#he’s for sure got perfect plant vision but i can play pretend

[sellieaa]

smth about small acts of service

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Hungry Eyes

masterlist

Summary: Spencer is tired of hiding your relationship. 

A/N: The idea for this fic came from a lovely anon that requested a fic based on She’s So Nice by Pink Guy. I also drew inspo from Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen (strange mix, but stay with me here.) So basically, a lot of Dom!Spencer goodness. I’d like to say a huge thank you for almost 1k followers, because wow. I never imagined 5 people would actually want to read my writing. I love you all, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future works!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, jealousy, degradation, spitting, slapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), spanking, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5.5k

           “That is one fine piece of ass. Don’t think I could get any work done with a sweet little thing like that prancing around my precinct,” mutters yet another sleezeball detective, beady eyes trained on you like a lion might study their prospective prey. It’s moments like these that Spencer has to remind himself that patience is a virtue – that he must bite his tongue because he’s at work and that means he has to act professional. Even if those around him don’t seem capable of affording him the same luxury.

           So, it’s with a clenched jaw and all the self-restraint that he can muster that Spencer forces himself to focus on the task at hand. Because Spencer is a professional, and there are more pressing matters that demand his undivided attention. The detective could be dealt with later – in the form of a complaint to the higher ups. But for now, patience.

           Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. Years on the job had taught Spencer to remain level headed no matter the circumstance. Usually, Spencer could tune out the locker room talk in favor of immersing himself into the case. But when it came to you, or rather, people who dared to look upon you with eyes laden with lustful intentions, Spencer had a rather short fuse.

           It happens often, and he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised. You’d certainly turned his head the first time he was fortunate enough to lay eyes on you. He’d nearly broken his neck trying to steal another glimpse of you as you walked past him on your way to Emily’s office on your first day. No one would ever describe Spencer Reid as forward, but on that day, he was the most brazen he’d ever been.

           Throwing caution to the wind, Spencer made a split-second decision stop you and introduce himself.

           It was the best decision he would ever make.

           So, yes – he understood why the head of everyone you passed turned your way, eager to bask in your unparalleled beauty. But that didn’t mean that he had to like it. In fact, every time Spencer caught some imprudent bastard leering at you, he had to remind himself that enacting physical force on another person with no real reason could cost him his job. That, and he was above resorting to violence – or at least he was, until you came around.  

           Part of his anger was rooted in the obvious lack of respect. It didn’t matter if Spencer held your hand in his as the two of you walked down the street, or if he kissed you on the lips in the middle of a crowded restaurant. All the PDA in the world did nothing to assuage the lingering stares, and Spencer felt his sanity chip away with every passing day.

           In the beginning, keeping his relationship with you a secret from your colleagues seemed like a good enough idea. Both of you were in agreement that you didn’t want to your personal relationship to affect your professional one, so when the elevator doors opened up and the two of you stepped out into the bullpen, you both were on your best behavior. And it was okay at first – Spencer was able to put his romantic feelings aside and focus on his work, all while still being able to make eyes at you from across the room. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Until it wasn’t.

           Because it wasn’t enough that you were gorgeous – you were also the most selfless person that Spencer had ever met. Always eager to lend a hand to anyone in need – always seeing the best in everyone, regardless of if they deserve it or not. It was an admirable quality to have, and he loved you for it, but on days like today he wishes you were a little more perceptive.

           That, and he wishes you’d chosen to wear anything but the tight little skirt and low-cut top that you were currently sporting. Not that he didn’t love the way the fabric clung to your figure like it was tailor-made for you – because he did - it was just that every other male in the precinct seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. And that made Spencer’s blood boil.

           The tipping point comes when, just as Spencer is trying to hunt you down and propose a quick lunch break, he finds you engaging in conversation with the very same detective that had been spouting lewd comments about you all morning. You’re seated at the breakroom table, clutching a fresh cup of coffee in hand as you look up at the man, a polite smile upturning your lips as you listen to him drone on about how his amateur baseball team had won some stupid fucking tournament the previous weekend. He’s smiling down at you, endlessly smug and way too pleased with himself at having captured your attention.

           It makes Spencer sick.

           His reprieve comes when your eyes flit to the doorway and you flash him a breathtaking smile. It makes him warm from the inside out, and Spencer wants nothing more than to plant kiss after kiss on your lips. Unfortunately, he can’t, so he settles on returning your smile.

           “There you are,” Spencer greets as he crosses the room before coming to a stop next to you. “I was thinking we could go grab lunch.”

           “Is it really lunch time already?” you murmur as you glance down at your watch. “I guess I let the day get away from me. Detective Yarborough was just telling me about the baseball game his team won this weekend.”

           “Oh, was he now,” Spencer feigns interest as he turns to face the man.

           “Yup,” you say, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable tension. “Didn’t you tell me you played in a baseball game once?”

           This piques the interest of Yarborough and he raises an eyebrow at Spencer.

           “You play?” he asks, tone laden with disbelief.

           “Not exactly.”

           The detective merely harrumphs in response, and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

           Your eyes dart between the two men and your brows furrow adorably as you try to make sense of the almost palpable animosity.

           “Okay… So, lunch. Did you have anything in mind, Spence?”

           “There’s a really good pizza joint two blocks from here,” Yarborough chimes in. “I could show you, if you like.”

           He acts as if the offer extends to you both, but the way he looks only at you when he says it tells Spencer otherwise.

           “The hospitality is appreciated, but that won’t be necessary,” Spencer breezes, clipped and to the point. He’s able to see in his peripheral vision the way your eyebrows raise in shock, but he’s too busy glaring at the detective to care.

           “Uh, yeah. Thanks anyways, Detective,” you mutter confusedly as you stand.

           “Anything for a pretty lady such as yourself,” he replies. “And you can call me Trevor.”

           Spencer’s hands are clenched into fists and he has to actually bite down on his tongue to keep from doing something he’d surely regret later. You bid Trevor ado with a smile and a parting wave, and then Spencer’s ushering you out of the room and down the hall, hand placed firmly on your back. He can’t do much in regards to initiating physical contact, but he allows himself this miniscule act of PDA. The feeling of your warmth radiating through your blouse is the only thing keeping him from giving into his primal instincts. Instincts that are screaming at him to put that smarmy bastard in his place.

--

           The hours after lunch pass by rather uneventfully. You accompany Tara when she goes to interview the victim’s family, and for the first-time all-day Spencer is able to repress his frustration long enough to focus on piecing together a geographical profile. By the time you and Tara return, the sun has long since disappeared from the sky and fatigue is rolling off everyone in waves. When Emily finally announces the end of the day, she’s met with absolutely no resistance.

           Spencer immediately scans the room for you, only to frown when he sees that you’re nowhere in sight. In fact, he hasn’t set eyes on you in well over an hour, too busy wrapping up the days’ work to notice your absence until now.

           “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Spencer calls out. His question is met by several shaking heads.

           “I think she’s busy,” JJ sing-songs, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Spencer’s frown only deepens.

           “Busy?”

           JJ nods.

           “Yarborough has been chomping at the bit to ask her to dinner. My guess is he’s got her cornered somewhere.”

           Of fucking course.

           Spencer’s out of his seat and stomping through the precinct in second, oblivious to the way his coworkers exchange curious glances as he storms off.

           He finds the two of you in much the same way as before, only this time Trevor is blocking your path to the doorway, hand in the air as he moves to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

           “– C’mon, babe. Say you’ll go to dinner with me,” Trevor croons in a way that’s supposed to come off as seductive. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

           You lean backwards in an attempt to evade his touch, and you barely get the chance to open your mouth when Spencer intervenes.

           “She’s not interested.”

           The detective whips around, snorting in annoyance when he sees Spencer standing in the doorway.

           “What are you, her fucking keeper?” Trevor sneers, before turning back to face you. “Who does this guy think he is?”

           Something in Spencer snaps, then – the same something that has been swelling inside him for months, threatening to spill over every time he had to pretend that the stares didn’t enrage him. He’s tired of pretending, tired of hiding, and so, so fucking tired of not putting assholes like Trevor Yarborough in their place.

           Fueled by months of suppressed anger, Spencer manages to cross the room in about two seconds. He has several inches on the detective, standing at an intimidating six-foot one inch in height, so when he comes to a stop right in front of the detective, he’s looming over him threateningly.

           “I’m her fucking boyfriend, and if you so much as try to touch her again, I’ll break your goddamn hand,” Spencer spits out, and he’d be lying if he said the way Trevor’s eyes widen in fear doesn’t thrill him. “Are we clear?”

           “Uh, yeah. Sorry, dude,” Trevor splutters, raising his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she was taken. My bad.”

           Spencer tears his eyes away from the detective and takes in the way you’re watching on with an amused expression. He reaches out, and you’re quick to place your hand in his. Without speaking another word to the detective, Spencer leads you from the room and out the back entrance of the precinct.

           “What was that?” you tease, eyes glistening mischievously underneath the street lights. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t taking things public just yet?”

           Spencer crowds you against the brick wall of the building, pressing his body flush against yours. He ducks down swiftly, pulling you into a frenzied kiss. His lips drag against yours relentlessly, and all it takes is one breathy moan before he’s licking into your mouth possessively. Spencer slots his knee in between your legs, simultaneously groping at your chest with one hand as the other tangles in your hair.

           When Spencer pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck as you writhe against him, hands clinging tightly to his dress shirt. You whimper when his teeth nip at the tender spot right under your ear, and you can’t help the way your hips cant up when Spencer’s tongue brushes against reddened skin.

           “I’m tired of pretending,” Spencer murmurs as his mouth continues to move against you, sucking purple bruises against your flesh. “Don’t fucking care about how it will affect the job. Tomorrow, everyone’s gonna know that you’re mine. Gonna mark every inch of you tonight – gonna fuck you until you can’t fucking walk.”

           “Please,” you slur as you guide Spencer’s hand down until his fingers graze the end of your skirt. Spencer chuckles darkly against your neck when his hand brushes against the soiled lace of your panties.

           “Didn’t mean I’d fuck you right here,” he laughs, prompting you to let out an impatient whine. The hand that was previously tangled in your hair slides down until it’s wrapped around your throat, and Spencer’s cock twitches eagerly in his pants when you push your throat harder into his palm. “Such a needy little slut for me. Ready and willing for me to fuck you out in the open, where anyone could walk by and see how fucking desperate you are for my cock.”

           “M’ your slut,” you pant as Spencer’s middle and index fingers ghost across your center. “Only yours, Spence. I don’t care who sees, just - please fuck me!”

           “I fucking own you,” Spencer growls against your lips as he tightens his hold on your throat. “And as much as I’d love to take you right against this wall, the things I have planned for you would elicit quite an audience. I know how loud you like to be.”

           Spencer pushes your panties to the side and you let out a low hiss as he drags a finger across where want him most. You cry out in frustration when he removes his hand to bring it up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick his finger clean.

           “Just needed a little taste to tide me over,” Spencer murmurs, smirking devilishly at you as he steps back from you. “Let’s head back to the hotel. I’ve got lots I wanna do to you, pretty girl.”

--

           As soon as the door to the hotel room clicks shut, clothes are flying off as the two of you make your way to the bed. It’s a mad dash as you both undress, and as soon as the last garment leaves your body, Spencer pounces on you. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, and the way you immediately go pliant as Spencer’s mouth works against yours makes him hum appreciatively.

           “Don’t feel like being nice tonight. Are you gonna let me use that pretty little pussy however I want?” Spencer inquires, though he already knows the answer. He’s known how tonight would pan out ever since the first roll of your hips against his back at the police station.

           You nod fervently, hopelessly, and Spencer moves his hand up to grip your chin in his hand. The pad of his thumb traces over the swollen skin of your kiss bruised lips.

           “What about this?” he asks, tapping lightly against your lip. “Are you gonna let me fuck this slutty little mouth of yours?” Spencer slips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately close your lips around the digit, suckling lightly. Your eyes never leave his.

           “You’d do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you, pet?” Spencer muses, pressing his thumb farther into your mouth until you gag around him. Spencer withdraws his thumb and his hand tugs hard on the hair at the back of your scalp. “Open.”

           You oblige immediately, and Spencer spits into your waiting mouth. You swallow without being instructed, and the visual of it makes Spencer let out a low groan.

           “Get on your knees,” Spencer barks out, and the way you scramble to follow his order makes him let out a chuckle. “So eager to have my cock in your mouth,” he hums as he taps his dick teasingly against your cheek. You open your mouth wide for him, and Spencer guides your mouth down onto his dick at a tantalizingly slow pace. You let out a moan as you hollow your cheeks around his head, tongue lapping greedily at the precum that gathered there before Spencer makes you take him deeper.

           “Everyone thinks you’re such an innocent little thing, but here you are, letting me use you like a cheap whore while you enjoy every minute of it,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as you moan wantonly around his cock. It isn’t until he’s halfway down your throat that your eyes begin to water, mascara running down your cheeks as he fucks into your mouth.

           Spencer lets out a choked sound when your nose brushes against the skin of his abdomen, and he has to fight the urge to throw his head back in pleasure. He doesn’t want to look away, not even for a moment. Not when you’re looking up at him like that, tears running down your face as you swallow around his length.

           He pulls you off him just the tiniest bit before he��s forcing you back down, a string of curses falling from his lips as your head bobs up and down.

           “You take my cock so well, pretty girl,” Spencer praises, prompting you to let out a muffled moan around him. The vibrations send a shock of pleasure through him and he can help the way his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby. You like it when I tell you what a perfect little whore you are, don’t you?”

           You’re unable to answer, because Spencer presses down on the back of your head until you’ve taken all of him again. The pressure he puts on you doesn’t relent, not even when you gag around him.

           “Fucking choke on it, slut,” Spencer grunts. “Don’t act like you don’t want this. You were just begging me to fuck you in an alley not twenty minutes ago, like some pathetic fucking tramp. You wanna act like a tramp, I’m gonna treat you like one.”

           Spencer’s lips curl into a debauched grin when your hands come up and grip the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer and further down your throat.

           “That’s what I fucking thought,” Spencer moans, giving several more harsh thrusts before pulling you off of him completely. Spencer reaches down to wipe at the spit that coats your lips as you look up at him with a shy smile.

           “You okay, pretty girl?” Spencer asks as he caresses the side of your face.

           “Mm,” you hum, nuzzling your face against his palm. “Keep going, please. Don’t hold back.”

           “God, I fucking love you,” Spencer sighs happily. “Get on the bed.”

           By the time Spencer fishes a tie out of his suitcase, you’re sprawled out across the bed, head resting against the pillows with your legs spread wide. Your teeth are nestled against your bottom lip as you watch him stalk towards you, eyes running up and down his naked figure appreciatively.

           Spencer crawls onto the bed until he’s settled in between your legs. You present your wrists to him, just like you’ve done a million times before, and Spencer feels that familiar thrum of excitement rush through his body. He fucking lives for moments like these – moments where all his problems melt away to nothing. Moments where he has no other thought than wrecking you, thoroughly and completely.

           Once your wrists are bound you hold them above you, and Spencer sits back on his heels, eyes raking up and down every inch of you.

           “M’ so fucking lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like this.”

           Spencer pinches your right nipple in between his fingers and you let out a squeak, hips bucking up, desperate for some friction. He kneads your breast in his hand as he lowers his mouth to the other one, tongue laving around you. A light nip from his teeth is all that it takes for you to cry out, eyelids fluttering closed.

           “Spence, please. Need you to touch me now, pl-”

           Spencer’s hand connecting with your cheek stops you from finishing your sentence.

           “Do not tell me what to do,” Spencer seethes, once again gripping your chin to keep you from looking away. “Ungrateful slut. I should just leave you here, fucking dripping and desperate for a release that you won’t get. Maybe then you’d learn to take what’s given to you.”

           “Please, no! I’ll be good, I swear. I’m sorry!”

           Spencer narrows his eyes at you, contemplative.

           “Open.”

           You do as he says, and without another word Spencer inserts two fingers into your mouth, pressing down hard on your tongue.

           “Get them nice and wet, and maybe I’ll think about using them on you.”

           You do as he tells you, and by the time Spencer removes his fingers from your mouth, you’re trembling underneath him from anticipation.

           “D-Did I do good?” you stutter out, batting your lashes at him as you squirm under his gaze.

           “So good, baby. I think you’ve earned my fingers,” Spencer hums. “Need you to be still, okay? You’re not gonna like what happens if you try to move.”

           You nod enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers brush across your clit. Spencer spends ample time rubbing deliciously slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in every gasp and whimper that falls from your lips. Lips that he’d very much like to kiss, so he does, and you’re more than happy to reciprocate. Spencer lets out a happy sigh into your mouth.

           You get lost in the kiss, so lost in the way that Spencer licks into your mouth that it catches you completely off guard when he slides two fingers into you.

           “Oh, God,” you moan when Spencer curls his fingers against your walls, fucking them in and out of you, slow and unrelenting.

           “S’that feel good, princess?” Spencer asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tell me how it feels.”

           Your head falls back against the pillows as you struggle to keep your hips firmly placed on the mattress.

           “Feels amazing, Spence. Always feels so good with you. Never want anyone else, only you.”

           And fuck, if that sentiment doesn’t shoot straight to his heart - amongst other places. Spencer places a tender kiss to your cheek before he’s moving down to your neck and sucking a bruise right under your jaw.

           “Yeah?” Spencer prompts. “Not even that stupid fucking detective? I’m sure he’d love a chance to see you like this.”

           “So, you were jealous,” you chuckle between moans, and Spencer bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder.

           “F-Fuck, Spencer!”

           “Should I be jealous?” Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers, scissoring them at such an unforgiving pace that you can’t help but roll your hips against them.

           You regret this instantly, because Spencer’s fingers immediately pull out of you, leaving you empty and cold. Spencer tuts, shaking his head disappointedly.

           “Dumb little whore can’t even sit still long enough to cum on my fingers.”

           “Please, let me try again. I’ll do better, I promise!”

           Spencer shakes his head and scoots up until his back is rested against the pillows.

           “C’mere,” he commands. “Lay across my lap. Or can you not follow simple commands?”

           “I-I can,” you whisper as you crawl across him, splaying out so that you rest on your elbows with your ass in the air.

           Spencer grabs a handful of your ass and kneads it in his hands.

           “How many do you think you deserve?”

           You blush and smile shyly at him from over your shoulder.

           “However many you want to give me. I can take it.”

           Spencer returns your smile.

           “Good answer. I think you can handle fifteen. How does that sound?”

           “Sounds perfect. T-Thank you, Spencer,” you mumble, cheeks burning red. Spencer continues to caress the tender skin of your bare ass, admiring the way the skin is completely blank; the perfect canvas.

           You let out a whimper when his hand comes down hard on your ass before kneading the sensitive, reddening skin.

           “T-Thank you,” you gasp out, and Spencer is quick to follow up with another strike against the opposite cheek.

           It goes on like this until it’s time for the fifteenth strike, and by then you’ve devolved into garbled whines, ass bright red and marked up with the imprint of Spencer’s hands. His dick is painfully hard underneath you, and you’re in a similar state – arousal dripping onto Spencer’s thigh, coating it.

           “Last one, baby. Do you think you can handle it?”

          “Y-Yes,” you choke out. “Please, I need it. Hurt me, please.”

           The desperation in your voice does things to him, makes him practically feral with the need to fucking tear you apart, and Spencer is quick to deliver the final blow. You barely even have it in you to cry out anymore – a feeble sob is all that falls from your lips.

          Spencer’s hand ghosts down across your bruised skin until his fingertips trace over where you drip for him.

          “You like it when I punish you, don’t you, dirty girl?” Spencer hums as his fingers glide over your soaked folds. 

          “Y-Yes,” you mewl, shifting so that your cunt grinds back onto his hand. Spencer indulges you - allows you to rock your hips against his palm as he watches on in awe, soaking up every desperate sound that tumbles past your lips. 

          Spencer pulls his hand away after a moment and you keen in protest.

           “Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?” Spencer asks, and you nod, because of course you do – you’d do anything if you thought it’d please him. You struggle to pull yourself up with shaky limbs, and Spencer puts a hand on your lower back to steady you. “Can you straddle my leg? Yeah, just like that.” Spencer pulls you down and places a slow kiss to your lips, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears gliding down your face. After a moment of slow, sweet kisses are shared, Spencer unties your wrists.

           “I want you to ride my thigh – can you do that, princess?”

           You whimper as you lower yourself down onto his leg, eyes fluttering shut as you begin to rock against the hardened muscle of his leg.

           Spencer continues placing kisses on your lips, your face, your neck – worshipping every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth, all while whispering praises against you.

           “So perfect for me. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs as he grips your hips with steady hands, urging you to increase the speed of your hips. “Can’t wait to have that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock. Always so tight, yet you take it so well every time.”

           “S-Spence, m’ close,” you slur, hands clinging desperately to his shoulders.

           “Already? You usually last a bit longer than that, baby.”

           “P-Please, Spencer, I can’t-” you whimper, tears once again pricking at the corners of your eyes at the thought of having to wait a second longer.

           “Shh, baby. It’s okay, you can cum,” Spencer reassures you, and your shoulders visibly untense. “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

           It takes two more rolls of your hips for you to cum on Spencer’s thigh with a cry of his name. Spencer rubs soothing circles into your hips as you ride out your high, murmuring broken thank yous as you come down.

           Finally, you still, and your eyes open, pupils so dilated that your eyes look almost black in the dim light of the hotel room.

          “You okay, princess?”

           You give a weak nod.

           “M’great,” you smile, sounding as fucked out as he’s ever heard you. You lean down and slot your mouth against his, and the kiss is slow and languid – soft and unhurried.

            Spencer is the first to pull away.

           “Need you to get on all fours for me,” he instructs. “Don’t think you need to put any pressure on that pretty little ass of yours right now.”

           You giggle at that, before crawling off of Spencer’s lap. You assume the position, and Spencer places a pillow underneath your hips before trailing a line of kisses down your spine. By the time he reaches your ass, you’re writing against him, wiggling your hips eagerly. Spencer places a kiss to both of your bruised cheeks before pulling away.

           You let out a startled oh! when Spencer licks up your center, parting you with his fingers before fucking in and out of you with his tongue.

           “S-Spence, oh my God, yes!” you cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he continues to work his mouth against your core.

           “Love your fucking pussy so much,” Spencer sighs against you, lapping at your clit hungrily. “Could fucking lick you out for hours. You taste so perfect, Y/N.”

            Spencer lets out a filthy groan against you, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge, wrecked moans filling the otherwise silent hotel room. This orgasm hits you both quicker and harder than the first, and he can’t help but smile against you as you rock back against his face, desperate to prolong the sensation. Spencer continues to work you through your orgasm, stopping only when you cease to twitch underneath him.

           “Such a good girl for me. Think you can handle one more?”

            You raise up just enough that you can look at him from over your shoulder.

           “Yes, please,” you beg, voice scratchy and raw. “Please, fuck me.”

           “Yes, ma’am,” Spencer chuckles. “Do you think you can lay on your back? I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.”

