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readychilledwine · 6 months

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hi, would it he okay to request one where it’s reader x azriel and they’ve been struggling with fertility/getting pregnant. And after a while reader finds out she’s not only pregnant but with triplets😭😭 and they’re all crying happy tears together sith the ic and celebrate😭😍

I was struggling with fertility and finally got pregnant after so long and I couldn’t be happier, so seeing dad az would be so amazing, but I read ur latest post so if it’s a lot then please feel free to ignore ❤️❤️

No. This is perfect. I can do this. 💙💙

Azriel Week Day 6 Prompt - Past and Future - Threefold

Summary - After years of trying and unsuccessful attempts, you and Azriel finally receive everything you've asked and prayed for threefold.

Warnings - high-risk pregnancy, labor (nothing graphic), babies, illusions to miscarriages, inferred toll of pregnancy on mental health (its hard.)

A/n - this fit too perfectly for @azrielappreciationweek dad Az is my favorite to write as a father simply because his inner child deserves to heal 💜

Madja and Rhys held your upper body as another bout of sickness ripped through your stomach. You hadn't felt right for several days now. You were exhausted and irritable, and lately, nothing has stayed down.

Rhys pulled your hair back, rubbing small circles into your back. "I can call for Azriel, y/n," he offered again. "He's only doing some follow up things in Windhaven. There are no new issues."

Madja looked at the High Lord. Calling for him silently in her mind. It was clear to the healer what was going on, and she wanted you on bed arrest immediately. You and Azriel had been trying and struggling to have a babe for years. She inclined her head to Rhys, motioning for him to follow her.

"She's pregnant," she boldly said. "The scent is faint, meaning it's early, but her morning sickness indicates multiples." Rhysand's face fell, joy, happiness, fear, sadness all washing over him. You and Azriel were the last of the circle without children.

He and Feyre had 4, Cassian and Nesta had 2, Lucien and Elain had 2. Even Mor and Armen had adopted children. But you and Azriel? You had been trying for years now, and unsuccessful attempt after attempt had led to you two in long fights, heartache, and emotional turmoil.

"Were they even trying?"

Madja nodded at the question. "We tried one last alternative method. It was very painful for her. That's why I need you to command her to bedrest, Rhysand. For them."

The High Lord reentered the bathroom, gently picking you up after you finished brushing your teeth and began the pathway to your room. "You're done working for today. I'm calling for Azriel." Madja opened the door for him, watching as he gently set you down on the soft sheets and blankets you had already started subconsciously nesting with. "You will not leave this bed unless one of us is here with you."

The Riverhouse set food and water on the table, indicatine needed you needed to eat. "Madja, what's going on?"

The old healer looked at you. "I'll be able to give you a better answer once Azriel is here and I examine you."

Azriel flew hard. Not wanting to be away a single second longer after Rhysand's urgent message. He landed with a thud, and instantly went into Rhysand's office where he and Cassian sat in silence. "Where is she? What's wrong?"

Rhys motioned for him to sit and Cassian handed him the whiskey he was nursing. Rhys sighed, "She's pregnant. Madja thinks there's multiple. You're both done. You will distribute your missions until further notice and stay with your mate." Rhys paused as Azriel threw back the expensive whiskey. "Madja is with her and waiting for you for the exam."

You were laid back, Azriel holding your soft hand in his scarred ones near his mouth as he kissed each knuckle. Madja was glowing, hands over your abdomen. You watched her mouth twitch and Rhysand stop pacing in the corner before he started to just laugh. "You are indeed pregnant, my dear. With three healthy developing children. Maybe 6 weeks." Azriel's face fell first, looking at Rhysand in panic. "I will leave you two with your High Lord. He is aware of my opinion given your history." Madja left the from gracefully, a firm smile cemented on her face as she walked into the hallway where the Inner Circle waited.

Rhysand moved to the foot of the bed, leaned on the post as he looked between you and Azriel. "You're on bed rest. You will not leave this bed or go anywhere alone. No training. No long walks. No long trips into town. We," he motioned between himself and Azriel, "will set the nursery. You, my dearest y/n, will no longer lift a damn finger." Azriel had not moved, his eyes locked on you. Rhys took the silent message, leaving the room as Azriel moved onto the bed with you, his mouth immediately on yours as that dam broke and tears began to fall.

"3?" He asked in shock, a hand going to your stomach. "And 6 weeks? You're already to where-"

"I know," you interrupted softly. "If we can make it 2 more weeks, it'll be the furthest we've made it." Azriel's hand tilted your head to his, and he kissed you softly.

Azriel paused. "Rhys is asking Madja if she'd be willing to stay here with her own chambers. They're also all setting up a rotation to ensure one of them is always with us."

You nodded, hand going over his to rest on your stomach. "3."

"3," he whispered back.

6 weeks passed without complications. At, 12 weeks and you were halfway to that safe period Madja had promised. The healer had her hand over your stomach, glowing in her magic and happiness.

"Such healthy little heartbeats." You felt Azriel's body language relax and his hand gently squeeze yours. "Everything looks very healthy so far. I will not lift the bedrest, though."

You looked at Azriel, silently pleading for him to advocate for you and were met with a soft apologetic gaze. "No," he commanded softly. "You stay here. I stay here. We stay here." House arrest, bed rest, that was the only issue so far. You were used to your work, to running daily, to anything but this. Madja left with a small smile as Azriel whispered thank you, and you began to cry. "I know, my love-"

"No you don't. You do not know what it's like to be trapped here. I can't even go outside without Rhys or Cassian appearing out of fucking no where. I miss the sun, the grass." You took a deep breath. "I am confined to this house and it's many walls for the well being of our babies. I understand that, but what about my well being, Azriel? What about my mental health?"

Azriel looked down, your normally selfless mate. "I'm sorry, y/n, but until I know something as simple as laying in the sun won't hurt them, I will support you being in the home, maintaining low stress levels. I will see if I can find a compromise. Perhaps an atrium? I know you've always wanted one."

You woke up to that the very next day, Azriel, Rhys, Lucien, and Cassian were all shirtless with other workers. A room facing your favorite garden had been wrecked, the furniture all moved. They had started at sunrise and at nightfall it stopped. Between magic, skills, and your husband refusing a break, you had a skylit atrium. Rhysand moved to you, covered in dirt and sweat, tilting your chin to place a small kiss on your temple, then Cassian, then Lucien, the last leaving his hand ok your already large stomach for a little while with a happy smile.

Azriel was moving the furniture back, shadows assisting every step of the way. He finally entered the room, lifting you gently from the chair you were reading in, and placing you in the lounging couch he had moved into the full glass room.

"Az-"

"I love you," he interrupted. "And I'm sorry you're having to make this sacrifice for us and our family, but please know I love you. Please know I am just worried. We've lost so much, too many already. Please, y/n, meet me here. Let this be our common ground until Madja says otherwise."

You had no choice but to nod, eyes locked on the beautiful night sky you had not seen in what felt like months. "I'm hungry." Azriel smiled at the statement. His eyes lit up as he felt your gentle caving down the bond. "Could you perhaps bathe and feed me? Maybe out here?" Azriel nodded, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Before you blinked, your third trimester was half way over, and suddenly bedrest was all you could think about. You were uncomfortable, large, constantly feeling as if the babes were using you as a personal playground. You and the Twins were in the kitchen when it happened, tight