           You answer by rolling over, wincing slightly when your ass comes in contact with the sheets. You look up at Spencer with wide, doe eyes. You have mascara smeared all down your cheeks and your lips are swollen, and to top it all off, deep, purple love bites are dusted across the entire expanse of your neck and chest. Spencer had set out to mark you as his – so that no one would be able to deny that you belonged to him – and he’d done a spectacular job, if he said so himself.

           “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

           “Then come fuck me already,” you challenge, looking sated in every possible way – yet still, your eyes hold the same hunger that he’s sure is reflected in his own eyes.

           Spencer leans down and traps your lips in a bruising kiss, and without warning he thrusts in you to the hilt. You cry out into the kiss, startled by the sudden intrusion, but Spencer sets a brutal pace that leaves you no time to recover.

           “You said you wanted me to fuck you,” he growls against your lips. “Now fucking take it.”

           He’s fucking into you so hard that you can’t even manage a reply – you just tighten your legs around his waist and drag your nails across the expanse of his back, no doubt leaving bright red marks in your wake. Spencer can feel his own release fast approaching – honestly, he’s been close ever since the first drag of his tongue against your pussy. And now that he’s finally enveloped into your tight, wet heat, that all too familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach is threatening to consume him.

           Spencer’s hand descends from its place next to your head down to your clit, and your whole body jolts with the first swipe of his thumb. You clench around him as a litany of particularly filthy utterances escapes you, and Spencer’s hips stutter.

           “Fuck, princess,” he groans, head coming to rest on your shoulder as he struggles to regain his rhythm. “You don’t even know what you do to me. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Never fucking want to lose you. Love you so much.”

           “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you chant into his ear, sounding like some kind of siren, luring him straight to his inevitable ruination. “I’m so close, Spence. Cum with me, please? I want to feel you. Please, baby.”

           “Y-Yeah, fuck,” Spencer chokes out. “Say my name when you cum, princess. Want everyone to know how good I fuck you.”

           And when you cum with a shout of his name, walls pulsating deliciously around his cock, Spencer is quick to join you. He continues to roll his hips against yours as you both ride it out, whispers of almost intelligible affirmations being shared between slow, loving kisses.

           After a moment of post-orgasm bliss, Spencer leaves and returns with a bottle of cocoa butter lotion and a warm, wet rag. You watch on with heavy lidded eyes as he cleans you up, and for a moment, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. It’s not until he finishes slathering your reddened backside with lotion that you speak again.

           “You shouldn’t be jealous, by the way,” you murmur as he lays down beside you. “You’re it for me, Spencer Reid. I don’t ever want you to doubt that I’m anything less than crazy about you.”

           It’s everything that Spencer’s ever wanted to hear, and just like that, every fear – every insecurity that had plagued him in the past several months – fell away to nothing. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been worried in the first place.

           “You’re it for me, too,” Spencer whispers as he pulls you until his arms and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

           “We’re going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, you know,” you remark as you nuzzle into Spencer’s side.

           “Don’t care,” he sighs happily. “I’ll shout it from the roof tops if I have to. I want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

           “You’re a sap, Doctor Reid.”

           “Only for you.”

           A moment of blissful silence passes, before the sound of your growling stomach sets you both into a fit of giggles.

           “We never did get dinner, did we?” Spencer muses as he lightly runs his fingernails across your scalp. You hum appreciatively and a pleased shiver rolls through you.

           “Nope. You were a little too preoccupied with marking your territory to even offer to feed me,” you tease as you run your fingertips down the planes of his chest.

           “Well, now that that’s been taken care of - could I interest you in some takeout?”

          “Possibly,” you sigh, flattening your palm on his chest, right over his heart. “Do you think that pizza place Trevor mentioned delivers?”

          “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

          “Is that a no?”

          “... Look up the number.”

-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin​ @moon-light-jukebox​ @thebookamongmen​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @eldahae​

[husbandohunter]

Stardew Impact [Genshin+Stardew Valley/xReader]

Part 1/3 Kaeya, Diluc

Synopsis:��“A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE YIP YIP)

Coming soon...

Albedo and Childe

Zhongli and Xiao

(A/N): So the brainrot was real in this one. I planned to add Albedo for a Mondstadt edition but kinda went overboard so I gotta split this one into parts too. Wordcount_almost 2k spspspsp

______________________________________________________

Diluc

• Already has the whole year planned in his head. Literally if Diluc were to play this game, he'd have a booming farm within year ONE. Calm and collected through and through, though the new environment raises alot of questions, as long as you were still with him, Diluc ain't complaining

• The town welcomes you two with open arms. It was all thanks to the attire. Diluc wore his usual dark coat adorned with regal gold while you had a dress made of Liyue's finest silk, one that he bought for you. Needless to stay both of you reeked the aura of rich aristocrats (Mayor Lewis is pleased that greedy bastard)

• Once the farm was permitted to your owndership, Diluc began to think of ways to turn it into a vineyard. He was a businessman afterall. Although the staff back at the Dawn Winery were the ones who tended the field, Diluc still knew a few things about planting due to his childhood days Master Crepus would bring him out to their yard and demonstrated the process of gardening. He still remembers those days clearly, doing the very same this moment with you.

• Occasionally works at the Saloon bar. It was the perfect opportunity. As you took care of the farm side, Diluc continues to look for more ways to increase the income while gathering information from the folks around town. Gus LOVES to have him over, like he's just so efficient and reliable! They soon become good friends saying if Diluc were ever to own a wine stock, he would gladly buy from him.

• This is why Diluc would stay a little later due to just chatting with the people from the bar. One time you walked into the Saloon only to the front desk with Emily alone. Turns out the others were in the other room, too busy playing a game of pool. You decided to leave him be since it was rare to have Diluc so relaxed in leisure activities. Thus in the end, you spent your time chatting with Emily until a whole hour has passed before your lover notices and apologizes for losing track of time.

• Everything felt like a dream because it was his dream. To live a life undisturbed from chaos, his duties and the dangers that lurk in Teyvat, Diluc grew fond of the domesticity. There was nothing he loved more than to spend his hours by your side, day after day, returning home to your freshly handmade meals.

• Spring: Already up and early planting the parnersnips (I'm very soft for gardener Diluc you see). What do you expect from a workaholic? Even during his leisure time you would often find him near some plant as he does consider this hobby quite therapeutic. But when it rains, Diluc would be standing beside you with an arm around your shoulder, smiling contently as you lean into his touch. He gazes through the dripping window and silently admires the current progress you both made on the farm.

• Between the two annual spring festivities, I would say the flower dance. Diluc is a private man and would prefer to take things where no eyes were on sight. But with a little bit of nudging from Gus (your wingman), he gives in and leads you to the center stage. Elegant. Graceful. The way you two moved together became the talk of the event. Though, Diluc was already used to people staring by now, all he needed to do was to ignore them and keep his focus on you.

• Summer: No blankets in bed. Nope, its bloody hot in Pelican Town. He tends to stay indoors or anywhere with shade, in other words, his work hours in the Saloon increased.

• Diluc always has a nice cold drink prepared for you if by any chance you were to pay a visit after a whole day of labour. It's a habit he's made subconciously as if it would be a natural occurance for you to enter the door. His colleagues would ask him who did he make that drink for? Honestly so cute i cri

• Moments like these remind him of Mondstadt, where he quietly wipes the glasses while listening to you talk. Your voice is soothing. Sun rays peek from the side casting onto the umber tables, reflecting a rich golden light as the radio plays a soft song in the background. It's so peaceful, the town was small hence not many people visited the bar, Diluc came to appreciate this warm privacy (plus no Venti and Kaeya which is a huge pog realization).

• Autumn: Harvest time baby. The kegs are full and the sheds are full of kegs. This season was huge stonks and the house ended up getting an upgrade. Diluc is the type of man who wants to make sure that his spouse wouldn't have to work another day of her life. I reckon this is why he's so ambitious because he wants you to have the best and you deserve the best. (Husband material. Slap a ring on him ladies).

When there was no more work left to do, time would be spend peacefully exploring the woods. While you skipped a few steps ahead as the leaves crunched beneath your feets, Diluc follows slowly from behind. He sees your back but his eyes stares somewhere far beyond whats in front of him: His future. 

It was such a stark contrast to the one he envisioned before. One filled with uncertaintly, blocked by darkness with no silver lining in sight, endlessly wandering as he drags the claymore against the ground. There was never a day in which the Darknight hero wouldn't think of Mondstadt. Leaving the city in the incompetent hands of Ordo Favonious while Abyss Mages continue to lurk fuels him to find a way to return as soon as possible and yet...

"Higher big sis!" Jas tightens her hold on the ropes as you pushed the swing with all your might. She laughs, like a child, it was full of innocence and joy. Later Vincent came in and nugdes you, asking when his turn will come.

"You wanna go too? Alright alright don't worry," waiting for Jas to come down, you lift the boy up so that he was seated safely on the chair, "3..2..1 go!"

He wonders if he could just be a little selfish for once.

• Winter: Best man to have in this season. Every morning Diluc would find himself restricted in movements due to a pair of arms around his waist and legs entangled with yours. Turns out you've been doing it subconciously because he's just so warm (Diluc keeps it lowkey and pretends to sleep longer cuz of it)

~~xx~~

Kaeya

• Haha looks like the portal is gone, guess we'll be stuck forever :)). No kidding Kaeya would be so down to stay here for the rest of his life and the best part is to spend it with you. He doesn't show a shred of concern regarding Teyvat, not like he's easily shaken by events that are abnormal, but you can see that Kaeya is truly and genuinely happy. (You're stunned).

• Oho we also have this marvelous landscape just for the two of us? And a cozy little cabin to go along with it as well? This should be fun~ 

• Of course Kaeya would also know a few things about planting, just the basics since he did grow up with Diluc. When they were kids, Crepus would give each of them their own pots so they can grow their own plants. It eventually became a competitive thing where whoever's plant grows the fastest gets to eat the other person's dessert for a year (no one wins. They end up sabotaging each other which Diluc started first, thinking it'll be funny as a joke).

• You are, and will be going on dates with him. In fact, the amount of dates you two went on increased since then. The townspeople would call you two "lovebirds" since he's practically by your side 24/7. 

• I mean he doesn't have the responsibilities as a Cavalry Captain anymore so what else is there to do?

• Would attend all annual events no matter what season. 

• Evelyn constantly gushes how much of a wonderful pair you and Kaeya make and often is the one who provides Kaeya a fresh bouqet of flowers for him to use as a gift. George on the otherhand just rolled his eyes mumbling something along the lines of "youngsters these days" and "crazy hormones."

• Befriends Pam. Love for beer plus somewhat cynical attitude? They get along real swell! She starts sending some recipes into the mailbox of course saying if yall ever need a hand, let her know.

• Spring: I can see Kaeya be switching back and forth between caring for the farm or taking quests posted on Pierre's bulletin board. He likes to keep things interesting, learning the ways of the new world while also getting to know the people around town.

• Would NOT return Mayor Lewis' shorts in which he found in Marnie's room. It's such high quality blackmail material. Kaeya is currently plotting what is the best way to use it to his advantage.

• He didn't tell you of course.

• Summer: There are no blankets because he is your blanket. Since your cabin was small so was the bed. That's why he has to hold you so that no one falls off when rolling over. Either he hugs you with your nose close to his neck, or your back against his chest while spooning you or holding hands if sleeping on your sides became too much. Yall need a serious house upgrade.

• For some reason Kaeya becomes more energetic in the summer. He lets you rest in the shade while handling the farm work for the time being. If you guys got a pet it would be a cat. Hes the first one to refill their bowl every morning outside.

Another day passes as summer comes to an end, the town’s Mayor invited you and your lover to see the annual Dance Of the Moonlight Jellies. Kaeya being the opportunist was delighted to come along. Locking the door of your house, you follow him down the path and made your way to the beach.

Everyone from town was already gathered by the docks when the sun had disappeared down the horizon. You stood by his side in a space far from the others, watching  the candle boats set off to ride the waves, lighting up a small ray of light for creatures to find. 

“Wow,” your tone almost above a whisper, “If only our friends back home could see this too.”

“Perhaps,” he says. Kaeya slips his fingers into yours and you shot him a curious glance, “But let us enjoy this moment shall we? Just the two of us.”

And there they were. A sea of luminescence radiating colours of brilliant blue with hints of green like a city of laterns floating in a world below. Their image reflects in the star of Kaeya's eyes as he wonders, where would they go? Where would the light lead them? They were so free with nothing to worry, so serene just like the sea and unknowningly, he squeezes your hand. It was a sense for confirmation. One to remind him that this moment was indeed a reality he wishes to keep.

Autumn: Finally a house upgrade and a kitchen!! Because it was harvest season, you guys end up making a set of delicious meals with all the recipes the townspeople gave you. Kaeya can cook since he lived by himself back in Mondstadt. Most of the stuff he learned to make were food that can be accompanied by alcohol though...

• Ahah remember Mayor Lewis' lucky shorts? He found a use for them. It was displayed on the stands during the Stardew Valley Fair (Oh my how did this get here? Must be the wind). Ends up buying a Rarecrow for the farm when Lewis bribes him not to tell this to anyone.

Winter: This was mostly an indoor season for the both of you. With the existence of television, nights would be spent until morning while watching movies at the couch. A blanket drapes around your shoulders as extends to his.  Oh and don't forget the hot chocolate! 

[mandoalorian]

The Secret Of The Wish [Max Lord x F!Reader] SEX POLLEN

Summary: You’re a new intern for the Wall Street Journal, sent out to interview Maxwell Lord, a businessman who has suddenly found financial success in the oil drilling industry. When you ask him what does he owe his success to, he gives you a surprisingly honest answer: through the power of the wish. You make the mistake of humouring him, and playing along with his little story until he proves to you just how powerful wishing can be.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (sex pollen in the form of wish granting therefore there is automatic dub-con) unprotected p in v, male oral, handjob, tit play, butt play, spanking, cockwarming, creampie, degradation, praise kink, office sex, power-shift, dom/sub dynamic, implied age difference, mutual pining.

Word count: 4400>

Masterlist

REBLOGS appreciated! 🤍

Black Gold Cooperative was booming with business. Even the outside of the building was swamped with hundreds of people who were desperate to get inside and speak to Mr Lord himself. Luckily, you were a journalist for the esteemed Wall Street Journal and your position in the company had earned yourself an interview with the successful CEO. The entire world had thousands upon thousands of questions for Maxwell Lord, and you were the lucky intern who got to meet with him on this humid Wednesday afternoon.

A tall blonde woman who you assumed was his secretary, led you to his office. All his employees seemed to be young, attractive and wore only the best designer clothes. It was almost intimidating. You couldn’t mess this up. You were conducting an interview with one of the most successful people alive - this could actually be your big break in the industry. Taking a deep breath, you made an attempt to swallow away your nerves before making your way into his own private office.

It was extensive in size, with large plants and statues in every corner and on every surface. Honestly, you found his taste in furnishings to be quite tacky. You knew it was just his way of bragging about how wealthy he was without actually saying anything. He was neck deep in paperwork and he hadn’t even noticed you were just standing there, in his office. Your eyes flicked across his messy desk, taking in the sight of multiple opened bottles of vitamins, colourful smoothies and other supplements. You made a mental note, not exactly pinning the salesman as a health freak. You’d been standing there for longer than you’d anticipated and he still hadn’t looked up, so you cleared your throat and prepared to grab his attention.

“Mr Lord… I’m here on behalf of Wall Street Journal, we’re doing a segment on Company Sudden Search....” you began to introduce yourself but a roll of his eyes and a flimsy yet disapproving gesture of his hand cut you off.

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he grumbled, taking a swing of his green juice before fastening the cap back on the bottle and pulling a face of disgust. If he thought it tasted so bad, why was he drinking it? Maxwell took a minute trying to compose himself for the interview. He’d waited his whole life to be interviewed by the Wall Street Journal and no matter how bad his migraine was… he couldn’t mess this up.

In fact… there was something about the way Maxwell Lord looked in this moment. His bottle blonde hair was sticking up in random places, probably due to the beads of sweat that laced his forehead. His tie was pulled open and his suit jacket was crinkled, yet he still made the effort to keep it on for whatever reason. He didn’t look like the persuasive, bright eyed salesman on the television, that’s for sure. You supposed all those studio lights could make anyone look different, but that didn’t necessarily mean he looked bad. He didn’t look sick as such, just a little disheveled. He kept rubbing his temples as if he had a killer headache. You considered asking him if he was okay, but that wasn’t why you were here.

The prolonged silence made Max Lord look up at you from the many papers on his desk. He was frowning, and if one thing was clear, it looked like he was having a bad day. It looked like he could do with some major stress relief. The first two buttons of his pinstripe shirt were open, and his collar was wonky, and honestly? You had to fight the urge to stalk over to him and help him out. You imagined running your fingers through his golden hair, caressing his face and letting your hands wander down his chest. You imagined whispering dirty little things into his ear until he ached for you. There was something about teasing a higher-up that you just couldn’t resist. Nevertheless, you cursed yourself for the inappropriate thoughts. You were a young intern for one of the most successful journalism companies… and shit, he was the CEO of what had suddenly become the richest organization in the world. He was a powerful man, more powerful than you knew. It would be foolish to mess around with a man like Maxwell Lord.

Maxwell took a shaky exhale and done what he could do best. Fake a smile. Feign confidence. Pretend like he was okay... like he had it together. He promised himself that he would not lose control of his power— he couldn’t— but this moment was only the start of his descent into madness. He never knew how hungry he could get... how satisfying his power could be, until he met you.

“Come here sweetheart,” his frown curled upwards into a smirk and his eyes began to gleam again, just like they did on his famous infomercials. His voice became a little louder, and a little more confident as he stood up and padded around his desk, pulling out a chair for you to sit down on. You hesitated, his change in attitude wasn't lost on you, but still, you obliged, and shuffled into the golden plush chair. The material was so soft and you struggled to suppress a moan. “Everything okay?” he asked you, placing a large ring clad hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah I just… I’ve never sat on anything so comfortable.” you confessed, shuffling around. Maxwell’s eyes lit up with desire at your comment and his gaze fixated on your face.

“Really?” Never?” he chuckled lightly, brushing his thumb against his lower lip as he took in your appearance. Just the shape of your perfect body was enough to initiate something primal in him. The tightness of your blouse and the vision of your short pencil skirt that cut off mid-thigh already had his cock straining against his tailored suit pants. “I can think of at least one more comfortable thing in this office for you to sit on.”

You’d be lying if you said you were unfazed by his little flirtation. If any other middle aged man had said something so crude to you, you’d have snapped back with something witty to put them in their place. But Maxwell Lord wasn’t any man and his charm alone had cast you under a spell. Your knees were weak and you felt like putty under his touch. Even when he removed his hand from your shoulder, you felt completely and utterly submissive to him. 

You cleared your throat and opened up your notepad. “I’m just here to ask you a few questions…” you told the businessman, biting your lip nervously. Maxwell nodded and sat on the edge of his desk, waiting patiently for you to get started. “So uhm, Forbes is reveling in the fact you’re self made… but not much is known about your past. We don’t know about your family or where you come from… is there anything relevant you’d like to share with the world?” you asked curiously.

And for the first time, Maxwell Lord broke his gaze with you and looked down at the carpeted floor. “There’s not much to say, really.” he said, but there was something in his tone of voice that indicated he wasn’t willing to provide any further details. Hoping you hadn’t struck a sensitive cord with him, you glanced back down at your notepad to ask him another question.

“I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but not much is known about your personal life. A handsome, wealthy man like yourself can’t be single, right?” you asked, even startling yourself over how over bearing you’d begun to sound. Maxwell let out a chuckle and quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I’m single, yes. Tell me darling, is this Wall Street Journal or US Weekly?” he joked, and you felt a flush of heat radiate your cheeks. You knew better.

“I’m sorry. It was an unprofessional question,” you quickly backtracked. “Do you uhm… do you have a pen… I could borrow?” You asked awkwardly, feeling a little irked over how flustered his simple presence had made you. You'd been so nervous to actually meet with Max Lord, you'd even forgotten to bring something to write with. You were so embarassed. But Maxwell was hardly paying attention to your lack of organization, and instead he just smiled and grabbed a gold encrusted company pen from his desk. “Thank you.” you said timidly. “Can I ask you something?”

“That’s why you’re here… isn’t it?” he retorted playfully. 

“The interview is about Company Sudden Search and for some reason there are no questions about your company… just you,” you frowned apologetically. You hadn't come up with the questions, one of your executives had. You were just there to look pretty and milk as much information out of him as you could. “I guess the world is curious about you, Mr Lord. More curious about your private life than this empire that you have created. But Black Gold Cooperative had been off the grid for many years only prior to this week and now suddenly you’re the wealthiest company in the world. You’re the richest man in the US. And data shows absolute no correlation towards that. Your purchased oil wells were dry until one day they just weren’t. It wasn’t gradual, but Mr Lord, we are living during the Cold War and oil is as scarce enough as it is. How… how did this happen? You must know something.”

As you rambled on, Maxwell stared dead into you. You hadn’t been asked to say this, this was coming from your own interest. You had done your own digging about this (just like any successful journalist would), snooping into Maxwell’s business and finding out exactly which oil fields he owned and how much oil was in them in the first place. This wasn’t coming from the Wall Street Journal. This was coming from you. Maxwell never expected to be confronted with such a question. You were practically trapping him, but the way you could swindle the truth out of him was an attractive quality of yours. Not many people could get the truth out of Max Lord.

Maxwell chuckled lightly. He could tell you. It wouldn't make much of a difference. Besides, you’d be foolish to believe the truth. You’d think he’d gone insane. Had he gone insane? These damn migraines… he was drunk on power… his mind had become corrupt with the idea of fortune and success. And he needed this interview to go well.

Maxwell grinned, as charming as ever, and took both of your hands. “I made a wish.” he told you, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You paused, unsure what to make of his comment. Was he making a joke? It didn’t sound like he was joking. In fact he sounded more serious than ever. “Like… upon a star?” you asked, giggling only slightly in attempt to make a judgement of whether or not he was just messing with you. Maxwell smirked and nodded his head. He’d expected that you wouldn’t believe him.

“On my journey to self fulfilment I locked into a secret, the secret of the wish. So I wished for it. Or, someone wished for it for me…” Maxwell explained, talking in tongue twisters. His fingers brushed over your knuckles. As you listened to him, he noticed the way your eyebrows knotted together in bewilderment. He was definitely serious about the wishing thing. But if he wasn’t going to be honest with you, then maybe this interview was more trouble than it was worth. Just as you were about to break away your contact with his hands, he continued. “Tell me what you wish for you and I will show you how it works.”

That was quite the proposal coming from him.

You blinked. “Uhm…” He stared at you, waiting for you to come up with some kind of answer. You supposed that you could always just humour him. “So you’re like a genie?”

“I’m Max Lord, sweetheart, and I can make your darkest fantasies come true as long as you just say the word.” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

The sexual tension between you both was undeniable, and it had been since you had entered his office. His already chocolate brown eyes had darkened considerably with lust. You pursed your lips together into a fine line and you tried your very best to ignore the fact that your lace panties were damp with arousal. You knew he was powerful. Strong… sexy. You’d been in his office for barely five minutes and he already had a hold on you.

“I suppose I’d want success in my career. It’s hard… being taken seriously, as a woman in journalism. It would be nice to just feel respected amongst my peers.” you confessed.

“The people at Wall Street don’t respect you?” Maxwell asked, and you swore that for a split second he sounded genuinely concerned.

“Uhm… I feel like I’m not really at liberty to discuss that. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place.” you scrunched up your nose.

“Because you deserve respect, miss Y/L/N.” Maxwell promised you, his hand sinking down to caress your thigh. You gasped under his touch and looked up at the ceiling. “Is this alright… me touching you like this?” he cooed, tracing circles over your pantyhose.

“Mm.” you mumbled in agreement, your eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dipped under the hem of your skirt.

“So if you could wish for one thing… one thing at this very moment in time, it would be for success in your career? Is that true?” Maxwell quizzed, eyeing you up with curiosity.

No.

It wasn’t true.

In fact your career— this interview— was the last thing on your mind.

Fuck.

Silently, you shook your head. “So darling, tell me, what would you wish for?”

You sighed in defeat, remembering that you’d just humour him. It wasn’t exactly professional but he wasn’t helping you out either. Just go along with it, you told yourself. You finally looked back down at him and saw that his lips were moist from where he’d hungrily licked at them, his eyes fixated on your breasts and the way he could just about see the lace print underneath the thin material.

“I’d wish for you…” you shakily exhaled. And that caught his attention. His gaze flicked up to meet yours and he waited for you to continue. “I’d wish for you to let me use you to get what I want. You’re rich… powerful… wealthy…” A gust of air distracted you and a breeze blew through your hair. The windows weren’t open, the fan wasn’t on, and Maxwell looked completely and utterly spent over your revelation. It had just came out of nowhere. There was a few beats of silence and Max looked you up and down.

“What do you want?” he croaked meekly. He removed his hand from your thigh and his whole demeanor changed in a split second.

When you noticed how stiff his manhood was, and the way his precum had already leaked out onto the grey material of his pants, it stirred something up inside of you. He wanted this too, that much was clear.

And now, the roles had reversed. You were no longer the shy intern interviewing the big name CEO, you were a sexy journalist who’s nipples had hardened significantly and you had this fresh yet welcoming air of power to you. There were two people in this office and yet suddenly, you were the one in control.

Maxwell’s perfect, plush lips had parted and his dark eyes followed you as you stood up from your seat. He looked down at the wet patch from where you were sitting and gulped, imagining just how great it would feel to slide his fingers through your folds and feel your arousal himself.

All for him.

“I think you know.” you replied softly, sitting him down in the golden chair that you had once made yourself comfortable in. You pulled off his crumpled suit jacket and discarded his tie, throwing it haphazardly onto his already messy desk, and then sunk down to your knees, spreading his legs apart.

You began to palm at his erection through his pants, involuntarily licking your lips as your fingers danced around his growing bulge. “Ngh- fucking tease.” he groaned, his eyes snapping shut the second he felt you begin to work at removing his belt. You pulled down his zipper and reached into his pants, pulling his cock free. He wasn’t enormous, but definitely above average, and thicker than you’d ever taken before.

“You just need someone to make you feel nice, don’t you?” you cooed gently before licking a stripe up the base of his cock. “All this stress from work… huh? From making people’s wishes come true.”

“You… you have no idea.” Maxwell grunted, his cock twitching in your hands as you pressed a sweet little kiss to his head. His slit was still leaking with precum and you were desperate to get a taste of the CEO. You gave him a small kitten lick, relishing the saltiness of his seed. He was delicious.

This shouldn’t have been happening. Sure, Maxwell was hard before you’d even made the wish, but holy crap, he didn’t expect for this to actually happen. And neither did you. You assumed he was lying, just like he lied about everything else in his life. Afterall, who was going to believe a man who told you his success was owed to wish granting? 

“Mr Lord… you’re so big.” you sighed longingly before making an attempt to attach your lips around his cock. He looked down at you and let his hands grip the back of your head as you sucked on his sensitive tip. 

Who would've guessed that a good blowjob was exactly what Max Lord needed to feel better about himself?

Max felt like he was in heaven. He was already seeing stars. He’d been granting peoples wishes left, right and centre. He wasn’t necessarily touch starved but it had been a good few weeks since he’d gone without sex; his only motivation being to find and harness the power of the dreamstone. But you were giving him the best head he’d ever had in his life. It was like everything was pent up inside of him. His balls were tight and he was achingly hard and in a moment of pure lust, he thrusted his hips deep into your mouth. The sudden movement had you gagging and a trail of saliva mixed with his precum dripped down your lips. You pulled off him, gasping for air but quickly wrapped your lips back around him and taking his length even further than before. If he filled your mouth this good, you wondered how he’d feel filling your pussy.

“Not gonna last… fuck!” Maxwell cried, his cum shamelessly spurting into your mouth. His load was massive and he doubled out of you, the remnants of his seed spilling against your lips and down your chin. His heart was beating rapidly against his chest as he took in the appearance of you, down on your knees, in between his legs, with his milky white cum all over your pretty face.

Despite his orgasm, Maxwell was still hard. He still craved more. More of a release from you. It must’ve been your wish that created this desperation that dwelled inside of him.

“More,” he pleaded, his eyes round and doe-like. “Please, I need more.”

“Say less.” you whispered, unbuttoning your blouse and pulling down your skirt and pantyhose so you were simply just standing there in your white lingerie set. You looked so pure and innocent, and yet you were in absolute full control of this situation. You were the one dominating him.

“You said you wish to use me, so use me.” Maxwell begged as he extended his arms and made grabby fists, desperate for you to come over and help him out. 

He was right. This was your wish. You could play along with this for as long as you wanted. You removed your panties, unclipped your bra and discarded the garments, letting your breasts fall free. Maxwell’s jaw dropped at the sight of you and you stalked over to him. You straddled him and sat on his lap.

With one hand, you wrapped your fingers around his cock again and began to slowly jerk it, beginning a handjob which was more than pleasant for him. With your free hand, you grabbed onto his shoulder and steadied yourself, before stretching your body and pressing one of your breasts into his mouth. His lips latched around your tit immediately and he began to suck on your nipple as you continued to rub his cock. You moaned with pleasure, tossing your head back as his tongue worked at the hard little bud.

You subconsciously found yourself riding his thigh, dragging your dripping wet cunt along his expensive pants and making an absolute mess of them. He experimentally flexed the muscles in his thigh a few times, trying to gauge a reaction out of you and see how you liked it. His teeth grazed your breast and he let himself get a little too excited, peppering love bites all over your chest.

“Yes, that’s it,” Maxwell groaned. “Take what you need sweet girl.” he praised.

You whimpered when he flexed his thigh again and you felt yourself begin to reach your climax. You clenched around nothing and his cock was throbbing in your hand. You knew he needed more too.

You let go of him and he pulled his mouth off your tit with a ‘pop’. You cupped his face with both your hands and adjusted yourself slightly, this time so the tip of his cock was pressed against your entrance. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for his stretch before sinking down onto his length, settling balls deep. “Fuck… Fuck fuck fuck,” you chanted, your eyes squeezing tight shut as he filled you.

“Move.” he gasped, biting down on your shoulder. You whimpered and tugged on his golden hair, sending him into an absolute frenzy.

“Fuck, Mr Lord… oh god please, you’re so fucking big.” you cried, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes. He wanted you to move, sure, but this was your wish, and you were more than happy to just sit on and warm his cock for a few minutes.

Your walls were tight and perfect around him, just like he’d imagined. You brought your finger down to your cunt and began to rub at your clit as his cock stretched you out. Your moans of gratification echoed throughout the extensively sized office and you felt your juices drip down his cock.

“So good,” he whispered. “Move, please.”

“Mmm,” you couldn’t even fumble out words, and your vision was nothing less than a haze.

He rubbed the pad of his finger against your puckered asshole before sliding it in. Your body tensed up at the intrusion but God did it feel good. “Fucking move.” he growled, biting down on your earlobe as he began to thrust his index finger in and out of you.

Maxwell brought a hand down to cup your ass and he gave you a rough spanking. “Move.” He repeated, this time his tone a lot more demanding and less polite than the first time.

And just like that— he was in control again.

You obliged, not wanting to irk him any more, and began to bounce on his cock. “Greedy bitch,” he grunted, spanking you again. “Fuck… thinking you can use my dick for your own pleasure, huh? Everything comes with a price.” he hissed as you rolled your hips over his manhood.

“Oh Mr Lord.” you sighed with every movement, as his cock pressed against that sweet spot inside of you.

“You just couldn’t resist it, could you?” Maxwell asked rhetorically, a villainous smirk crossing his lips. “One great wish and you wish to ride my fucking cock," He had a point. People had come to him wishing for Porsche's, political power,— and you, with your whole chest, had wished to be the one who could pleasure him. Help him let go. “Shit baby, you take me so well.”

Despite his growls of degradation you knew he wasn’t going to last long, if the way his cock throbbed inside of you was anything to go by. You didn’t mind though. He could disrespect you all he wanted. You were more than happy to be Maxwell Lord’s little cumslut. His little whore.

“G-gonna cum, oh fuck, please.” you screamed, pressing your fingernails into his back as you rode out your high.

“Yes,” he moaned wantonly. “Soak my cock.” And with those three words, you came undone, sat on top of the richest and most successful CEO in the world. “Are you safe?” he asked, his hips bucking up into your sensitive core.

“I am.” you confirmed, and without even asking for permission, he spilt his seed inside of you, ruthlessly painting your walls with his cum.

He kept his cock inside of you until it softened and slipped out, and you mumbled something incoherent at the loss of his fullness. Maxwell watched your chest as you heaved, making every attempt you could to catch your breath. He pressed a sweet kiss into your collar bone, and then up your neck and along your jaw. You relished the feeling of his lips against skin; post coital bliss fostering your every thought.

“You’re a good girl,” he whispered, rubbing the curve of his nose against your neck. “I grant you your wish, and in return, I give you the utmost success in your career.” he sighed, and for the very first time Maxwell Lord said something completely and utterly selfless. It was through no gain to him whatsoever. You didn’t deserve to be looked down upon by your peers and employers, he knew that much. And if he had the chance to change that, he sure as hell would. 

“You will achieve things no journalist has achieved before, you will be rich, and be the first to seize every opportunity.” he said in between kisses.

To you, he was just whispering sweet nothings into your ear, humouring your larger-than-life dreams and ambitions. But if there was one thing that Maxwell Lord admired in a woman, it was her aspiration and goals. If you were brave enough to waltz into his office as let him cum all over you, you definitely deserve this. At that moment, you had no idea that Maxwell Lord would change your life forever...

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor

[bloopme911]

Random WandaVision Thoughts

Thoughts about WandaVision I cannot get out of my head, so here you go.

SPOILERS AHEAD. BLOOP. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED. 

1. Wanda and Vision are connected by the stone. 

I went back and watched AOU and pretty much from the moment Vision is on screen, the connection between him and Wanda is obvious. Her reaction to him in particular struck me. She exhaled like she was drawn to him--to the stone. She also said she saw inside his mind before he was brought to life. 

I believe they’re meant to be together, not only b/c of their chemistry together and compassion for one another, but also b/c of that mind stone. It gave him life and awakened her latent powers. It drew them to one another the moment they met. Vision himself even said in Civil War that he didn’t fully understand the stone, or how it works exactly; it’s a mystery to him. That stone is POWERFUL. It “speaks” to Vision, it “has a mind of it’s own”, it’s not a passive player, IMO. 

...more after the kr...

2. Wanda can channel the powers of ALL of the stones in her chaos magic.

This I can’t claim credit for, but I believe it. I saw a theory on ScreenCrush (great YT channel for dummies like me to break things down) that Wanda can not only bend reality to her will, she can channel pretty much all the powers of the five stones. She demonstrates this in many ways -- bringing the butterflies and stork to life, rewinding the turkey until it turned into eggs, planting visions into Avengers heads, controlling the minds of the Sokovian citizens so they would evacuate the city in AOU, etc, etc, etc. 

ScreenCrush theorizes that the stones are all connected, having sprung from the same fabric of the universe, their powers work alone but also together. Inside Wanda. If she concentrates, if she wills it, she can be just as powerful as Thanos was with that Infinity Gauntlet. So yeah, I believe she can trap a whole town under a spell and give Dr. Strange a run for his money across the multiverse, point blank periodt. 

And if she can do that, could she not remake Vision? Pull his atoms back together, reform him, especially if she (somehow) got ahold of the copy Shuri made of his neural network? Why wouldn’t she bring Pietro back to life? I’m not sure...perhaps it could be that it’s simply too painful. Or perhaps she just doesn’t want to put her brother under a spell in a dream world. Vision is Vision, he can handle this, and she may not feel as bad resetting him when he gets too suspicious she might if she had to do that to her brother. I don’t know...time will tell, hopefully.

3. Wanda was an Avenger, training under Black Widow. She got rid of her accent intentionally. 

I see people referencing her “suddenly disappearing” accent a lot. I think she (the character) did this on purpose. In the opening of Civil War, when her accent was first starting to fade, she was being taught to spy by Black Widow and Sam and the gang. It stands to reason that accents and speaking with what TV folks used to call a “non regional diction” or any accent she pleases would be part of that training. 

Since this WandaVision is based on a sitcom reality, if you know how painstakingly they recreated these sitcom eras, plot tropes and all, then you’ll find that not only is Vision’s behavior based on the popular ‘TV Dads’ of each era (Dick Van Dyke, Mike Brady, Ricky Ricardo, etc) but Wanda was also mimicking the way TV wives speak and act during each era. Perfect 50s diction for Ep 1, slightly more relaxed like a Mary Tyler Moore in Ep 2, a bit more broad and (with a lot more physical comedy in her face, she’s so adorable) for the 70s.....the MCU didn’t forget about Wanda’s accent and Elizabeth Olsen isn’t being lazy.

Wanda deliberately got rid of her accent while she was a spy, and she slipped into it when she was thinking of her brother, her home, her childhood lullaby. 

4. “Geraldine” a.k.a. Monica was casing Wanda’s house. 

I noticed that from the moment Monica set foot inside, she covered a lot of ground. She found little ways to check that house out because she’s a trained agent and I think even though she was NAILING the part of the stereotypical 70′s black “foxy” nosy neighbor, she was 100% on a mission that whole time. She went in to get Wanda out, but the pregnancy obviously derailed that. I think she was waiting for an opportunity to gage when she could jog Wanda’s memory and probably also waiting to make sure Wanda would be at home alone before she stopped by. 

She has “no home” in the town, Agnes said, but she is a SWORD trained agent, so she knew how to survive until she could make her move. Unfortunately, Wanda was not having it. She does not want to be saved. “Geraldine”/Monica also said during her crazy work story that she keeps her cool under pressure, which she did during that BONKERS delivery. She even gave Wanda the coaching she needed to get through it despite the house going all Poltergeist around her. 

I only wish that when Wanda was questioning her, she would have been like “I’m Monica Rambeau, I’m here to rescue you.”

5. The townspeople have known all along about both Wanda and Vision’s powers, but they’re only terrified of Wanda. 

Vision used his powers in front of people from day one. Helping Mr. Hart at dinner (notice how IMMEDIATELY after Vision saved him, they left in a hurry? They were terrified. They went there to act out a dinner, not for Mrs. Hart to watch her husband almost die without being able to break character to save him, and Mrs. Hart knew it was Wanda who could make it stop). Speed computing at the office. Obviously the magic show kinda sort doesn’t count but does b/c come on mirrors don’t work like that. Getting the doctor, etc. No, I think the townspeople know Wanda and Vision are Avengers, but there is nothing they can do about it because they are under a spell and they must carry out the FOR THE CHILDREN evil plot. I’ll bet word spread about Wanda choking Mr. Hard, so they def don’t want to piss off Wanda, nor bring the wrath of the nefarious entity controlling them all (most signs point to Mephisto). 

6. Agnes’ witch costume reminds me that there are some tropes in media where evil witches are the wives of the devil (or sell their souls/enter a pact). 

Obviously the Mephisto Comic story line sets this up, but I just love the way they executed it in the show, using the spouse that never appears on screen as a big fat clue.

Agnes may not be evil but she def wants Wanda to have children for her devil husband and she def does not want “Geraldine” disrupting that. Everyone else just seems straight up afraid of Wanda but Agnes knows who is really pulling the strings here. Agnes is terrified of the Big Bad, whereas the townsfolk fear Wanda b/c they know what she’s capable of. They may even believe Wanda is the one controlling them all--and she is--but Agnes knows who’s manipulating Wanda--Ralph, or Mephisto to us.

7. I get the strange impression that the sitcom credits start because Wanda is waking up for the day, and end because for her the day is over... 

...and she’s done concentrating so hard on the sitcom spell. It’s sleep time for REAL-real. If she’s using magic to keep this stage play going constantly, then it stands to reason she will tire even though she’s pretending to live in sitcom world where time works totally differently. I believe the commercials are her dreams, sending her subconscious messages about her past traumas. I also believe dreams could be the way Mephisto called out to her--subconsciously drawing her to Westview.

Fun fact: TV way back in the day used to turn off at a certain time at night. 11pm or midnight, I can’t remember, but the networks STOPPED BROADCASTING at a certain time and there was no such things as 24-hour TV until like the late 80s. 

There are waaaaaaaay more thoughts banging around in my head but this post is pretty long so until the next time I’m wide awake at 4am with the 70′s WandaVision theme song stuck in my head...

[eleanore-delphinium]

The Gift: Chapter 2 (Childhood Arc)

Chapter One

Chapter Two: (you are here)

Jean & Diluc

Diluc and Jean became acquainted with one another at the age of ten and eight respectively. Diluc was a rather bright and happy child growing up and Jean was quiet and reserved. It came to a surprise to a lot of people how the pair got along so well.

In fact, Diluc could be considered rather rambunctious and reckless and Jean was cautious and critical. And because of that, the others who didn’t question how they got along, understood why they did. They were what they considered opposites attract, Yin and Yang.

“Diluc! Wait up for me!” A ten-year old Jean complained as she climbed up a rock with difficulty. She looked up from climbing and a hand was outstretched in front of her. It came from a boy with red hair and red eyes—Diluc Ragnvindr, heir to the Dawn Winery. Her silver eyes glittered under the sun with a hint of blue as she felt blinded and surprised by the presence of the boy in front of her as the sun right behind him.

She took his hand and he pulled her up. The wind blew her blonde hair around.

“Look, I told you that there were knights fighting some hilichurls!” The twelve-year-old Diluc said proudly. He had dragged Jean out so that they could look at some knights in action.

“I’m going to be one of them, Jean. And I will defend Mondstadt with everything I got!” His claymore faded behind him in gold dust, in her eyes it made him look like he was shining as he said those words. Her grey-blue eyes silently look at the claymore floating behind his back as it reappeared in gold dust again.

“You have been training hard.” She couldn’t help but remark, as it was after all the truth. He had been training very hard at swordsmanship at the age of eight, despite it being a skill he didn’t necessarily need. And when he got his vision at the age of ten, it was like the world was fully his, at least that was what he told Jean. But it was different for her, she had trained her posture and strikes with wooden swords since she was five and slowly changed into different kinds of swords as she grew and improved. Recently she had started using an actual sharp metal sword fitted for her. In her case, learning swordsmanship was a necessity. 

Jean is known to be the more responsible one between the two, it was a fact that Diluc had set his heart out to being a Knight of Favonius. And Jean wasn’t quite sure about her future, but it was already decided for her, as a Gunnhildr it is natural to be a Knight of Favonius.

She had just recently decided to take up the sword and try to follow her mother’s desires with a passion that should compete with Diluc, but she didn’t even know what her objective was after mastering the short sword. If it was something she even wanted to do.

“Don’t worry Jean, you’re going to be a great swordsman. I know it.” Diluc said, feeling that Jean was slightly upset. She looked at him with pressed lips, he has always known what he wanted to become.

“Says the heir to the Dawn Winery.” She mumbled, and he bumped onto her shoulder playfully.

“That is my Father’s legacy. Of course, I will keep that alive, but I also need to chase my own dreams.” He replied smoothly, she felt as though it must have been something he had known for a long time. 

She was envious of that certainty.

Diluc pulled her to hide behind a small bump on the ground. She quietly observed the Knights of Favonius by Diluc’s side and she was rather impressed with their fighting skills. She could only hope to be at that level soon. Jean looked at Diluc and she knew that the boy beside her would surpass the knights fighting right now.

“We should probably go.” Jean urged gently and Diluc looked at her with a slightly stern gaze.

“We just got here, Jean.” He responded quietly.

“But—” Jean said but was cut off.

“Don’t worry, if anything happens, I can protect you!” Diluc said confidently and in all honesty, Jean knew he could, he was rather capable for a twelve-year-old, but her innate nature wouldn’t allow it or perhaps it was her training.

“Diluc—” She tried again.

“They are over here!” A man called out pointing to the kids, and Diluc automatically grabbed Jean’s hand and ran away from the man.

“I can’t believe they found us.” Diluc said as he ran holding her hand firmly, Jean who was forced to follow him wanted to pull her hand away.

“Diluc, I think we should go back.” Jean tried to urge Diluc again.

“No, we just got out! Aren’t you tired of always studying?” He grabbed her and hid behind a tree as he silently observed if they were followed, and they saw no one behind them.

“C’mon, I think we can go to the Winery.” Diluc took a step forward but Jean remained planted on where she stood.

“That’s pretty far, Diluc.” Jean mumbled faintly.

“We’ve gone there many times before.” Diluc replied, keeping an eye for any movement around them.

“With permission.” She quietly added. “This time I ran away from training, you do realize that I will have to make-up for what happened today, some other day.”

“You’re just ten—they are overworking you.” He said sternly and she avoided his red eyes. Diluc was virtually perfect, he could be very good at something new and master it just as easily. And since he has a fiery passion for his claymore and combat, it was natural that he would more than just excel at it. He was at a level no one should be at—at the age of twelve, especially since he started late in training compared to her.

But the same thing could be said about Jean, she knew more than what a ten-year-old should know. But that was a result of the kind of upbringing she had. The sheer effort that she had to always display and give to please her mother, as the next heir of the Gunnhildr clan. And yet, she knew very clearly how Diluc had tried his very best to offer her a glimpse of a normal childhood.

Jean in a sense, aspired to be him in so many ways.

She was very much inspired by his capability. And his passion for justice. And his freedom.

“Alright.” She agreed quietly, even though in her head she disagreed completely. She will have to pay the price of what they are doing today, she knew it well. But looking at Diluc’s clear eyes, she couldn’t help but sigh in hushed tranquility. Diluc was always admirable.

And they carefully made their way to the Dawn Winery while Diluc kept an eye out for anyone following them. They arrived unfollowed, but they realized someone was at his villa’s front yard, Diluc’s father—Crepus was arguing with a blonde-haired woman, the same shade as Jean’s hair. Jean recognized the back of the woman before the woman’s voice could even register in Jean’s head.

Crepus' eyes glanced behind the woman, who had seen his eyes shift and turned around to see Jean and Diluc. The moment she finished her turn, Diluc automatically stood in front of Jean with a glare directed at the older woman.

“Diluc, you have been causing trouble.” Crepus said with crossed arms, but his eyes held the smallest hint of delight at his son’s antics.

“They are overworking Jean!” Diluc argued back with a stronger glare directed at the older woman.

“That is none of your business, kid.” The woman replied.

“She is just a kid; she should be playing around!” Diluc yelled and received a cold glare from the woman. It was cold enough to make him flinch.

“She is not just a kid; she will be the future leader of the Gunnhildr clan.” She said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Frederica,” Crepus called out to the woman in front of him and she tilted her head a bit to the right acknowledging him. “She should still be able to play around like a normal child.” There was a silence that passed by them.

“Jean, what do you think?” Her cold blue eyes landed on the girl behind Diluc who remained quiet in the presence of her mother.

“I do not dare to question my mother's upbringing. I am raised to be well equipped as the future leader of our clan.” Hearing Jean’s reply, Diluc could not help but clench his fists.

It is true that when Diluc was ten he had received his vision, and worked hard to do justice to it. He chose to not play around with children his age because he wanted to master his craft and join the Knights of Favonius even more now that he had a vision. But that was not the case for Jean and he was so aware of his privilege.

“Jean.” Diluc turned to look at her but her expression was steely as she stared back at him.

“When I went out with you today, I knew this would happen. It is inevitable. I thank you for the company Diluc, but sadly I will have to go now.” Jean gently touched Diluc’s shoulder whose face showed his guilt. “Do not feel bad, I wanted to join you.” She gave a faint smile. It was the truth that she wanted to go with him when he arrived under her windowsill earlier that day, even though she knew that there would be consequences that would follow.

“Mother, I apologize for my actions.” Jean stepped out from behind Diluc and approached her mother. “I will take responsibility for my actions.”

“Good, as it should be as the future head of the family.” Frederica said the cold stare from her blue eyes made Jean think her mother’s gaze was certainly made of ice.

“Jean, I—” Jean turned to look at Diluc and the sadness in her face made him pause.

“Till next time then.” Jean feigned a smile and did not wait for a reply from Diluc as she turned to look at her mother. “I am ready, mother.”

“Crepus.” Frederica said with a pointed look towards Crepus and a raised brow. “I would advise you to correct your son’s behavior, but I doubt you would.”

Crepus did not take Frederica’s words as offensive, instead he smiled and nodded to her pretending to take it into consideration. Frederica knew that he was just nodding out of politeness.

Jean followed behind her mother as the two went their way. Diluc’s gaze followed Jean until she was out of his sight and he thought that she looked so forlorn. But she never glanced back at him before she completely disappeared from his sight.

“I hope you had fun.” Crepus couldn’t help but say and Diluc finally turned his head to look at his father who appeared sad.

“I did… but-“ He looked back at the general direction of where he had last seen the mother and daughter pair. “Will she be in big trouble?” He added quietly.

“Frederica wouldn’t give her daughter a hard time, I’m sure of it.” Crepus replied but Diluc looked at his father with pressed lips. He knew his father was lying to comfort him, but Diluc nodded and slowly walked into the mansion with unhurried steps.

“Brother!” A blue haired boy called out to Diluc from atop the staircase, Diluc smiled when his eyes met the other boy’s periwinkle eyes.

“Kaeya.” Diluc said and his distress from what happened outside was completely forgotten after seeing his brother. He quickly walked up the stairs and Kaeya’s eyes widened with delight.

“Father, I will accept any punishment you decide to give me due to my actions!” Diluc said as he ran to his younger brother halfway through the stairs.

Kaeya was a year younger than Diluc and he was adopted over a year ago due to certain circumstances.  Kaeya used to be such a cold child, but with great effort, Diluc and Kaeya became close and Kaeya came to look up to his older brother Diluc with much love and respect.

When Diluc reached the top of the stairs Kaeya pulled his brother towards the library door. Diluc chuckled as he watched this playful child attempt to drag him away. He wasn’t always like this, it brought Diluc happiness seeing how joyful and playful Kaeya has become.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you two were up to!” Crepus replied as he watched his two sons with much love in his eyes.

“Kaeya, you seem way too excited.” Crepus laughed looking at his two sons, even though he is pleased in knowing how cheerful the blue haired boy has become after what has happened to him. Although he has to admit that he was very surprised to see that Kaeya developed a great respect for Diluc.

“This is for us boys only!” Kaeya yelled back to his father as he pushed Diluc into the library and shut the door behind him with a bang.

Crepus did not think that the slamming of the door was disrespectful, he knew that Kaeya was merely too excited and Crepus laughed wondering what the two boys could possibly be talking about.

“So, did you see her?” Kaeya asked instantly as he held his brother’s shoulder and Diluc laughed at his reaction.

“Yes, I did.” Diluc replied and his younger brother looked at him as he waited for more to be said. The joy in Diluc’s face slowly faded as he sighed and turned around.

“Based on your reaction, something bad happened?” Kaeya said as he followed behind Diluc who sat on a chair with another sigh.

“Her mother came here to pick her up.” Diluc said in an exasperated tone.

“Ah, that was what that was.” Kaeya mumbled as a frown formed on his lips. “So, you weren’t able to show her?” Kaeya sounded quite upset.

“Why do you sound more upset than me?” Diluc playfully retorted as he crossed his arms over his stomach.

“I went through all that trouble to distract our father.” Kaeya glared at his brother as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You weren’t even able to show her what this was all for. Jean’s mother is too much!”

Diluc stared at his brother who was obviously fuming in anger and laughed.

“It is alright, there are still more chances to see her.” Diluc looked at Kaeya, whose anger was slowly dissipating.

“Have you done your training for today?” Diluc inquired and Kaeya shook his head.

“Then, get your sword and let’s go out and train.” Diluc then stood up. “I will go and inform father.”

“Alright.” Kaeya replied as Diluc walked out. “I will follow in a bit.” Kaeya took a peek from the window and noticed the pair of blondes climbing onto a carriage with the Gunnhildr crest.

But on that day Diluc was gravely mistaken, he had thought he would see Jean again, unfortunately it would take three months to be able to see each other again. He had attempted to see her, but the security and Frederica would not let him through. He did not expect that she would go this far because he had forced Jean to ditch her lessons for a few hours.

Diluc’s mood had soured when he realized in the third week that Jean’s mother would drag this out. She might even use this opportunity to cut off ties. He was quite angry.

“Diluc,” Kaeya got no response. “Brother?” Kaeya called out a little louder in worry as he saw his brother’s expression turn dark.

“Brother!” Kaeya shook Diluc and the latter stared at his brother and sighed.

“I’m sorry I’m making you worry.” Diluc said, resting a hand on Kaeya’s shoulder.

“The Winery hasn’t hosted a party in a while. Your birthday is coming up.” Kaeya said matter-of-factly and Diluc raised a brow at Kaeya, catching on to what he was implying. “And a festival in Monstadt will soon follow, I’m sure something could be arranged.” A warm smile appeared on the red boy’s face.

“Yes. You are right.” Diluc agreed, recalling a memory from two years ago.

“A Party.” Diluc said and Kaeya couldn’t help but be charmed by his brother’s smile. One day, he too would have such charisma.

CHAPTER THREE

[silver-renjun]

Cafe 7 Dream: Jisung

Word count: 3,354

Warnings: violence, stabbing 

Read the prologue before reading this!  

You were at the cafe and there was no work for you to do. The dreamies were handling everything on their own, so there was no use for you at the cafe. Bored, you just stared at the boys as they made orders. You wanted to help out, but you knew that disrupting them could mess up their whole flow and cost them a lot of money. Chenle reminded you of that many, many times before. 

The only one that didn’t seem busy was Jisung. He was lounging around, staring at the boys mindlessly, just like you. Jisung caught your eye. It wasn’t usual that you saw him behind the counter. He almost always stayed in the back room, “keeping inventory”. You were suspicious of him. There was no way the cafe had so much stuff that Jisung had to be in the back room all the time. You could tell by the way that Jisung stuttered that he was hiding something back there. Then again, Jisung always stuttered when he talked to you.

Jisung didn’t stay in your vision for long. After a few minutes, he slipped back into the back room. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. You knew that Jisung would be upset if you sneaked in, but you just had to know what was back there. You looked around at the other dreamies. They were all preoccupied, making it the perfect opportunity for you to sneak into the back. You took your chance and creeped into the room.

You were not prepared for what you saw. All of the walls were covered in rows of shelves, each lined with countless bottles. The bottles contained all sorts of liquids, some of which were neon colors. At the center of the room, there was a table set up with beakers and tubes. You were in awe of what looked like a lab behind the cafe. You were going to sneak back out, but Jisung head popped up from behind the table. 

“y/n! What are, uh, you doing here?” Jisung stuttered with a nervous smile. The boy had two bottles with pink liquid in his hands. He tried to hide them behind his back, but had already noticed them.

“Jisung? What is this place? What is all this stuff?” you asked, reaching out to grab a bottle.

“No!” Jisung shouted, causing you to flinch. “Don’t touch anything in here, okay?” He placed the bottles down on the table and held his forehead. “What am I going to do?” he muttered to himself.

“First, you’re going to explain to me what this all is.”

“Okay, so, uh, you know how people love coming to our cafe,” Jisung said while playing with his fingers. “It’s because of this stuff.”

“You’re drugging people?”

“No! No! That’s not it! It’s just that, uh, you’re really not going to believe me.”

“Try me,”  you replied, putting your hands on your hips.

“I’m a wizard, so I make potions. We put love potions in the cafe food so that people will love our cafe.” Jisung noticed your confused face. “If you don’t believe me you can try for yourself.”

You walked over to where Jisung was standing. He quickly grabbed another bottle from under the table and placed it on the table.

“Experience the potion yourself. When it’s effects wear off, I’ll tell you exactly what happened to you without you even telling me anything.” 

You grabbed the potion from the table and drank it. Before you could place the bottle back down, you were transported to another world. You were in a forest and it was snowing. There were 7 little boys running around, screaming in joy as they played a game of tag. Your heart warmed at the precious sight of the dreamies when they were young. You were about to take a step closer, but everything began to fade. You found yourself back in the room with Jisung. 

“You saw your childhood, right? The most precious memory that you’ve ever experienced.” Jisung said. You nodded, not having the heart to say that you saw otherwise.

“It’s an original potion that I made. It took months to develop perfectly,” Jisung said as he returned the bottle to it’s original place. 

Jisung worked on the potion for months, but it seemed like he only tested it on himself. The potion wasn’t the user’s most precious memory, it was Jisung’s. Even though you didn’t see the right image, you were convinced Jisung was telling the truth about magic.  

“What about the other guys?”

“So Mark and Jaemin, they’re normal people. Kind of like you, but more magically aware. Haechan, he hasn’t gained his powers yet. And then Jeno, he’s a water spirit.”

“Makes sense,” you replied. 

“And then Chenle, well, uh,” Jisung began to stutter again. “He’s like super rich and his family is like a super big deal, so he’s not really allowed to tell his powers. Not even to me,” he said, pretending to be disappointed.

“Of course he wouldn’t tell you! You’d blabber it all out!” you joked.

“I don’t blabber any secrets!” Jisung said, trying to defend himself. “And Renjun trusted me with his vision about you so ha!”

“Renjun had a vision about me?” you said raising your eyebrow.

“Shoot,” Jisung said, slapping his forehead. “I’ll just let him explain it.”

Jisung walked back into the front of the cafe and you followed behind him. Renjun was standing behind the counter with the other boys, trying to put up a poster on the wall.

“So Renjun, what’s this about a vision you had?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“Dude, I told you Jisung wouldn’t be able to keep a secret,” Jeno said, laughing. Renjun shook his head in disappointment before looking at you. 

“y/n, do you believe in magic?” Renjun asked.

“You can skip the explanation. I saw everything Jisung had in the back.”

“Okay, so I’m an oracle, so I can see into the future. And I saw your future, and it’s not looking too good. You’re probably going to get attacked,” Renjun said casually, as if it were nothing.  

“Before you get worried y/n, it’s really no big deal. Renjun’s never had an accurate vision before. It’s not like this one’s going to come true,” Chenle said.

“And he was on the floor of a frat house when it came to him, so I wouldn’t worry too much,” Mark added. Renjun slapped Mark on the arm for adding that detail.

“Oh wow, for a second I thought I was going to be special,” you said sarcastically, pretending to be disappointed.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’ll protect you,” Jisung said, joining in on your sarcasm. He threw his arm around your shoulder, rubbed your head, and said, “you’re all safe now y/n.”

The boys laughed and then went back to work. Jisung walked back into the back room, and you followed him, since you had nothing better to do. 

“Hey Jisung, why don’t you give me so potions lessons?” you said. You found a stool in the corner of the room and pulled it up to the table. “It would be good practice for you, too.”

“Who said I needed practice?” Jisung replied. You turned around and got up from the stool, ready to walk out the door. “Hey, wait! I’ll do it!”

You sat back down on the stool and watched Jisung. He started pulling out liquids and dried plants from under the table. There were far too many thing coming out from under the small table, but you figured that magical storage was very efficient.

 “The first lesson is an antidote potion,” Jisung said. He placed in front of you various dried plants, seeds, and a dark green liquid.

“Can’t we start with the love potion,” you complained.

“If you’re trying to seduce someone, you won’t be learning it here,” Jisung said with a smile. “And the antidote potion is the best place to start anyways. If you mess up any other potion, it could kill you. It’s always important to know how to make an antidote.” Jisung handed you a mortar and pestle.

“I have to grind this by hand?” you groaned.

“Unless you have magical abilities, you’d better get used to grinding everything in there. Any questions so far?”

“What is all this stuff?” you asked as you grinded all the dry ingredients.

“Actually, I’m not really sure. I kind of just know the stuff I need. I use my intuition.”

“Oh that’s just great,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“It’s not like it matters anyways. You’re doing a great job,” Jisung said with a smile. “Now it’s time to add the blue liquid. Don’t ask me what it is, I wasn’t paying attention when I learned it.”

You poured the blue liquid in and began to mix it. 

“So what else do you do Jisung? There’s more to being a wizard than just potions, right?”

“Well, potions are my specialty. I can make them back here when I’m alone. There’s nobody yelling at me or telling me to hurry up when I make potions, so it’s pretty therapeutic. I can do spells too, but those take a lot of patience to learn, especially if you try to do them mentally. Spells are so much more pressure.”

“Oh,” you said, looking down at what you had made. “I’m sorry I disturbed your private time.” 

“Nah, it’s no big deal. I like you y/n. I mean, uh, I like being around you.” Jisung quickly went under the desk to get a bottle for you potion, but he was really just trying to avoid eye contact with you. His face was burning up. After Jisung got up, he poured your potion into a bottle and sealed it. He grabbed a permanent marker and wrote on the bottle.

“y/n’s antidote potion,” Jisung said with a smile. “I’ll be sure to make good use out of this.”

“I think the cafe is closing up right now,” you told Jisung. The commotion you could hear between Renjun and Haechan was an obvious sign that it was time for you to leave. 

“Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow y/n,” Jisung replied, waving you off as you walked towards the door. “Or do you prefer apprentice?” 

“I’d go by any name if it meant I could spend time with you,” you said. You were shocked at your own words. You had no idea where that came from. You hurried out before Jisung could question you on your reply.

You spent all your shifts with Jisung. Every day, Jisung had a new set of herbs for you to grind and bottle. You were worried the Chenle might be upset that you weren’t working, but he just smiled and pushed you into the back with Jisung.

“So what are we learning today, Jisung?” you asked as you pulled up the stool.

“Love potions,” Jisung said with a smile.

“You’re finally teaching me how you drug the people in the cafe,” you said teasingly.

“I don’t drug people, y/n. It’s magic. There’s a difference,” Jisung explained. “And were just doing a basic love potion today. Nothing complicated like falling in love with a building.” 

You chucked at Jisung’s response.

“Hey, you have no idea how hard that was for me! You try making people love the cafe when the employees are moody magical beings!” Jisung complained as he grabbed the ingredients for the love potions. He placed an assortment of dried herbs and seeds on the table.

“So what’s the plan here?” you asked.

“You can just take whatever you like. Love potions are based on personal preference. There’s really no wrong answer,” Jisung said as he handed you the mortar and pestle. “Oh wait! I forgot the most important ingredient!”

You watched as Jisung pulled out a bottle with a red liquid inside.

“You can taste it, it’s nothing weird, I promise,” Jisung said as he handed the bottle over to you.

You dipped your finger inside and tasted the mysterious liquid.

“This is tomato juice!” you said with wide eyes. “Your secret ingredient is tomato juice?”

“It’s for the aesthetics. It gives the potion a nice color. And my secret ingredient isn’t tomato juice. I use hot sauce. Tomato juice is a beginner’s ingredient.”

“Hot sauce is not aesthetic Jisung,” you said with a laugh.

“It’s more aesthetic than blood.” Jisung noticed the confused look on your face. “It’s an old practice,” he explained.

You spent the rest of your shift putting together a love potion. Jisung had been right about how difficult it was. Selecting your own ingredients took careful deliberation. You wanted your first love potion to be perfect. After a while, you had put together your first love potion.

“Wow, that looks really good, y/n,” Jisung said with admiration. “Can I try it? You can try mine too.”

“What’s going to happen when we taste it?” you asked. 

“These are pretty weak potions anyways. We’re probably just going to see our crush. It’ll be a basic sensation. It’ll be something you already know.” 

“Let’s do it then,” you said. 

You and Jisung exchanged bottles and took a sip from the potions. You closed your eyes and waited for the potion to settle in. When you opened your eyes again, you were in the same place.

“Nothing happened, Jisung. Did we make them wrong or what?” you asked.

“No y/n. We made them perfectly,” Jisung replied. 

You watched as Jisung crinkled up his nose at what he had just said. You took a second to process what he meant. 

“So that means we, uh,” you started to say. You couldn’t verbalize the next part. 

“Yep,” Jisung said while looking down. Despite liking each other, you and Jisung were highly embarassed by the situation.

“So, um, uh,” you stuttered, trying to find something to say to Jisung.

“Do you want to date me?” Jisung babbled.  

“Yes.” You kept your hands busy with all the ingredients on the table. You still felt too awkward to make eye contact with Jisung. He felt the same way about you. 

“We should head out now,” Jisung said. You followed him out towards the front of the cafe.

The other boys immediately noticed that Jisung was blushing when you two walked out. Neither you nor Jisung were making eye contact with any of them.

“What’s up with you two? Did you two make out in the back or what?” Jaemin said with a smirk.

“No way, Jisung’s too much of a wimp to do that,” Mark replied.

“The probably kissed by accident or something,” Jeno said.

“How do you accidentally kiss someone?” Chenle asked.

“It’s a classic trick Chenle. y/n probably fell on Jisung and-” Renjun started.

“That’s not what happened!” Everyone was shocked by Jisung’s sudden confidence, even Jisung himself. “We’re, uh, dating each other now. That’s all,” Jisung said in a quiet voice.

The dreamies erupted in screams. Haechan started slapping Jisung on the back.

“Look at you, all grown up,” Haechan said with awe. “Be careful back there. The two of you alone in that dark room, it could get wild, Jisung.”

After dating for a while, the teasing subdued from the dreamies. There was always the occasional joke about your potions mixing, but it was expected from the boys. You and Jisung became much more comfortable with one another.

The day of the cafe event had finally rolled around. You didn’t pay much attention to it after Renjun had mentioned it to you, but apparently it was a very big deal to the dreamies. They would be in the presence of a lot more magic than they were used to, so they spending a lot of extra time at the cafe. You tagged along, hoping to help them in any way possible. It had been a long time since you actually contributed to the cafe and not just sit in the back with your boyfriend.

“Hey y/n, can you help me and Jisung in the back right now?” Haechan said.

You followed Haechan into the back room. He locked the door behind you, which was odd. Jisung never did that before. Before you could ask him why he did that, Haechan lunged towards you. He pinned you to the ground and you started to scream.

“Don’t scream y/n, or you’ll end up like your boyfriend over there,” Haechan said with a menacing grin. Haechan turned your head to the side so you could see Jisung. He was sitting in the corner tied up with rope. His mouth was covered with tape.

“What are you doing?” you cried.

“Good question, y/n. You’re just so smart, aren’t you?” Haechan said as he tied up your arms. “You skip lectures so you can go take little potion lessons from your boyfriend. How cute.”

“This is about the lectures? Oh my gosh Haechan, I promise I-” Haechan placed his hand over your mouth.

“Don’t make me tape that beautiful mouth up.” Haechan got to work on tying up your feet. “And it’s something much more different, dear. You see with this high magical energy in the air, I’m at an urge to awaken my powers.”

Haechan stood up and grabbed a knife from the table.

“And there happens to be one potion that’ll do the trick. Your precious boyfriend already started making it. Now I just need the final ingredient,” Haechan said as he leaned over you. “Your blood.”

Haechan pulled the blade through your arms. Blood started to leak out onto your shirt, but you had already passed out. Haechan collected the blood and placed it into the bottle with the other ingredients. He started to take a sip when the bottle shattered. Haechan was enraged. He turned around to see Jisung, who had broken free. 

“You think you can stop me?” Haechan screamed.

Haechan tried to take a step forward, but he had become paralyzed. Jisung was mumbling a spell to himself. Even though he was focusing all his energy on restraining Haechan, Jisung could only think of you. He hurried over to the shelves and grabbed the first healing potion he could find. He opened the bottle and poured the whole thing down your throat. 

“Jisung!” was the first thing you said when you woke up. Jisung was too busy mumbling spells to reply to you. You looked over at the bottle Jisung had given you. It was the first potion you had made. You picked up the bottle and at the same time, Jisung stopped mumbling and pulled you into a hug. You felt warm in his embrace, but you became worried.

“What about Haechan?” you asked as you pulled away from the hug.

“He’s in paralysis. His body is transforming right now, so he’s especially dangerous. I put a spell on him so he won’t hurt us right now.”

You had no words for how grateful you were. You pulled him into a hug again.

“y/n, I’m really sorry I couldn’t protect you. You got hurt because of me. I should have never even started making that-”

You put your finger over his lips. You didn’t want the moment to be ruined. There would be a lot of explaining and apologizing to be done, but at that moment you just wanted to be in the arms of your boyfriend. 

Select another route

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 6: in the emergency room

Character A and Character B meet in the ER on Christmas Eve,, Percabeth

Annabeth likes to think that Christmas Eve is meant to be spent with the people you love most. For the past few years, she’s spent it with just her and Percy, both of them cuddled close on the couch with movies playing in the background.

It’s meant to enjoy the lights around the city and drink hot chocolate as you watch the snow fall. When she was little, she never really got to do any of that with her family, but now she has Percy. The absolute love of her life.

He makes her feel loved and cherished, and she quickly builds Christmas memories to last her a lifetime. The day that Annabeth used to dread is now the one day she wishes more than anything that she could live in forever.

So it’s safe to say Annabeth is fascinated by the bright lights. She would spend eternity surrounded by the blue and green and red lights, wrapped in the love of her life’s arms, if she could.

Annabeth smiles as Piper plants a cookie into her hand. She has to admit that she’s a bit saddened that Percy had to work on Christmas Eve, but she also supposes that’s what comes with being a doctor. She would be fine, anyways. She still had her friends, and then all of actual Christmas Day with him.

That’s what she thought, anyways, until she took the first bite of that cookie and her throat started closing up.

All havoc breaks loose as people start screaming around her, and she wants to tell them to calm down, but her vision starts to spot because she can’t get enough air. She hears someone say something about anaphylaxis, and the next thing she knows, she’s inside an ambulance under those beautiful blue and red flashing lights.

She’s injected with a heavy dose of epinephrine, and she starts to feel marginally better, and by that, she means she can at least wheeze in a breath of air. Everything is kind of blurry, which is a shame. New York City is beautiful on the night of Christmas Eve. Thanks to the cookie, or at least she’s assuming that was the culprit, she’s instead stuck inside of an ambulance that is all too loud and making her feel nauseous.

The EMTs roll her into the ER, and she distantly thinks that these lights don’t even hold a flame to the ones outside. As she looks around, there are a lot more people than she would’ve expected to see on this night, and she suddenly understands why Percy had to come into work. He’s so selfless and perfect, putting others before himself, and there’s something really hot about him when he’s in patient mode. God, she loves her husband so much, and she’s only a little bit high right now, but she wants to just grab his face and kiss him and—

“Annabeth?”

She turns her head to the voice, and her eyes take a few moments to adjust before she notices Percy coming towards her, alarmed.

“What happened!?”

She tries to speak, but her throat really hurts right now. She thinks an EMT tells him instead before Percy waves him off and takes the gurney in his hands himself. She’s placed in a room off of the ER, and there are quite a few other people hooking her up to a machine and pricking her with needles. She doesn’t quite like the way that everything feels to be moving in slow motion, sound faded in her ears. She is only brought back to a screeching halt when Percy calls her name for what she’s sure isn’t the first time.

“Annabeth,” he says, looking her in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

She blinks. “I’m fine,” she says, but her voice sounds super strained to even her own ears. She begins to look around the room and notices, sadly, that there are no longer any colorful lights. Just obnoxious white led lights.

Percy pulls a stethoscope from his white coat pocket, his hand snaking underneath her shirt to reach her back. “Can you take a breath?”

She does as he says, her skin lining with goosebumps at the cold feel of the metal. He moves it around again, asks her to take another breath, checking her lungs, checking her heartbeat. He pulls away again, and she nearly whines. As he loops the stethoscope around his neck, his hands come to press to her cheeks, his thumb caressing the smooth skin.

“Poor baby,” he says, pouting.

Annabeth pulls her head away from his grasp, but he follows her. “Don’t baby me.”

“You went into anaphylactic shock,” he says. “Let me baby you."

Annabeth scowls, but Percy presses a sweet kiss to her forehead anyways. Her fingers find the top of his scrubs, curling around the fabric, and he just lets her. She knows that he does his best to not let people grab his clothes, so it’s cute that he lets her do it. It’s nice to know that he has a soft spot for her that he doesn’t exhibit with anyone else, and it makes her grin.

“What are you smiling about?” he asks softly. He’s leaning over her slightly as he pulls a small flashlight out of his pocket so he can shine it in her eyes.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asks.

“I was working until my wife rolled up into the ER unable to breathe. Near gave me a heart attack.”

“But I’m all good now,” she says, weakly pushing him away by the chest. “So go away.”

“I’m the doctor, and I say that you’re not all good until I say so.” He grabs her hand and kisses each of her knuckles before curling her hand into a fist and pressing it against his heart. “You feel that?”

“You were scared,” she teases, concentrating on the steady thumps against her hand.

“Of course I was.”

She smiles softly, pouting her lips for another kiss. When he obliges, she giggles, poking him in the face. “You nasty. You just kissed a patient.”

He gives her a look of adoration. “It doesn’t count when you’re already my wife, silly.”

“You’re also treating family, so.”

“I’m the only person on trauma that’s available right now,” he says.

“Does this even count as a trauma?”

“My heart experienced trauma,” he admits, brushing her hair away from her face. “It was highly traumatic hearing your name.”

“You love me,” she teases.

“Aw, you caught me.” He coos at her and presses kisses all over her face. “I love my wife so so much.”

“Did you know that a cookie almost took my life today?”

“I heard. I’m just wondering why you ate a cookie without checking first.”

“Piper gave it to me.”

“Attempted murder,” he says playfully. As he caresses her head, fingers threading in her hair, he asks, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m much better now that I get this sexy doctor taking care of me.”

He smirks. “Sexy, huh?”

“Very. And now I get to see you on Christmas Eve!”

“I’m not sure this was the best way to see you on Christmas Eve, baby. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“The only thing that hurts is my head because of these bright lights.” She glares at the lights as though they’ll dim in fear.

“Do you want them off?”

She shakes her head but continues glaring. “Need something to keep the Christmas spirit up.”

“Nothing like a festive migraine, right?” He moves to turn the lights off anyways before coming back to her side.

“Can you do me a favor?” she asks, fingers scratching at her arm languidly. He pushes her hand away from her skin, scolding her for scratching at the hives that have forced. She scowls at him, but he just grins.

“What do you want, love?”

“Come cuddle me.”

Percy throws his head back and laughs. “Now that might get me fired.”

“I’m not worth it?”

Percy’s thumb traces over her bottom lip. “You’re always worth it.”

And so is he, she thinks.

Percy crawls into the bed anyways, laying down by her side. It’s nice having someone willing to break the rules for her. She thinks he would have done it anyways even if she hadn’t asked him to stay with her. She rests her head against his chest, and he begins to rub her back slowly. The mess of wires is a bit uncomfortable, but she’ll live as long as Percy keeps rubbing circles into the itchy skin, as long as she can feel his body heat warming her in the cool hospital air.

She dozes off a little bit only to wake up coughing for air again. Percy becomes alert for a second, and he pulls an oxygen mask off the wall, holding it to her face. He keeps it there for her as she settles back down, and she begins to fall asleep against him again.

She’s sure that someone walked in to find them like that, but Percy doesn’t move. He stays there until she wakes back up again, and then she is much less tired and much more chatty.

“Can we watch a movie later?” she asks.

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“But we have to open presents first.”

“Of course,” he says, humoring her.

“What did you get me?”

“I can’t tell you that,” he chastises softly. “It would ruin the surprise.”

“How about you tell me now, and I pretend to be surprised later.”

Percy kisses her once. “Come on. Just wait a few more hours.”

“Oh my god, you got me that car I wanted, didn’t you?”

Percy snorts in her face. “Sure.”

“And a new house, right?” “Where do you think I’m pulling this money from, babe?”

She nuzzles his neck. “What did you get me then?”

“I got you a coupon that says you may request one baby.”

“So you got me a coupon that says we can bang mercilessly?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a lame gift.”

Percy gasps, tickling her side until she can’t breathe again. He stops as she starts wheezing, but he’s then pinching her arm lightly. “That’s so mean.”

“Just tell me what you got me for Christmas!”

“You have to wait and see!”

She sighs but gives in, laying against him again. The rest of Christmas Eve is spent like that, Percy sitting by her side listening to Annabeth talk his ear off. It’s not the Christmas Eve she ever expected, but it was certainly one to remember. When she got discharged a few hours later with Percy ending his shift, he takes her on a long carried at four in the morning so that they can look at all the pretty lights she missed out on.

And when they get home just as the sun begins to rise, they immediately both go to sleep. Percy’s arms are snug around her waist, his face pressed against her back. He says it’s because he wants to listen to her breathing and make sure she’s okay, and she makes sure to tease him endlessly for it.

In reality though, she doesn’t mind in the slightest. Christmas is spent with just them, and Percy tends to her the entire day. She takes full advantage of it, and she may have called him Dr. Sexy way too many times, but Percy just smiles and pulls her in for a kiss each time she does.

When it comes time to open presents, it turns out that he really did get her that coupon, which she makes good use of, but he also got her the extra band to her wedding ring that she’s had her eye on for months, and everything is absolutely perfect. She never would’ve thought that the best Christmas was the one where a cookie nearly murdered her, and Percy was her hot doctor, but here she is.

It’s not at all a normal Christmas, but it’s certainly a special one, and one she wouldn’t trade for the world.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 5

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

This chapter in particular is dedicated to @foxyjwls007 . If I'm going to torture you with something, it's not going to be a cliffhanger. I'm going out of town for two weeks, so you get an update early since I won't be able to post while I'm away. Thank you for the encouragement.

In case you missed it: Chapter 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 5

“Miss? Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

A hand grips Andy’s arm, firm but polite, and she jerks to, almost losing her footing. It’s been a long day already, and she still has two hours before she can go home, shower, and put her feet up for a little while before karaoke at the Brass Monkey starts up.

Maybe I can even fit in a nap, she thinks excitedly. But first, gotta wake up and make it through the rest of my shift.

Of course, if she hadn’t been tossing and turning all night from a crazy dream, she wouldn’t be as tired as she is now, but that’s neither here nor there. And it doesn’t help that she can’t even remember the stupid dream. It was really long, though, and there was blood and books and…someone...

“Can I get a refill over here?”

One hour, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds to go. She can do this.

The minutes crawl, though, and it’s all she can do to stay on her feet and focus. The lunch crowd has long since thinned, and she’s about to ask if she can maybe take off a little early when the door chimes, and she catches the tail end of the entering customers’ conversation.

“Could you at least consider putting something green on your plate? Like, ever? Broccoli won’t kill you.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m getting breakfast since you didn’t wake me up early enough to eat a decent one this morning. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee, which, I might add, grows on a tree, so it counts as a plant. That’s balanced enough for me. You like broccoli; knock yourself out, Jolly Green.”

“Sam isn’t green, Dean. Is your vision faulty? Perhaps we should get your eyes examined. Or you could try carrots along with the broccoli. Carrots are supposed to improve vision.”

No. No, no, no, she thinks, her mind whirling frantically. It was a dream, they can’t be here. This is...this is how it started, and...

She turns, and there they are, Sam and Dean dolled up in their clean, pressed feds suits and Cas looking just as rumpled and bewildered as she suddenly remembers. They seat themselves at an empty table in her section, but any thoughts of leaving early evaporated the second she heard their voices.

Every moment of the dream, every minute of those four weeks comes screaming back, cramming each terror-laden, tension-ridden second into her mind so fast she actually does stumble and has to grab the back of a nearby booth to keep from hitting the worn-out linoleum.

“It...hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something? Hey, hey, hold on there. Are you okay?”

Then Sam’s hand is supporting her elbow, helping her straighten up, and she looks up into his concerned eyes, unable to express how glad she is just to see him breathing. Behind him, Dean and Cas are arguing about something trivial, wonderfully animated and alive and completely unaware of her.

“I’m sorry, hun, it’s just been a long shift. Gimme a minute to grab some waters and menus, and I’ll be right over.” Sam accepts her flimsy excuse at face value, and why wouldn’t he? He hasn’t lived with her for the better part of a month, hasn’t saved her life once, hasn’t tried to save the world with her. He doesn’t know her at all.

Why should he question a strange waitress in a strange diner who says she’s had a long day? He’s met hundreds of women just like her, maybe thousands, and he’s got no reason to question a completely legitimate statement.

She rushes into the back to find the coldest water possible to splash on her face. Her reflection gapes back at her from the staff bathroom mirror as the enormity of her situation begins to dawn on her.

Why? Why is this happening? Either she actually lived through those weeks and is somehow getting a do-over, or she dreamed the whole thing and is getting a shot to fix things from this end. But why? And how?

How in the hell?

Think, Andrea, think. It was real. It will be real. It hasn’t happened yet. You haven’t screwed everything up yet. You have to fix this. But how? How can I fix it when I screwed everything up so very badly last time?

Just...think. Think. Start small. Try to stop it before it happens. But...the cult. Crowley said they were real. They found me before, they’ll find me again. I could talk to Sam and Dean and Cas about what's going to happen. They’ve been through enough insanity in their lives that I actually have a pretty good shot at convincing them.

She stares into the mirror, racking her brain for every helpful detail she learned during her time with the Winchesters.

They're already investigating all the break-ins hereabouts; those were the cultists looking for me in the first place. Then they find me, take me, bleed me, and start the apocalypse. The boys could stop the ritual before it even happens.

Her reflection in the mirror frowns, unconvinced the solution could possibly be that easy.

But the literature, the books, it’s all still out there. Someone else could find it, could come after me. My blood is the problem. I’m the key. As long as I’m around, someone could still use me to end everything. Crowley can still use me to get to them. Think. You’ve got to actually stop everything and save them this time.

Her eyes widen as realization dawns. The world can’t make it without the Winchesters. There’s only one way out of this.

Fifteen minutes later, she sets a fresh green salad in front of Sam before dropping a towering stack of steaming pancakes in front of Dean.

“Fresh pot of coffee coming off in two, be right back with your refills. Need any more butter or syrup, hun? How ‘bout a couple of extra pieces of bacon on the house?”

“Don’t encourage him, please,” Sam groans. Dean slaps his brother on the back of the head, sending Sam’s coiffed hair into a tizzy of disarray. Sam swipes back at his brother, who waves off Sam’s attempts at retaliation like he’s swatting a fly.

“You shut your pie hole. She said free bacon. That makes her a queen.” He turns his most charming smile on her, glancing down at her name tag then back up to meet her gaze squarely. The crinkles around his eyes deepen with his grin. “Andrea, is it?”

“Andy,” she corrects automatically, and she can’t help her answering smile. He throws her a wink that clearly says he knows he’s cheesy but it's all part of his irresistible charm.

She doesn’t disagree.

“You are a goddess, Andy. I love you, and you need to know that.”

“You don’t,” she says, only just managing to keep her voice and smile level, “but you could.” His answering laugh sends a twinge through her chest, and if she clenches her jaw a little around her smile, she figures she’s entitled.

When the men finally finish eating, she offers a slip of paper to Dean, while Sam pretends he isn’t rolling his eyes.

“There’s a karaoke competition at the Brass Monkey tonight. Winner gets tab on the house for a week. Interested in maybe meeting up there around ten or so? We could have a drink, sing a song, and see where the rest of the night takes us.”

He grins and takes the slip from her with sure fingers. She’s certain he has her number memorized before the paper even retains his prints, but he makes a special show of tucking it safely into his pocket.

“Dean, do you think it wise to allow yourself to be so distracted when we’re in the middle of an investigation?”

And without even realizing it, Cas gives her the perfect opening.

“Oh, you boys investigating all the break-ins hereabouts? Were they too much for our local boys to handle? Listen, hun, my friend was one of the ladies whose house got broken into. If you want to stick around for a few minutes, I can fill you in on what I know and send you her way. Would that help?”

Castiel’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and he is clearly pleased with his first-rate investigating skills. “That would help immensely, Miss Andrea. Thank you.”

She can’t believe her luck at such a perfect lead-in, and she runs with it.

“Now that I think about it, the shop next door mentioned something about their alarm getting tripped a few nights in a row. Maybe I could talk to your friend while you two check it out? And I’ll see you tonight, Dean? Ten o’clock?”

Dean’s grin softens, and she can see the faintest tinge of red along his cheeks. She didn’t notice it the first time around, and now she wishes she’d paid more attention. Then the brothers leave, and she’s alone with the angel. ...

Chapter 6

[thelukesalvez]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Just Friends

Request: "can u write one from luke's pov where he is madly in love with the reader but she's already got a boyfriend and he can't help but feel heartbroken knowing that he is just always going to be the readers best friend"

Word count: 5.1k

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau​ , @alvezstan​ , @lcvischmitt​ , @ogmilkis​ , @goldenalvez​ , @ssa-morgan​ , @garcias-batcave​ ,  @akimagies​, @zhangyixingxing1​ , @pinkdiamond1016​ , @yourwonderbelle​ , @rachelxwayne​ , @sc4rletw1tch​

Warnings: angst

A/N: I kept thinking of early season Jim and Pam when I wrote this so there’s def office inspiration in this fic!!!!

“Square up, Y/L/N, you’re going down.”

Luke hovered over your shoulder like a bug that just wouldn’t go away, muttering discouraging words into your ear, trying to distract you from the task at hand.  You had to admit he was doing a good job, because all you wanted to do was turn around and smack him, but you had to stay focused.  A bag of chips was on the line here.

You took a deep breath and pulled your arm back, nothing but sheer determination in your vision, and you let your paper airplane sail.  You watched as it flew through the air, coasting past the copier and fax machine, past the cluster of desks, past Luke’s airplane resting on the floor, until it hit the door to the break room and finally landed.

“Yes!” you shrieked, throwing your hands up in victory.  “I beat you by like four feet!”

Luke stares, stunned at how you managed to sail your paper airplane all the way across the office space, but nonetheless, hands you over a dollar to get your bag of chips from the vending machines.

“You really should stop betting on things with me, I always win—“ you gloat, as you both make your way into the break room.

Luke leans against the vending machine, watching you select your favorite bag from the top row.  “No way, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”  

You laugh, shaking your head at Luke’s remark before opening your bag of chips and heading back to your desk.  

Luke watches you go, that familiar sinking feeling becoming prevalent in his stomach, just like every other time you walk away.  He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his right state of mind.  He loved the friendship you two shared, but sometimes he needed a minute to stuff down all the thoughts running through his head, otherwise his undying love for you might just slip out one of these days.

The hardest part of Luke’s day was at five o’clock, when your boyfriend would meet you at the door and walk out to the parking lot with you.  Luke would smile and wave goodbye, pretending like it didn’t burn every fiber of his being watching you lace your fingers with his and smile into his side as you exited the building.  Then, he’d slowly gather his things and head to his own car, wishing you were at his side.  

…

You and Luke had been friends ever since you joined the BAU two years ago.  Two entire years, and Luke still swears it was the minute you walked in on your first day, a spot of dried toothpaste on your chin, that he fell completely in love with you.  

He spent that entire first week getting to know you, and the next planning out ways he could ask you out.  He’d never been more sure that he’d finally met the person he was meant to be with.  His soulmate, if you will.  Luke had been waiting in his car for your gray SUV to pull in one morning.   He planned on exiting at the same time as you, playing it off as a harmless coincidence, and then walking with you up to the third floor.  It was a cold December morning when he saw Sam for the first time.  Then of course he didn’t know his name.  He knew the man as someone driving you to work, with slim shoulders and a trimmed beard.  He leaned over the center console and planted a kiss right on your lips before making a U-turn and exiting the parking lot.  Luke had let his head drop and made a beeline for the door, trying his best to ignore you calling his name and the gut-wrenching dread he felt.  

That was two years ago, and Luke still hadn’t moved on.  How could he when you sat only feet away from him?  Spreading your infectious laugh and always being there to make him smile?  No, Luke hadn’t moved on.  Instead, he’d just learned to live with it.  He swallowed his feelings and instead focused on the friendship that you two shared, no matter how much it killed him inside.  It was always about more than friendship, and he knew it from the start. Even though that is what he loved most about you. Falling in love was quick, easy, inevitable. You would talk and laugh and be happy. If life is a series of moments, then it was those innocent instances that defined Luke for the longest time.

But falling also hurt.  You were his best friend. You told him everything, but he had to keep his biggest secret hidden from you.  On that first day, even if you didn’t remember it, he could see a future. Your future together. And for that split second he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to forget about the rest of the world and focus on you. But there was no messing this up. This was you, and it was really just complicated.

…

Luke sat in his car in the parking lot the next morning eating his breakfast and occasionally warming up his hands in front of the air vents. Just as he was finishing off his bagel, there was a soft knock on his window. It took him half a second to realize it was you; your coat was zipped up to your chin and your beige scarf covered most of your face. Luke quickly got out of his car and you both exchanged hellos in the still-dark parking lot.

“What are you doing here so early?” he asks, shivering a little in the cold winter air.

“Sam and I kind of had another spat last night and I wanted to get out before he woke up…" you trail off. Luke’s jaw clenches at the mention of his name.  ”What about you?“

“I have to make a call to the LA precinct first thing this morning.  if I don’t call him by 8am sharp, he said he couldn’t file the evidence we gathered while we were consulting there on time. I wanted to go over the case file before that.”

“So you got here before the sunrise?”

“It’s a big file,” Luke says with a smile.

You chuckle and then look over to the far end of the parking lot, “Hey, come with me.”

It was one of those commands Luke didn’t have to hear twice. He followed you, his hand in his pockets and his nose buried in his own scarf. You both walked over to the edge of the lot, and you stepped up on the curb, standing on your tip-toes. Luke furrowed his eyebrows.

“Come on, Luke,” you say playfully.

He laughed nervously before following your actions. He faced the direction you were facing and saw that through the fence there was a perfect view of the distant hills on the east side of the city. The sky was thick and dark blue and the hills looked outlined with gold. The sun began to peek over the horizon and the buildings in the horizon went from grays to a bright mixture of yellows and oranges.

Luke glanced over at you as you looked at the view, smiling wide, the sun hitting your eyes. Luke could never quite tell, your eyes always looked hazel and sadly dull in the florescent light of the office, but for the first time he saw their true color: a brilliant green with splashes of brown near the center.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you asked.

“Yeah, really is,” Luke says, still looking straight at you.

“We should go inside,” you said quietly, noticing his insistent stare from your corner view.  “I’m freezing.”

Luke nods, eyes lingering on the view a moment longer before he trails behind you inside the building.  

…

It's a habit, more than anything else, that has Luke lingering in the break room when he sees the tired lines in your face three days later. It’s instinct, to ask you if you want to talk. To take a seat at the table before he has a chance to consider the implications of what he’s just offered.

Besides, first and foremost, he’s your friend.

More than anything, he wants you to be happy.  And if there’s something he can do to ease the tension in your shoulders, to watch the frustrated crease in your brow fade back into familiar calm, then he will. Of course he will.

Being the one to elicit a smile from you is worth the cost of his own discomfort.

Patiently, he listens to your perspective on the misunderstanding between yourself and Sam, he tries to detach himself from the situation enough to give you the sort of sincere and thoughtful advice he’d extend to anyone in that position. But he doesn’t want your thanks — your gratitude that much worse because it’s genuine.  

Luke had served as the backboard for you since he met you.  He was always around to listen.  Maybe he was imagining it, but it seemed like you and Sam had been fighting more and more lately.  He hated seeing you upset on a daily basis in the break room and he tried to ignore the sliver of hope he felt inside.  

Apparently last night had been bad.  Luke can tell the minute he sees your puffy eyes and quivering lip.  

“What happened?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shrug, trying to be brave, but the tears fall anyway.  “He threw a glass at the wall next to me last night.  He was drunk… muttering about how he thought I was cheating on him.”

“Oh my god—“ Luke said, gut dropping as he imagined how scared you must have been in that moment.

“I don’t think he’d ever hurt me or anything.  But I was scared.”

“What’d you do?” he asks, taking the seat at the table across from you.

You curled your hands around your mug of coffee, “I left.  Went to my moms.  I think it’s over.  I mean, it has to be, right?”

Luke wants to blurt out a gigantic yes, but instead he empathetically furrows his brows and nods softly, “I definitely don’t like the idea of you being scared.” And without thinking, he reaches his hand across the table and touches yours softly.  

Your eyes shoot down to where your hands touch, all of a sudden you feel so nervous.  You pull back and drag your coffee mug to your chest.  

“I should get back to work.”

…

Luke has a hard time focusing the rest of the day.  It was over.  You said that.  It was over and maybe, just maybe, Luke had a chance here.  He’d be your friend first, of course.  Just like it’d always had been.  He wouldn’t rush you.  But now he had a chance to prove how much you truly meant to him.  He was elated.  Lighter and more hopeful than he’d felt in months.  

It all comes crashing down with the sound of the office door opening and closing. Luke’s fists clench at his side the minute he sees Sam walk through the doors.  He’s ready to get up and ward him off if necessary; the idea of him yelling at you makes his blood boil.  But he watches from his desk instead, as Sam makes his way to you, gently tapping your shoulder and whispering something in your ear.  

Your initial reaction is wide eyes, filled with what is that?  Fear?  It fades quickly, morphs into anger.  Then sympathy.  Luke watches as you grab your coat from the back of your chair and willingly follow him out of the office, through the door without looking back.  

…

“He apologized, and he really was just so sincere.  I think he really meant it.”

Luke nods and takes another swig of coffee, which wasn’t even warm now.  He cringes.  

“Sounds it,” he says dully.  Not even he can fake enhance the amount of enthusiasm in his voice.  

“What’s that?” you ask, offended by his dull tone.

He looks at you and raises an eyebrow.  Disappointment and anger and frustration all boiling under the surface of his skin after seeing you and Sam kissing in the parking lot again this morning, so he decides for the first time in a long time; to be honest.

“No, it’s just I’ve heard all of this before.  It gets a bit old is all.”

“It gets a bit old?” you repeat, stunned by his response.

“Yeah you and Sam.  He does something nasty, you break up or contemplate breaking up, then he apologizes with roses or chocolates or what was it this time?  Perfume?  Same story, different version.  Can’t blame me for getting bored with it.”

And then Luke walks straight out of the break room and back to his desk, where there’s a light flashing on his phone.  He presses the button and pulls up a chair to listen to the voicemail.

“Hey Luke, it’s Dave from the New York field office.  Meant to catch you before lunch, but I wanted to talk to you about an agent opening here.  It’d be a promotion for you.  More duties, but more pay, all of that.  Give me a call back with the details if you’re interested.  Thanks.”

…

It ended in the parking lot, the blooming seed of happiness that lived deep in his chest was fading, right next to his heart.  It was his best friend, his sole support, the girl of his life who made everything just a little bit better. It was you standing there, your jaw dropping with surprise and Luke with his entire heart and soul on the line.

It was Luke that changed the game. This game of yours, the little dance of just barely something more than friends.  He had nothing left to lose, because he couldn’t do it anymore.  So he gave himself an ultimatum.  Tell her you love her.  Tell her and if she turns you down, you can accept the job.  Tell her you love her.  Tell her and if she loves you back, you can live happily ever after.  

The words hang thickly in the air.  “I love you, Y/N.  I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

You stand still in your spot, eyes watering and eyebrows furrowed with confusion and surprise.  And for a quick second, Luke thinks you might say it back.  But then you drop your clenched fist to your side and you let out a loud, inconvenient sigh and it’s amazing how quick his gut picks up on the rejection.  It drops as you start muttering about how “you can’t” and  “you have a boyfriend.”

“Listen, Luke—“

But that’s all. Because Luke doesn’t want to listen. His hands wrap around you and Sam has never held you like you’re this precious.  It’s gentle but firm, warm and large, pulling you softly towards him, gathering you, even as his mouth falls against yours, just as lightly, just a hint of pressure and you feel so small against him, against this unspoken message that he loves you. And it’s powerful.

“Luke—“ you say, finally pulling back.  

He freezes, jerks away, his hands still gentle, even as his eyes are screaming, those big brown eyes that love you. “You’re really going to be with him?”

Your ‘yes’ is locked into your throat and tears fill your eyes, but somehow you can’t look away as you destroy your best friend from the inside out. There are a million reasons to stay with Sam and only one to leave him, because you maybe love Luke, but you maybe don’t love Luke, and it’s that thought that makes you nod.  

“Okay.”

You can’t blame him when he walks away, when he holds on to your hands for as long as possible, even as he can’t look you in the eyes. You want him to look at you. You want him to fight for you, but you know that’s unfair to ask him. But you don’t want to lose him and you somehow know you’re going to and you need him to understand, but before you know it… he’s gone.

…

It’s not as if you’ve never seen his desk without him sitting there, because of course you have. He’s stayed home sick, made occasional use of his vacation days, gone on consulting trips and prison interviews— you know what the office looks like when the shape of him is missing, but it’s the permanence of it that hurts.  

As you settle in that first day of Luke’s absence, you hang your coat up and take a seat, You let yourself miss him as a coworker and as a best friend and that’s it. Work will be work, with or without Luke Alvez.

But that’s a lie, because of course it hurts like hell.

Each day it’s harder, when it starts to sink in that this doesn’t mean a handful of days out recovering from the flu or visiting his family, but that there is a new and permanent Luke-sized hole in the fabric of you. So you play sudoku to avoid noticing the absence of his voice and you doodle in your notebook margins during case consultation meetings to ignore all the jokes he can’t whisper in your ear.  

As the days go on, regret floods deeper within you.  You always knew Luke was your best friend.  But you probably always always knew he was more than that too.  You just wished you’d been brave enough to see that.

That night you break up with Sam.  This time, there’s no yelling or screaming or wine glasses thrown against the wall.  It’s respectable and understood that they are just not meant to be.  You thought there’d be a Sam-sized hole inside of you now too, but there’s not.  Instead, it just makes room for Luke’s hole to grow bigger.  

…

It’s twenty past seven and you’ve got your coat on and bag in hand when the phone rings.

You debate for a moment about answering it — after all, technically you shouldn’t even still be here.

But, well, you are still there, so it’s equal parts obligation and impulse that has you reaching for the handset and saying, “Hello?” with a slightly tired edge in your tone.

“Uh, hey.”

And — oh. Oh. 

“Oh my god.”

“Hi.”

“Um… Hi.”

Witty. Clever. Exactly the kind of thing you’d imagined herself saying to Luke when you finally reconnected after too-many-weeks of silence.

“Sorry, I needed a number from Garcia.  It was from a case we worked not long ago—”

“Oh.”

“—and I was just gonna leave a voicemail, because I didn’t think anyone would still be there.”

It’s hard not to wonder if Luke had been making an open effort to avoid you on purpose, if he’d waited to call until twenty past seven because you were supposed to be gone and he’s supposed to get a machine instead.  

“Why are you still there?”

“I had to work late.” And then, because that sounds flimsy, goes on. “Well I didn’t have to, but there were just some open files I wanted to finish up.”

“Wow,” he says, the faint tone of amusement in his voice.  “Wow, the BAU has really changed you Y/L/N.  Going above and beyond, that’s not you.”

And you’re smiling—because it’s Luke and you aren’t sure your face is capable of behaving any other way around him—but there’s something nervous and careful in the lines of your expression that isn’t usually there. You’ve missed him, but knows that a subtle shift occurred in your relationship that can’t be undone, that things might never be as easy as they once were.

“Everything else is pretty much the same here.” Except—god, no—of course it isn’t.

“Oh…good.”

You change up your previous statement. “A little different.” Because you need him to understand that even though the routines of the office cycle on, no part of that environment could ever be the same to you without him there. Then you ask, “what time is it there?”

“…What time is it here?” He pauses, something uncertain and unsure in his tone. “Um, we’re in the same time zone.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“How far apart did you think we were?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, embarrassed. “It feels really far.” And you can hear his thoughtful, quiet agreement that suggests it’s more than just the miles dividing D.C. and New York that’s currently between you.

…

It took you until the next morning to get your act together.  You were walking into the building, the sun rising across the lot, and you felt it.  A crumpled up piece of paper in your pocket.  You gripped it in your fist before pulling it out, unwrapping the paper and trying to make out the scrubbed words.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” It was a note from Luke.  One from back before the airplane competition, where you’d bet on how many green M&M’s were in the jar resting on Garcia’s desk.  You’d beat him easily, leaving time to gloat on how he should just give up on betting against you, cause you always won, just like you did every other time you two bet on something.  Luke had left the note on your desk with the soda you’d won.  

You could feel the tears surfacing, blurring your vision as you turned in your spot and starting walking all the way back to your car.  You opened the note up again after you’d sat in the driver’s seat, unfolding the paper and running your hands over Luke’s scratchy scrawl and letting yourself feel what was long overdue.  It all floods in at once.  The despair, the guilt, the regret.  But also the love and admiration and memories of laughing, smiling, feeling lighter than ever around him.  

You stop in your tracks, backing out of the building and walking back towards your car.  

You pull your phone out of the depths of your pocket and dial your boss’ number quickly. 

“Emily,” you say when she answers.  “I need to take the day off.  I have to go to New York.”

…

The city was so close down the road, you could see the outline of hazy buildings out of the window.  You stared diligently ahead, running through what you were going to exactly say to Luke when the time came.  But before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking lot of the New York FBI field office, sliding into the spot beside Luke’s car as an automatic reflex, and you still had no idea what you were doing, what you would say. Yet your feet trudged up to the front door, almost like a little girl who knew that you had to admit to your mother that you’d smashed her favorite vase, because it had to be done, you just weren’t quite ready for the aftermath. There were no obstacles now.  No Sam or unacknowledged feelings and you were sure that’s what scared you the most. What if, after all this time, Luke had just had enough?  What if you just weren’t meant to be?

You walked right up to reception, waiting until the woman hung up the phone before telling her you were here to see Luke.

“Y/N?” his familiar voice rings through the air and when you look over, you can see him standing up from his desk.  “What are you doing here?” There’s a hint of curiosity and surprise and maybe even a little excitement in his voice.  

You couldn’t tell him here.  You had to go somewhere more private.  

“Could we um, talk?” you say quietly, offering him the slightest smile even amidst your nerves.

“Yeah,” he says, “let me just grab my coat—“ he motions back towards his desk with his thumb, where you see his familiar black jacket hanging off from the back of his chair.  You wait patiently with your arms crossed across your chest, bouncing on the backs of your heels.

“All set?” he says, hand buried deep within his pockets.

You walk down to the parking lot in silence, still pondering what you were going to say to Luke in your head.  

“How’s New York?” you asked after thanking him for holding the door open for you.  You wanted to stall as long as possible.

Luke chuckles, “Common, Y/N.  You didn’t drive three and a half hours to New York to ask me how the city is.”

You blush, of course you didn’t.  But you still didn’t know what to say to him.  To Luke.  The man you loved, completely and wholly, with everything inside of you.

You could feel your cheeks growing hot as you thought about what you were about to admit.  You’d had so much courage built up inside of you before, but now, it was quickly draining.  You had to say it before you were completely empty.

“I miss you.”

Your heart’s still thumping like crazy, banging against your ribs, and you’re not entirely sure what you just said.

And Luke didn’t say anything back to you, but it wasn’t like you said all the stuff that you were thinking to him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you continue, your voice wavering.

Luke shakes his head. “I’m okay.“

You nod. There’s a silence, long enough that you worry you’re not going to be able to say it all and nothing will happen and you’ll go back to being scared and afraid. You want to be someone who says what they feel.

“It’s just— the BAU isn’t the same and… I miss you.  I miss you a lot, Luke.  I miss my best friend.”

“It can’t be that way again, Y/N,” he says. "I wasn’t your best friend. I was in love with you.”

“We could just go back to the way things were—“ 

"No,” he says. He’s standing so still, arms at his sides.  ”What you miss – that wasn’t friends. That was us… that was me being something more. All the time. And I can’t do that anymore.  It hurt too much.”

You feel kind of sick, but a little voice in the back of your head says you should be grateful for whatever happened, because it was better than being endlessly, endlessly quiet.

“Then I’m really sorry,” you say at last. “Because I miss that.”

“What do you think that means?” he asks, and there’s a little heat in his voice. “What do you think you’re really missing?”

Before, you would have undoubtedly ducked your head and avoided the question, or flat-out lied. Now though, you had driven three and a half hours and you’re standing in front of Luke, far enough away that you have to speak up for him to hear.

“I know what it means,” you say quietly. “And you know.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t. You’ve made it clear you only wanted to be friends.”

“I don’t think I’ve made anything clear,” you say, and for the first time you have the urge to move closer, speak more softly, because this is the hard part, the thing you couldn’t say in front of everyone else. “I should have been honest a long time ago, and I know that, but I couldn’t until I knew what I wanted.”

“Do you?” he asks after a moment, his voice low. “Know?”

You take a big breath, letting the oxygen go to your head, willing back the feeling you had just before you ran up to the third floor. “I want to feel the way I did when I was with you, back before you moved to New York.  I don’t want to be lonely, and I want to redo the past two years except it made me figure out a lot of things about myself, so I don’t know. I want stuff to be easy, Luke, and it isn’t, and I thought that maybe if we could be friends again I could have one thing in my life that made me happy, even if it wasn’t what I really wanted.”

He’s quiet for a long time. The wind whips against you, making you shiver.

“Why can’t you say it?” he asks.

“Would anything change if I did?”

“I don’t know, everything changed when I said it.”

“Fuck it,” you mumble, the cold air filling your lungs, “I love you.  I have loved you but I was with Sam and I was afraid and I didn’t know it.  And I’m still afraid, but I know it now.”

You stare and wait for his reaction, hoping with everything inside of you that you weren’t too late.  But the look on Luke’s face, the sad, almost pitiful stare, gave you reason to believe that you were.

And your courage drained for good.

“I’m sorry,” you said, wiping a tear falling down your cheek, “I shouldn’t have come.  I’m gonna go.  It was nice to see you,” you mumble before turning away and heading towards your car.

When Luke saw you turn away, it was as if lightning struck him. All he could see was your back, stiff and tense, walking back towards your car, parked near his, and suddenly he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know how it had come to this. The last several months had turned you both into people he didn’t even recognize anymore, and he blamed himself.

You were all he ever wanted. You were the one he saw in his dreams and imagined in his fantasies for years on end, and he had you. It was supposed to be forever, but all he seemed to do anymore was hurt you. The Luke from six weeks ago would absolutely kill him for that. The Luke from six weeks ago would feel about him like he used to feel about Sam. Sam took you for granted, and didn’t consider your feelings.

Like Luke was doing now.

He sprinted toward you, his long legs reaching yours in just a couple of long strides, and he grabbed your arm to turn you around. You had no idea what was happening, but he didn’t stop to explain. He simply wrapped his arms all the way around you, and held you close. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t reciprocate immediately. He pulled you closer. He buried his face in your hair, nuzzled into your neck, and tried to breathe you in. He remembered the electric shock of when you first met (for him, anyway), how it felt to love you and not be able to have you.  He couldn’t let himself let it slip away.

You finally wrapped your arms around him, and he felt a small shudder go through you. You pulled back and he could see your face crumple just before you took his face in both hands and kissed him. When you parted, you were both smiling as said, “I love you” in unison.  

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 12: The Letter

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 1,582

Chapter Summary: The events of the Games have Teki’s head spinning.

A/N:  This is the calm before the storm.

Thanks for reading! 

TW: Mentions of child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

Teki picked at the sash of her dress as she sat in her seat on the podium. Before her, the Games continued in all their raucous glory, but she barely registered them. Odin hadn’t spared her even a passing glance when he returned to his seat. Frigga had given her a reassuring smile, but there was a tightness in her face that blocked any comfort she may have intending to bring. Her mind was racing.

What are they thinking? Are they angry? Am I in trouble? Are they going to tell Osvald? Does he know what happened?

And then there was the other thing. The thing that Loki had said just before she went rushing from the tent.

I don’t want you to marry my brother.

Teki didn’t even know how to try to untangle her thoughts on that.

The words still rattled in her head even as she readied for bed that night, once she realized that Osvald was far too drunk to remember whether or not she stayed in her seat the entire day. After helping Brant into his nightclothes and tucking him in, Teki returned to her room in a pensive silence.

I don’t want you to marry my brother.

A secret, selfish part of her had always wanted him to say that. It had been easy to deny when it was hidden away, out of sight. She could ignore the butterflies that fluttered to life every time he smiled at her when it seemed she was the only one who could feel them. But Loki had released them into the wild, and now they were impossible to corral.

I don’t want to marry your brother either.

Tears prickled across her vision. Teki wiped at her eyes in frustration. None of them wanted it. Loki, Thor, Sif, herself—none of them wanted this engagement. And none of them mattered.

She dug under her mattress for her father’s journal. She wasn’t certain that even the familiar script would be enough to soothe her jumbled thoughts tonight, but still she flipped through the pages in search of comfort. The search for her father had been put on the back burner while Loki prepared for the Games, but Teki hoped to continue it as soon as possible. Running her hands down the leather spine, she closed her eyes and imagined him walking through the door for the first time in years, imagined showing him how she had taught herself the pieces he was able to play for her, imagined him meeting Brant, meeting Loki…

Her daydream abruptly stalled when her fingers slipped into a split in the back cover. What? Teki glanced down in surprise. Had she torn the book?

No. There was a flap on the inside cover, a pocket that she had never noticed before. What the Hel? She pulled it open, peering into the grimy leather cavern. It was empty, save for a tiny piece of paper, folded into quarters and yellowed with age.

She recognized her father’s handwriting immediately, although it was a bit more polished than the hurried scrawl she usually found in his journal. It was an unfinished letter, she realized dimly, dated the week before he left, addressed to her mother.

Áslaug—

I understand your frustrations, and I realize your father has put you under considerable pressure. But I beg you to examine why this proposal is so important to you and ask yourself what you hope to gain from it. It’s become alarmingly clear to me these past few months that your highest priority lies in increasing your own social stature, and I fear that you have signed off on this marriage agreement only because of the benefits it would bring you and without a thought given to how it may effect Tekla. I know you argue that it would be good for her in the long term, and perhaps it would, but neither of us can know that with certainty. And in your greed, you would take away her right to choose her own destiny. I cannot allow that. I will not consent to my daughter being used as a bargaining chip for your family’s schemes.

Teki reread the words several times over, their meaning not fully dawning on her for a bit. I will not consent to my daughter being used as a bargaining chip for your family’s schemes. They were talking about her arranged marriage, obviously, but this couldn’t have been her father’s true thoughts. A marriage agreement could not be made official without the wholehearted approval from both sets of parents. He had to have agreed.

Although…

Her father left only a few days before the arrangement was made public. Actually, now that she thought of it, Osvald and her mother’s engagement was announced before her own. She remembered her mother’s frantic insistence that she accept her stepfather into her life as quickly as possible.

We have Lord Osvald, Tekla. He’s your father now.

If he believed Steinn would no longer be in her life, would Odin have accepted Osvald’s word as her paternal consent? Possibly. Probably.

That must have been convenient for her mother.

She remembered Völundr’s hazel eyes, how somber they had grown when Loki asked him if he had heard from Steinn.

I don’t know what happened that night, but I know there’s no way in Hel he left you of his own accord.

Teki closed the journal in a fog, tucking the creased letter within the pages. All at once, she felt as if she was going to be sick.

…

She had hoped for a chance to talk to Loki at some point during the night-long feast that followed the conclusion of the Games. The Great Hall was booming with boisterous celebration. Prince Thor had been crowned champion yet again, the perfect excuse for everyone to get wildly drunk. He certainly was making the most of it—in between overflowing mugs of mead and garbled chants with his friends, he pulled Sif across the dance floor and planted his lips firmly on hers in front of all to see. Teki pretended she didn’t notice the whispers, the scandalized glances as people turned from the Crown Prince to his would-be bride. She waited patiently in her seat for Loki to ask her to dance, fiddling with the sash of her crimson dress.

He danced with other girls first. That bothered her more than it should have. Teki knew of course that she had no claim on the younger prince’s company, but that didn’t quiet the feral growl gurgling in her chest every time she watched him bow to another. Mine. He’s mine.

It didn’t help that for the first several dances Loki didn’t even as much as look in her direction. At first, Teki bristled. Why was he avoiding her? Was he angry? Did he… did he regret what he said to her after his duel?

But as the night went on, Teki began to worry that there was something else going on. His frame was stiffer than usual. His quiet conversation somehow carried over the clamor of the Great Hall. The boy who usually preferred to remain hidden in the shadows seemed to be making a point of emphasizing his presence. She was relieved when he finally made his way over to her seat.

He bowed. “Lady Tekla.”  Teki barely masked a frown. Tekla? Yes, something certainly was off.

Still, she stood and curtseyed as if she thought nothing of it. “My prince.”

“Would you honor me with the next dance?” Loki’s voice was loud, and oddly stilted. Again, Teki felt as if he was putting on a performance. She nodded, allowing him to lead her to floor.

“Is something wrong?” she whispered as they navigated through the throng of merrymakers.

Loki shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “My father,” he hissed under his breath. “He’s had his eye on me all night.”

She glanced back towards the podium without moving her head. Odin sat back in his throne, his disapproving glare fixed solidly upon the two of them. Teki gulped.

“Are you in trouble because of me?” she asked. She thought of the tent, how she had fled first chance she got and left Loki to defend himself alone. Guilt festered in her heart.

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” he said quickly, pulling her farther back across the dance floor. “He’s just… concerned. That I’m getting in the way.” He grimaced, scanning the crowd surrounding them. “You need to dance with Thor tonight.” The words came out stiffly, as if merely voicing them aloud pained him.

“I can’t!” she hissed. Thor was in the corner, surrounded by a group of people Teki didn’t recognize, chugging a goblet of something as they chanted excitedly. “He never asks me.”

Loki followed her gaze, sighing. “He’s a fool. I’ll make sure he asks you.”

The song was nearing an end. She still hadn’t told him about the letter. Teki pulled his arm.

“Loki, I found something else in the journal,” she whispered. “About my father.”

The prince’s eyes widened. “Really?” But the dance was coming to a finish. Loki led her back towards the platform, the two of them wilting under Odin’s stare. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he murmured as he bowed, giving her hand a slight squeeze.

Teki nodded. “Goodnight.” She sighed as her prince disappeared back into the crowd and returned to her seat, resigning herself to a night of waiting for Thor to remember her.

[ahsxual]

Romantic Anniversary

Pairing: Patrick Verona x Reader

Summary: It's your birthday and Pat has prepared everything for your day be perfect.

Genre: Fluff Fluff and more fluff

Word count: 1,4k

A/N: This one is with Pat 🥰 He's sooo cute, I want to hug and give him kisses all over his face so badly 🥺 Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

Patrick Verona. The name of the boy that makes sure you are happy everyday, the one who makes sure you feel loved every moment, the one who loves you as much as you love him. By his side, you feel so safe, so alive, and so lucky to have him, to have someone who cares for you so deeply and doesn't give up on you. Never.

He is seen as a rebellious and pathetic anti-social guy whose middle's name was trouble. Everyone, except you. And that's why he loves to assure you that he's so greatful for everything you have done for him, by loving you every way possible: from taking care of you when you're sick and wiping your tears away on the hardest moments, to offering you presents and being with you whenever he's available. However, today was a different day. A special and unique day. Why? Well, that's simple: because it was your day. The day where an angel and a precious kind soul was born to rescue him from the merciless darkness of the world. He wanted everything to be perfect for you: although he didn't care about school, he surely was way too perfectionist whenever you were the subject of the matter.

While you were with some friends during the day, reserving the entire night only for your dedicated and loving boyfriend, Patrick was setting all the things he bought for your birthday party: he bought balloons, your favorite cake with your cutest picture together on it, your favorite t-shirt and sweater, two tickets for the premiere movie that you wanted so badly to see and two rings with each others names on it, making your relationship official.

Saying that he was excited and anxious wasn't enough to describe how he really felt. He couldn't wait to see your big bright smile planted on your face, proudly knowing that he was the one responsible for it.

Hours passed and he was checking for the hundrenth time if everything was placed correctly, until your front door opened:

"Baabe, I'm home! I'm all yours now! " you said while putting your bag on the wooden hanger. You got no response, however you didn't worry too much about it once you saw all the red petals and lit candles that were dimming the dark space, leading to your bedroom. You slowly followed the lit path ahead of you, admiring how beautiful the view was.

When you reached your bedroom's door, you saw several red velvet hearts all over and white letters of the same material glued to it, saying: "Only allowed for my gorgeous goodness and future wife". Instinctively your eyes became wet and your vision turved from your happy tears that eventually shamelessly appeared, but you decided to wipe them and play his game instead.

"I'm sorry, but I wanted to know if I'm allowed to come in! " you spoke loudly, wanting to your not-yet-seen boyfriend to hear you.

"Identify yourself, miss." you heard him respond from the other side of the room. You smiled at this, remembering instantly how naturally you communicate, understand and joked around with each other with such little effort.

"My name is Y/n L/n, sir." after this, the door opened, revealing your lovely boyfriend whom owned a smile bigger than the sky and brighter than every single star on it.

"I've been waiting for you, my love. Make yourself at home." he joked, mimicking the gentleman of the old romance movies.

You couldn’t resist him anymore, so you immediately jumped on his arms and started kissing him hard, not caring on letting your emotions take control over you.

"Woow, someone was eager to see me, huh?" he moved a piece of your hair behind your ear so he could see and kiss you properly.

"You can't imagine how much, big boy." you said before kissing him again, this time slower yet passionately. When you pulled away, he placed you on the ground, giving you a last quick kiss before showing you the rest of his surprises: there was a small table on the corner of your room with your cake on it and several balloons of your favorite color around, attached to the table; on it were some red petals as well around the cake and some papers glued to it, all of them saying the reasons why he fell in love with you: "you helped and cared about me when no one else did", "you never believed any of those rumors about me and never judged me", "you always were kind, gentle, attentive and so so beautiful to me", "you are so silly like me, yet that's just one more reason to love you more, if that's even possible" and so many others. It was outstanding and simply perfect. When you got closer, you saw your favorite picture of yourselves printed on your cake.

"Oh my God Pat, this one was taken on our first date!" you said feeling nostalgic of one of your most memorable moments together. "You-you did all this? For me??" you could already feel new tears starting to form in your eyes.

"This and so much more." he promised, kneeling right after while still making eye contact with your overwhelmed eyes. You were confused, yet so excited to see what more he had planned for you. He took a small black velvet box inside of his back pocket and opened it to you, only to reveal two silver rings with your names on it: you were speechless by this.

"Pat, y-you didn't need to-" you couldn't believe this was actually happening.

"Shhh don't say that, of course I needed. And wanted it too." he then removed the one that had his name on it, before grabbing your hand delicately. "May I?" he questioned, waiting for your permission first.

"Of course, baby!" he was so happy and proud of himself to know you've reacted the way he was hoping for: his plan was going great so far. He slowly put the ring on your finger, while admiring how beautiful it was on you. "Well, I guess now it's my turn." you offered, after eyeing mindlessly how the ring looked on your finger. This gesture was way much more than you ever expected.

"Go ahead, sweet cheeks." he loved to call you every possible nickname, memorizing which one made your smile grew bigger. "The next ones will be put on our wedding." he said confidently, while looking at you as if you were the most marvelous woman alived.

"I'm so happy, Patrick! This is so, so perfect, I can't even believe you made all of this!"

"Why can't you? Are you underestimating me?" He complained, pretending to be offended.

"Of course not, silly! I just... I just didn't expect you to be so romantic." you teased while putting your arms around his neck, only to be gently grabbed by your waist in return.

"What can I say... I like to impress and show my princess what I'm capable of." he smiled once again, before kissing you.

"Oh by the way, it's such a shame that we will have to eat that delicious cake! I don't want to ruin the picture!! " he laughed at this, kissing you this time on the forehead instead.

"Well, it seems like we have to order more cakes like this one than, but with another picture." now was your turn to laugh.

The rest of the night was spent the best way possible: you opened the rest of the presents he had for you, saw your favorite movies together while eating your favorite snacks, danced with him, gossiped about your secrets that weren't already revealed while he told you about his, had pillow talks while he cuddled with you and listened so carefully to your opinions about several subjects... you couldn't be any happier. This was all you wished for: to spend your day by the side of your soulmate, your lover, your best friend. The only one who truly understands you... that night was sufficient proof that he was the right one and the only one for you.

[blushing-starker]

For my Gracie dear. What would I do without you in my life? Merry Christmas darling. @vaguekiwi

"Well, you wouldn't really be in this position if you had accepted my proposal, baby cheeks. In fact, I'm practically drooling over the thought of you saying fuck it and coming to visit with a few surprises beneath that second skin you're rocking." Two sentences, two very different tones of voice, both trying to coax him in. Reprimand and flirt, the only possible courses of action for Wade when it came to them.

"So I guess it's true what they say; chivalry died when you were born, Wade. Every single conversation between us is proof and the world knows it." He grinned as soon as he heard the exaggerated gasps over the landline, always loved these tennis matches with his partner in crime.

Sure, the 'red devil' of Cliffwood often threaded barely subtle, often outlandish innuendos into their interactions and never denied the neighborhood a chance of seeing him draped over Peter, but it was, God forgive him, fun. Exciting and a little thrilling.

And also past their bedtime. So to speak. "I gotta go and I know Wanda likes to cook late. Go help her in the kitchen, Mr Gifted Hands. Vision might give me an A in the next exam if I told him I encouraged you to make his favorite lasagna." It won't happen, obviously. The Maximoffs, because Vision had adopted the name on his second date with Wanda long before their wedding, were usually chaotic neutrals that tried sticking to the right side of the law. Hopefully, Mr Maximoffs' morality would at least allow the man to add a five point bonus on Peter's next physics test.

"Oh, you finally admit my hands are gifted, Mr Parker? How forward of you." If there was one thing that he loved about being friends with the incorrigible Wade Wilson, it was how the man oozed sex like it was nothing. His surety in it, in flirting, in courting and joking made Peter feel at ease. Most people, even those like Mr Rogers with his slightly conservative views, enjoyed Wade's antics because they were harmless.

Most of the time. The guy had slept with two thirds of the town, after all.

"I'm not sleeping with you, Wade. What would Vanessa say of-"

"Please, the woman basically throws me at people in the hopes of watching me sleep with them."

"you being with me before her?"

"..."

Peter squinted at a shiny red nail, worried he'd somehow messed up Morgan's job of decorating him in the Christmas spirit. The lamp next to the couch is a tad dimmer than usual, right, he has to swap the bulbs. He'd completely forgotten in the midst of playing with Morgan and Rocky, baking them brownies, battling the upstairs shower mold, decluttering the toy boxes and throwing something semi appealing for dinner. There was a spare light in the, was it the garage? No, his memory had been reduced to physics laws and the kids' allergies, but Peter's sure he would have noticed. Maybe Morgan had hidden them in the office, Rocky liked chewing on light bulbs so it's not too unlikely

"Shit, Parker, now I'm thinking about that, Jesus. Christ on a bicycle! Hmm? It's nothing, Wanda, just Peter being a brat and a tease."

"Hey, I'm not a brat!"

"Says you. I bet a certain member of the awesome facial hair club could evidence the opposite. Actually, I'll go right over and ask, hey!" The sound of Wade distinctly face planting onto the Maximoffs couch sent Peter into enough hysterics he could barely make out what Wanda was saying.

"I sincerely apologize for the little devil-"

"I'm almost two heads taller than you!"

"that can't seem to mind his manners no matter how many times we try to teach him how to be human."

"It's," God, he's wheezing like a freshman first day of gym with Coulson, "perfectly alright, Miss. I'm the one that should say sorry for keeping him up so late, I know he has chores to do around the house. Lovely Christmas lights, by the way. I think you guys might win the competition again this year."

There's a tiny worm of guilt crawling up his throat; how could he distract Wade when Wanda had her hands full with an energetic baby ready to sprint out of the house at any moment?

"Oh sweet Peter," she drawls out the vowels, like they're honey and she's trying her best to stretch them out, savour them, "you really think so? I thought the yard looked perfect, but Vision insisted on decorating the roof to 'ensure our win against my dear brother in law'. And please, a happy Wade that's finished his teasing for the day is wonderful for us. He cleans faster and doesn't kiss my cheeks as much."

"Wait, you did the roof?" He knew the Maximoff siblings were intense, had witnessed Pietro stabbing flamingos into Clint's lawn just to add some color to his already bright remodeling a weeks ago.

"You haven't seen it? Tell Morguna's father to take you outside to see it while the kids are watching television. That way you can go back with an excuse if you get too nervous with him."

Peter spluttered, ignored the fact his cheeks were flaming, pretended he couldn't hear Wade's howling through the phone. "I don't, I wouldn't, it's not like, I mean. The, the kids will probably sleep early tonight."

"Perfect, you won't have an excuse and he'll finally kiss you. Oh, Vision. Hello, dear, I'm saying goodbye to Peter. That idiot might kiss him tonight."

"Hello? Hello, Peter. I'm very happy for you both; but may I request you kiss after midnight? I'm afraid I made a substantial bet regarding that kiss and was hoping to get Clint back over Banner and Natasha."

Great, he'd died and entered a hell where the only thing he could do was stutter and flush crimson. Typical Parker luck, really.

"SurebyeMrandMrsMaximofflaterWade."

He slammed the phone back on its pedestal, dove into the leather couch and screamed until his throat ached.

--------

"Daddy? Peter, daddy's here! Don't let him go to our room until we're done with the Christmas card, please!" He yanked his head from under the cushions, scrambled to the door, tripped over Morgan's race car, narrowly avoided the destruction of Rocky's Lego chop shop, hastily stashed a pink apron in the drawers by the door, failed to straighten his sweater (a gift from the kids' grandmother) and took all of ten seconds to fix his hair before opening the door. In the exact moment the owner of the house leaned against it to enter.

There's a second where realization kicked in, worry is splashed over both their faces, he darted forward to help so the man's heart didn't shut down on them right then, said man wanted to preserve such a young, healthy body; they tried to control the damage.

They failed. Spectacularly. Crashed into each other, somehow elbows and knees sunk into bad spots, bone snapped, ligaments wept in pain, a chest became winded, one of them got a black eye and the other a constricted throat. This was, of course, before it started raining and two idiots got drenched while piled up on the front door.

Peter gasped, wasn't sure whether it was better to lie under his dream, his wet fantasy, his goal in life or allow his brain some oxygen.

To be fair, this would only happen the once. He could breathe for the rest of his lonely life.

"Uh, welcome home, Mr Stark. How was work to, today, sir, that's not my thigh." Wade would know. Jesus, Wade would find out Mr Stark touched his dick for the first time and it wasn't even on purpose.

"Kid, I'm so sorry. Here I was wondering if I could give you your Christmas gift without ruining the box and now look at me. Peter, you don't have to come back to work if you don't want to-"

"Wait, you got me a gift, Mr Stark?"

"I will pay you for this whole month, obviously." The man shuffled back, attempted to shakily stand up like a foal and immediately slid down onto the sleek young man.

"Not come back to? Mr, ow, Tony, I'm not going anywhere. Not on Christmas, not ever. Look at me." Don't look at what's between my legs, Peter prayed, don't look at how you are between my legs, don't look.

Tony Stark glanced down, inhaled sharply and snapped his gaze to the au pair's. He may have leaned against what he hoped was his Christmas gift. Maybe.

"I'm not leaving, Mr Stark." The rain kept drizzling into the house, his throat continued to ache, the distance between their two bodies remained the same. But there was something in Mr Stark's eyes now, yes indeed, something Peter had resolutely ignored for the past six months while working with the sweetest family he'd ever known. It was the same something Wade yelled about when talking about his best friend's employer's face as it regarded the au pair.

"I think Wade might kill me if -"

"Rhode's is gonna choke me out if-"

"Are you two gonna kiss or not?"

They risked whiplash to peer right at, or, in Peter's position, upside down at Morgan and Rocky who unflinchingly stared at the ridiculous site their fathers made. Rocky even shook his head the way Tony did when he was disappointed. Little Morgan criss crossed her arms and Peter thought he'd sob because that's just how he taught her.

"We were going to put mistletoe on the door when you came in; we finished the holiday card months ago so that was the one thing left on the to do list."

"Months ago? I helped you two make one last week!"

"Oh yeah, how were you going to hang up mistletoe, daughter mine? There's no nail." A soft thwump over the doorway. It seemed Clint had given Morgan her own bow. And she knew how to use it.

They collected their courage, scraps of reduced pride, some drool and a tiny drop of sweat before turning to the man they'd been waiting for for so long.

"Mr Parker, will you do me the honor of bestowing a kiss upon an old man with creaking bones and heating hair?"

Oh. Oh, this was happening.

"I love your hair and I'll get you a walker that has a cup holder for water and a few pain pills. Mr Stark, will you kiss a kid from Queens who's so into you the red devil of Cliffwood himself doesn't dare sleep with either of us and get in the way?"

"Well, first of all. A walker, really, am I that old. Second, nice call on the pain pills, very good save on the hair. And please. He'd never get in the way of us two-"

"Great, are you gonna kiss me?"

"Why, Mr Parker. Don't mind if I do." It was a soft statement he would otherwise confuse as a plea.

"Fucking finally." That was a bit more of a pained gasp instead of a sigh of relief, but Morgan and Rocky were doing enough sighing for the both of them afterwards.

Afterwards though, when the blood is finally distributed to the right places

"Yeah, I think I broke my wrist and you should get that throat checked. I'll get the car."

"Tony, it's the fifties. I can get the car while you call Bucky to look over the kids. Anyone talks to me and they'll think you had something to do with my throat."

"That is a fantastic idea, sweetheart. Save it for later, maybe raincheck?"

"Get the car, Tony."

"Yep. Come on, you rascals. Help an old man out."

----------

Wade can't look at Tony without howling, mutters something about a limp wrist while Vanessa sighs and apologizes, compliments Peter on surviving life with a ridiculous best friend by his side. He says it's ok. Wade's his go to guy for whenever Peter has to get his head in the game and his lips on Tony's.

[redhoodedwolf]

A Week-ish of Sterek Fics

Hello all! So I recently accidentally fell back into my AO3 bookmarks and have fallen down a rabbit (fox? eh?) hole that leaves me entirely unproductive and sleep deprived but full of feels, so I thought I’d share all of the fics that I’ve rerereread thus far in the last week (it’s over 75 guys) (since friday 😬). Each has the fic name and description, length, and year pub/finished because it makes me feel old. Also all of these are complete because I am weak and cannot handle WIPs. 

Note: I’m not adding any tags to the descriptions, so make sure to read the tags and ratings on each fic first before reading!!!

Teaching Derek How to Text (and Other Shenanigans) by neilwrites | 9K  | 2018

yo derek Who’s dying

---

I see your 'Derek doesn't have a phone' line and raise you 'Derek has a phone, he and Stiles text all the fucking time.'

The Hoodie by ladiekatie | 1.7K | 2017

“You shouldn’t be able to see me. What are you?” The guy in the hoodie says, the ball of energy grows hotter under Derek’s chin.

or the one where Derek is just trying to talk to the guy at the back of the subway.

Nothing You Could Say by SylvieW | 13K | 2016

Stiles’ second year of college is not working out as he planned. He rarely sees Scott, his job is exhausting, and to get home after his shift, he has to walk at three in the morning. Nearly getting mugged is the icing on the cake, but luckily a gruff stranger is there to rescue him. But now Stiles can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s not alone in the dark.

Old Traditions, Werewolf Edition by Footloose | 3.6K | 2014

Stiles does not work his Omega ass off to attract frat boy Alphas. Absolutely not. He's at college to get his degree. If he's crushing on an Alpha who never crosses the lines of propriety, well, no one needs to know, right?

Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MereLoup | 14K | 2016

“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.”

“Oh thank god!”

“Stiles?”

“I, uh, I need some advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?”

Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.”

“Stiles...what are you doing right now?”

***

Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work.

Partly because their visit was a complete surprise.

But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend.

Or even know who Derek was.

But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!

third time's the charm by stilinski | 4.9K | 2016

 Sure, Stiles has a mark on his chest that belies the depth of his feelings, but it's not something anyone can see unless he decides to show it, or unless werewolves suddenly have x-ray vision.

 Which—worrying. And probably-definitely-likely a possibility – if it was to manifest anywhere, Beacon Hills would be top of the list.

 Stiles almost turns around there and then to ask Scott how his visual acuity is but is stopped by the teenager at the register finally looking up long enough to spot Derek. Stiles watches her mouth fall open and her expression—studiously blank but with a faint flush rising in her cheeks—is one Stiles knows far too well, particularly when faced with Derek in all his snug-fitting-jeans, v-neck-wearing, canvas-jacketed glory.

 Stiles is pretty sure he invented that expression.

Ukochany by VincentMeoblinn| 34K | 2016

Derek comes home to find a mail order husband and two amused betas waiting for him. When he realizes their prank was far from harmless he ends up saddled with a husband who barely speaks English but insists Derek is the love of his life. He's also determined to win him over.

only if for a night by stilinskisparkles | 3.2K | 2016

“I’m Stiles,” he says breathlessly.

“Derek.”

“Derek, hi, do you—”

Derek doesn’t let him finish, kisses the words right out of his mouth.

Hypothetically by alisvolatpropiis | 6.6K | 2015

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning as the sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

sincerely, derek by stilinskisparkles | 8.1K | 2016

September, 2009

Hi Stiles, it’s Derek. Derek Hale, from space camp. I’m writing this in English because my teacher Ms Grady said I had to write about my summer, but I spent my summer with you, so I decided to write to you, instead.

Please write back. Love from Derek.

Pancakes and Murder by Amethyst Shard (AmethystShard) | 14K | 2012

Stiles' life has been a roller-coaster filled with awesome highs and terrifying drops ever since his best friend Scott got bit by a werewolf. The ride hits a bump when a dead body turns up at the Hale house (again) and Derek's only alibi is Stiles. Which would be fine, except that Stiles' dad is the sheriff and has no idea his son has been hanging out with the former fugitive. Awkward.

The Witching Hour by MellytheHun | 8.2K | 2016

The radio host AU no one ever asked for but I have written anyway because sometimes when DJ’s play several sad songs in a row, I worry about their mental health and then this AU was born

Derek Hale, The Hero Beacon Hills Needs (Series) by MellytheHun | 11K | 4 Works | 2016

This series started with this Tumblr prompt, "it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

Stiles is walking home when he's stalked by a dangerous stranger and an even more dangerous stranger comes to his rescue.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32K | 2013

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

You are the Moon by skoosiepants | 10K | 2012

Stuff Stiles doesn’t like to deal with first thing: hot, moist dog breath in his face, a cuddly werewolf creepifying his perfectly normal morning wood with shades of bestiality, and his dad holding his service revolver up against the skull of his bedmate, never mind the fact that his bedmate could possibly be a vicious unhinged rogue omega.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack | 9.5K | 2016

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

Don’t Be Anything But Okay by skoosiepants | 4.8K | 2016

“Oh my god.”

Ben pops open the car door and says, “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad.”

Stiles flaps a hand, still staring at the magnificent sight before him. There are glistening arm muscles and a sweaty tank top and then the vision bends over and holy god. He has to look away; it’s too much to take in all at once, he might swoon.

OR-

Stiles has a teenager and Derek has a plant nursery.

covalent bonds (Series) by HalfFizzbin | 9.2K | 3 Works | 2015

Derek's a hot nerd. Stiles is a nerdy jock. A LOVE STORY FOR THE AGES.

Disappear Here by AgnesBlue | 28K | 2016

Stiles was quiet. “What?” Derek said again. “My first heat is coming up soon,” Stiles said at last. Derek closed his eyes, disinterested. He knew where Stiles was going with this. “I was thinking…hoping, really,” Stiles said. “Maybe you could stay with me during that time.”

AU in which wounded in a fire that killed off his entire family, Derek wants nothing more than to be left alone as he finishes off his senior year in high school. That all changes when omega Stiles Stilinski asks him to help him through his first heat.

Money Isn't Everything by TroubleIWant | 6.3K | 2015

Stiles slurps at the dregs of his iced hazelnut latté, pretending he doesn’t need a refill just yet. Supporting your local business is great and all, but Isaac charging $5 for a coffee with syrup is highway robbery. He’s already cut his expenses down to the bare minimum, and splurging for foofy drinks is not in the budget. Except that he can’t really help himself: black coffee is plain gross. Maybe I should plan on marrying rich, he thinks darkly.

Or,

Stiles has a huge crush on the super-hot guy he always sees at Isaac's coffee shop, but when he finds out that they guy's an unemployed orphan he has to decide if the difference in their financial situations is a deal-breaker, or just a bump on the path to true love.

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock | 21K | 2014

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

you and me (and my best friend) by trilliastra | 1.5K | 2016

“Come on, I shouldn’t be the only one having orgasms. Let me help you out.”

“Uh –” someone clears their throat and Derek jumps, startled, hits his elbow on the wall and curses, “am I interrupting something?” Stiles asks, cheeks red.

Derek looks up, sighing. Of all the people working in this damn school, Stiles had to be the one to catch him and Erica talking about sex. It’s just Derek’s luck. He spills juice on his pants? Stiles walks into the classroom; Laura starts yelling at him about something that happened when they were kids? Stiles is right behind them, waiting for his coffee; Boyd accidentally throws a ball at his face? Stiles is at the E.R. when Derek gets there with a swollen face and a broken nose.

The universe hates him.

Easy Alpha by interropunct | 4.6K | 2012

Easy A/Teen Wolf AU. Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

Body Language by LadyMerlin | 2.3K | 2016

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates' name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn't have that kind of patience.

chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi by pr1nc3ssp34ch (dallisons) | 13K | 2013

Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it operates. He's not quite an expert or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.

So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking transfer students?

And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?

C’était Salement Romantique by Swing Set in December (swing_set13) | 2.2K | 2015

The Triwizard tournament is really about fostering wizarding relations. Ask anyone. Just not Stiles, he’s busy French kissing Derek.

Hogwarts really should teach some linguistic classes.

The Long Way Home by MyChemicalRachel | 19K | 2016

Stiles didn’t plan to sleep with his best friend’s dad. It just kind of happened. And then it happened again. And again. And again…

All that once was, remains. by countrygirlsfun | 8.8K | 2016

Life is only a long list of constants.

Being a part of a royal family, being a prince, has been a constant in Derek Hale’s life since he was born and swaddled in silk cloths.

Wherein Derek finds himself in love with a stable boy who is more than he seems.

Driver's Education by arrowofcarnations | 9.2K | 2014

This is the moment he realizes he can never have Derek Hale – that he was stupid to ever think he could. Maybe their moms made them hang out when they were little and maybe they’ve managed to get along these past few weeks, but they’re too different. Derek’s cool, he plays a million sports, he drives a Camaro, he’s friends with Jackson. Stiles doesn’t fit into the equation and he never will.

Letters by ericaismeg | 8.9K | 2014

“Stiles, this is getting ridiculous. Can you please do something about it?” Lydia demands. “Do anything. I don’t care. Go up and kiss him, ask him to prom this year, write him secret admirer love letters, whatever. Just do something.”

***

OR: The one where Lydia sets up an email account for Stiles to "confess his love" for Derek. And as fate would have it, they also end up becoming friends in person at the same time.

We're One of a Kind (Like Dip Da Dip Da Dip Do Whap De Dobby Do) by orphan_account | 3.5K | 2012

Derek is your classic greaser—with a leather jacket, a hot rod, a hot bike, and a duck butt. Genim “Stiles” Stilinski a total fream—he’s too cool to be a poindexter but he’s so far from a cat that Derek almost feels bad for him. All that’s missing in this love story is some oddly perfectly timed musical numbers.

do it for our country  by HalfFizzbin | 936 | 2012

In which Derek tries to play it cool but Stiles is totally hep to his jive.

Fast Times At Clairemont High by MonsieurBlueSky (MyChemicalRachel) | 6.9K | 2016

Stiles is stoked when he's chosen for an undercover operation to take down a drug ring. He's less stoked when he discovers that he'll be posing as a seventeen year old student at the High School where Derek teaches.

It's Too Early For This by thepsychicclam | 4.9K | 2016

Derek loves his job at the coffee shop, especially because Stiles comes in for coffee before early Saturday morning lacrosse practices. The problem is that Derek is too shy to do anything about his crush, and the situation is not helped by the rivalry between the basketball and lacrosse teams.

A Tentative Truce by Inell | 8.5K | 2016

Stiles and Derek have a long standing rivalry that has extended beyond the Beacon Hills High School theater department to every other area of their high school lives. With the announcement of the winter production, their competitiveness has to be set to the side so the musical can be successful. With a tentative truce in place, Stiles unable to ignore his growing infatuation for his co-star.

we keep living anyway by bistiles (alis) | 10K | 2015

“Oh, damn, my manners. What an example I’m setting, am I right? I’m Stiles Stilinski, but call me Stiles, please,” Stilinski extended his hand for Derek to shake, and Derek took it, feeling the solid grip and the long fingers around his own hand. For some reason, he blushed on the spot.

“Derek. Derek Hale. Call me just Derek,” He answered, still holding Stiles’ hand in his.

By the look on Stiles’ face, he felt much the same as what Derek was feeling, whatever that unnamed reaction was.

“And this little barnacle attached to me,” Stiles continued, letting go of Derek and flushing pink, “is Leigh.”

--

Stiles is struggling to raise his only child all alone, while dealing with financial problems, a new job, and Adrian Harris, the worst boss in the world.

But then he meets Derek Hale, a dreamy co-workers, and what is a terrible situation becomes considerably less grim, when he has Derek by his side.

Don't Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K | 2015

Stiles doesn't care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School's resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one's judgment.

However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).

But you know what they say...never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.

sometimes fate is like a small snowstorm by thepsychicclam | 8.1K | 2014

In a coffee shop two days before Christmas, Derek meets Stiles. Despite neither of them being interested in relationships, they spend an unforgettable evening together, but then part ways. During the following years, Stiles competes in the Olympics, Derek tours the world - and neither of them forget. Then twelve years later, two days before Christmas, Derek finds Stiles in that same coffee shop.

aka a kinda sorta serendipity au

should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach by bleep0bleep | 4.3K | 2015

If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say that look in Derek's eyes is adoring, but he does know better, and also amnesiac Derek thinks they’re married. Which is the only fact he hasn’t questioned so far, which is the weirdest thing.

Just High School by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 4.5K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been dating for some time.

The only thing is, nobody else really knows.

Tis The Season Baristas Fear The Most by stilinskisparkles | 5.4K | 2012

Scott is hands down the worst barista Derek has ever hired. But it's Christmas and apparently that means something to some people.

Mind Reading Can Be Such a Pain in the A** (Series) by Fanhag102 | 21K | 2 Works | 2015

Derek Hale can read minds. If he could have chosen a mutant power for himself instead of being given one by random, genetic happenstance it's safe to say mind-reading would not have been his 1st, 2nd, or even 96th choice.

Maybe if he'd gotten the power of invisibility he wouldn't be sitting in a senior Economics class next to a hyperactive kid with a buzz cut who won’t stop thinking about dicks.

A Criminal and His Lucky Charm by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 5.9K | 2015

Please forgive yourself.

For what?

For allowing yourself to let someone in. For letting me love you. I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t your fault. Derek, please, just do it. Please— please don’t drag this out.

Derek Hale valued Stiles above everyone—everything. And Stiles betrayed that. In the end, he figured if he had to die, dying in Derek’s arms wasn’t so bad. He could at least have that.

the things you said when we were the happiest we’ve ever been by foxerica (ericaismeg) | 4.8K | 2015

Derek and Stiles meet again at their high school reunion.

From Dirty Paws by Surreal | 9.9K | 2014

Stiles finds a wolf in the woods. Well, it's more like the wolf finds him. Either way, he's happy to have a new friend in his otherwise boring social circle.

flawless by bibliosexual | 4.9K | 2015

“I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18K | 2015

He doesn’t belong here.

It’s the first thought that crosses Derek’s mind as he watches the new inmates spill into the cafeteria. The kid stays close to the wall, eyes scanning all the exits and skimming over the tables. If he’s trying to get a barring for his surroundings he’s doing a shit job of it, something made completely evident as Lewis shoulders him from behind and the kid almost jumps to flatten himself against the wall.

Or

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek's prison. He really didn't expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

Baseball Pants by thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven) | 2.8K | 2015

Scott shows Stiles a picture of the new pitcher for the Dodgers, and Stiles is suddenly an avid Dodgers fan.

While You Were(n't Quite) Sleeping by mikkimouse | 13K | 2015

Scott’s mom, Melissa, had given Stiles the basics on Derek’s condition when he’d first come over here a month ago. Derek had been here six years, the only survivor of a horrific house fire that had killed the rest of his family. It had left him burned, half his face puckered with scars, and he’d been in a catatonic state the entire time. Stiles couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful that would be, being trapped in your own body for years on end, all alone.

Stiles had an inkling of how much being alone sucked, anyway.

(An AU in which Derek is the one who was trapped in the fire, and then in the hospital, based on a set of pictures from littlecofiegirl.)

dhale25 by ericaismeg | 8.1K | 2014

Derek Hale is an actor in Los Angeles, Stiles is a fanboy in Toronto. When Derek posts his Snap Chat username on Twitter, inviting people to add him, Stiles gets brave and adds him.

They develop a snapping relationship, and it gets intense.

I Settle for Long Distance Calls by iamursforevrmre | 4.3K | 2014

Derek is the guy who Stiles met on some random band page on MySpace because Derek made a ridiculously hilarious comment and with a spurt of confidence, Stiles had messaged him to tell him just how hilarious it was and they got to talking. Derek is the guy that made a FaceBook account just to talk to Stiles on the messenger so they could talk more when MySpace was slowly dying out. Derek is the guy that changed his text message plan to unlimited when he finally sent Stiles his cell phone number. Derek is the guy that has been on the phone with Stiles at any and all hours through the day.

And Derek is the guy that Stiles is in love with.

You look like my next mistake by Vendelin | 15K | 2015

“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes.

His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to.

In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.

Coaches Cupcake Coffee House by ChildOfTheRevolution | 4.8K | 2013

Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.

‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.

‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding out Derek Hotcakes wants to bone him three ways to Sunday.

Gladiator AU ( Series) by HaleHole (SweetFanfics) | 9.9K | 2 Works | 2013

He looks up at the door and waits. He hopes that whoever it is, they will be go easy on him. Werewolf he might be, with superhuman healing, but that does not mean that he will not be sore the next day. And he is scheduled for a fight.

Let it be someone easy to please, Derek hopes. Someone who will be quick to take their pleasure and even quicker to leave. He keeps hoping this as the door is pushed open. A voice murmurs a quick set of instructions to whoever has hired him for this session. It is cut off half way through by a familiar, impatient voice that makes Derek strain against his bonds. -- Rome based, Gladiator AU

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35K | 2013

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. 

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding: 

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Theory of Overprotective Canines by rosepetals42 | 11K | 2015

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Hot for Teacher('s Aide) by linksofmemories_archive | 8K | 2013

“He invited you to his apartment.”

“To do a lesson plan.”

“Yeah and to probably lesson your plan while you’re there,” Scott said, waggling his eyebrows.

“That made no sense, but you still managed to make it sound dirty,” Stiles said. “I’m impressed.”

The healing touch by devilscut | 96K | 2015

Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can't use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek's selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.

Quit Dragon Me Around (Seies) by WonderWolf | 17K | 3 Works | 2015

Stiles makes the mistake of taking Derek’s sword and now the grumpy werewolf seems determined to stop him from stealing and landing himself in jail.

Stiles is not pleased. He’s also starving.

(Or the one in which Derek has good intentions, but little understanding of how Dragon biology works. He just wants the cute mole-speckled kid to be safe). -----

“Five meals, Scott. Derek Hale has stopped me from eating five meals. I can’t believe he’s really trying to kill me over stealing his sword. That’s so petty of him. It isn’t like I meant to steal it,” Stiles complains.

“You kind of did mean to, dude,” Scott adds unhelpfully.

“But you don’t understand, Scott. It-”

“Just smelled so good? I know, you’ve said that like fifty times over the past two weeks,” Scott says.

“This is the equivalent of him stealing my lunch money, right? Thanks to him, I didn’t have a meal this week. Or last week! He’s a bully, is what he is. A nice smelling, douchebag of a bully.”

You'll See Me Again by matildajones | 10K | 2015

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

--

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn't seem to care that Derek's a prince or that he's a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it's not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

Thousand by ericaismeg | 4.2K | 2014

“Seriously, Erica, I could tell him a thousand times in a thousand ways and he's never going to understand what I mean.”

“I thought I told you to spell it out to him,” Erica says. “Derek's has trust issues. I told you this would be difficult.”

Stop Crossing Oceans by greenleaf | 11K | 2015

“There are no absolutes, Scott! No hard rights or hard wrongs! The world doesn’t fucking work that way and we can’t afford to think like that, because people are going to die! We signed up for that the moment we got involved with all this!”

“We? We?” Scott hisses. “Don’t you think you? Don’t forget that you’re the one who dragged us into that forest the night it all started, Stiles. So if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

Something inside Stiles cracks, so strong and so deep that he practically hears it.

The Wolf that whispered into Stiles' Heart by ElStark | 9.9K | 2015

Basically the Union of the prompts:

Mute!Stiles + Wolf!Derek + Soulmates/Mates AU

~

“Don’t you have a pack?” Stiles asks him –by then he had discovered that the wolf was in fact a male wolf –“I mean, wolves move in packs, right? Lone wolves don’t make it on their own. I read it yesterday.” He says while they’re both sprawled on the fallen leaves in Stiles’ secret-thinking spot in the woods. Derek licks his face, and Stiles laughs. “Is that your way to tell me that I’m your pack?” Derek licks him again on the nose, making the boy’s face scrunch up, “Ugh. Gross, dude!” he wipes his drool covered face with his sleeve and then gives the wolf a pointed look, “I’m not a wolf, you should have noticed, you know, I don’t exactly have fur and I don’t growl and I don’t have glowing eyes…” He says leaning in to look them closer, “Are you even supposed to have those kind of eyes? I couldn’t find anything about wolves and glowing eyes on the internet..” The wolf snorts.

Aftermath by GhostwithShotgun | 11K | 2015

Stiles suffers from PTSD and insomnia after the events with the nogitsune. He has nightmares, gets at most one hour of sleep every night and has daily panic attacks. He tries his best to hide it because they all have their own troubles and he doesn't want to burden his friends further.

Meanwhile, Derek has made a habit out of checking all pack members every night to make sure they're alright.

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit | 18K | 2015

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

--

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

It's a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33K | 2015

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

Bad Dog Bakery and Café by Boom | 27K | 2015

Stiles saves an Omega from wolfsbane poisoning. Said Omega now won't leave Stiles alone. Stiles doesn't really have a problem with this.

Beat The Blues by lilpeas | 2.9K | 2015

Derek and Stiles have been childhood friends since the sandpit. When Talia realises Stiles is in love with Derek, she knows Derek has to stop seeing him: Derek’s a werewolf and Stiles is human. It can’t be.

But things never go according to plan.

Red Light's Already Off by orphan_account | 3.3K | 2015

Stiles isn't a hooker. He just plays one on TV.

Noteworthy Observations by LadyDrace | 3.7K | 2015

In which Derek recieves complimentary notes in his locker from a secret admirer, and though it turns out they weren't actually for him, things turn out pretty well in the end.

One Hale of a Sandwich by whatthehale | 10K | 2014

Stiles in bed isn’t really something Derek should be thinking about.

Ever.

Because the person who normally picks Lily up from school? Is Scott.

Lily’s other parent. And Stiles’s partner.

Not to mention the entire source of Derek’s current misery.

--

AKA, the one in which Derek thinks Scott and Stiles are in a relationship and that they want to threesome with Derek. Spoiler Alert? They aren't and they don't.

Choice by Omni | 8.6K | 2015

Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it's like to be manipulated. He'd never take away someone's right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings.

Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can't.

(Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | 13K | 2012

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

gave your smile to me by Sarageek16 | 4.7K | 2013

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.  

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system  time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good  MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿  if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 50: Snape's Grudge

Sirius at once lost his feet upon landing and face planted a puddle of foul smelling green sludge. No matter how much he tried to spit it out and wipe his face clean, the mess clung to him. By the time he'd at least cleared it away from his eyes and mouth, he got himself onto all fours and looked around to see what should have been a familiar site.

He was on the very outskirts of Hogsmeade, a place he and his friends frequented far more than the others of Hogwarts and possibly even the villagers themselves. He'd spent more times having adventures in every nook and cranny of this place than even doing homework, if one could believe it. This particular spot, and what it looked down on, meant more to them than words could express. The Shrieking Shack stood in the distance, the measly fence guarding it off, the sheer drop and magic bordering one from going inside through any of the blocked off windows or available door were quite powerful to one who didn't know what they were doing. There was melting snow upon the ground and puddles of mud every few adjacent feet, perfect for a prank to pull or vanish at a moments notice.

His friends were the ones he was having trouble recognizing.

They had not landed near each other at all, but each held the same expression of shock that was quickly growing into something Sirius had no desire to look at. His breaths were coming out in short, sharp little panting gasps, as if he'd broken a rib. He wished the Devil's Snare were strangling him again, or even better, a venomous tentacula. He'd rather be back in a dragon's cave than fight his blurry vision and see what he knew would be there on his real family.

"Sirius, you daft idiot, how is eating mud any solution to this?" Then there was a warm hand thumping him on the back, a kind voice affectionately telling him to stop being stupid, and James' hand hovering in front of his face.

"How the hell are you lot still," words wavered off, Sirius didn't know how any of them could stand to be around him after what they'd just heard. That didn't stop him from clinging to this while he could, taking Prong's hand and only staggering for a few moments before his feet steadied beneath him.

"I don't know what to make of the madness of this future," James brutally told him, expression defensive as he scanned around for the book, but he gave Sirius' hand a reassuring squeeze before dropping it. "I do know it hasn't happened yet though, so would you stop panicking about it every other second please?"

Sirius spat out one last glop of mud and still gave a slight grin. "Yeah, I'll try."

"If you manage it, Moony will owe me three galleons," Peter smirked. "We've a running bet you can't go longer than three days without freaking out over something."

"Define freaking out," Sirius huffed with an exaggerated pout.

"Shouting and your general presence are the commonly accepted terms," Remus shrugged. "He almost won last year actually, until you found out it was Wormtail who ate your Potions homework and our deer friend graciously played partisan and gave me the win."

"Aha!" Said Marauder had wandered off from their babble and managed to spot the book resting in a nearby tree. He scaled it the Muggle way for the onlookers.

"I will never understand those four," Lily muttered, shielding her eyes from the sun and waiting for Potter to fall from the tree any second. Maybe he'd land on his fat head and deflate it a bit. "They really can laugh off anything, even attempted murder on each other."

"The kind of friendship we should all aspire for," Alice shrugged.

Lily flushed slightly in unease, thinking if rolls had been twisted slightly and Sev had ever done anything of this scale to her, she couldn't forgive such a thing. The way he was acting now was inexcusable, and the chapter title Potter declared only promised things weren't going to get much better.

Regulus listened to the school in controlled chaos because of his brother and couldn't decide who he was more impressed with, the Sirius of the future getting in and out of that place undetected after a debauched murder attempt of his best friends kid, or his idiot brother smiling along at the events now. Chest out, hair swept over his shoulder, pride rolling off of him in waves for managing such a stupid move. Would they still be acting like this if that was the end of the story? If Sirius had really killed Potter's kid, would they all go back home and pretend none of it had ever happened?

He wondered, not for the first time, just what their most recent fight had been about. Something equally as bad as nearly getting an innocent killed? How many times would Sirius get away with this before his friends cast him out? Regulus knew, even if Sirius had done all those horrible crimes, at least he'd still forgive his brother. He never did anything without a good reason, and was continuously amazed the three he called his brothers seemed to feel the same. Would his friends do the same if he suddenly told them he was having questions about their future plans?

Frank listened intently to the kids interpretation of why they thought Black hadn't murdered Harry when he had the chance, and didn't take to the idea. If he was mad enough to be breaking into this school at all to exact these plans, surely his way out wasn't on his mind, just the murder itself. So either Sirius wasn't as mad as everyone was saying in this future, or they were still missing something.

He forgot everything else when he heard his poor son was in the most trouble for all this. His indignation at McGonagall's treatment of him grew with his fury, he had half a mind to get up to that castle and tell her off for this the second they got back. As if he was the first child to lose a password or let another student into the dorm, he shouldn't be punished for Black's doings!

When Hagrid's note arrived and they went to visit him, Alice huffed impatiently at those two forgetting about Buckbeak as much as they seemed to everything that wasn't a Firebolt lately. Just because it wasn't their responsibility didn't negate they'd offered to help. She was glad they had Hagrid in their lives all the more when he straightened them out about how they'd been treating Hermione, someone needed to tell them that sooner rather than later.

Hermione threatening to turn around and tell McGonagall about Harry's new found map wasn't garnering much sympathy though.

"What a snobby little brat!" Sirius huffed. "Can you believe this is the same kid who brewed an illegal potion last year."

"She's trying to keep her friend safe," Remus shrugged in some defense. "She's not going about it the right way, but I give her credit for trying." He didn't seem to have convinced any of his friends, but they were also the ones who ran around with a werewolf once a month. Safety wasn't often their first concern.

Alice and Frank were all the more unsympathetic to Harry's wanting to sneak out here again by trying to ditch Neville to do it. It was obvious their son was wanting a friend to be around and Harry was only thinking about what he wanted, couldn't he at least invite Neville along? He wouldn't be like Hermione and go tattling his first chance, of that they were sure.

James at least got some enjoyment of Harry's time through Hogsmeade now, especially his trip inside Zonko's. Then his son ended up here, on this very spot, and he looked around with fondness as he tried to imagine the scene. Him and a red haired kid instead just having a laugh, or him and a son who looked so much like him but with Lily's eyes as he told of the grand adventures and tails of the Marauders. He glanced at Lily and saw she was merely ignoring them, playing with her hair in agitation and clearly wishing he wasn't out there at all. He sighed and wondered what it would take for her to start daydreaming the same.

Then Malfoy arrived, and while his friends began muttering in frustration for that prat ruining their spot by his mere presence, James had the kind of grin that automatically had Lily narrowing her eyes at him once more for whatever nasty prank he was thinking.

She didn't have to wait long as Potter described the following fight with glee, along with Harry's invisible revenge. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and went as far away from them all as she could, beyond words this child kept resembling his father, always trying to solve every argument with underhanded tactics. She only listened with vague interest as Harry went off same as Malfoy for the castle and was still left wondering how Snape and a grudge of his would be involved even as he appeared and dragged Harry off to his office.

He belittle and accused him, but that was nothing unusual. He even brought up the same thing Dumbledore once had in his own light, about Potter supposedly saving his life, but now sharing more it had been some prank gone wrong. Her eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed suspiciously when exactly this had happened. Surely it wasn't the exact same instance Snape had told her about only last month.

It wasn't until Lupin was called in that she got her first hint of what was coming. She knew Snape's suspicions about him and what the Marauders got up to and still laughed at Sev's crazy ideas, but his reaction to the same man now full grown almost made her want to laugh. If this was the grudge being referred to, it really was a bit pathetic he couldn't let an old schoolboy resentment slide for a fellow college. Lupin was acting the same in this future as he did now really, avoiding everyone given the chance, why did Sev care so much?

She wasn't getting an answer as Lupin talked Snape out of any punishment, but then proceeded to berate Harry himself.

Lily watched from afar as the Marauders shifted with further unease as one of their own invoked Potter's name. Seemed she wasn't the only one unhappy with the way their future friends were acting.

Hermione ended the chapter with the gory announcement Buckbeak's death had been sentenced. If only that were the worst thing going on right now.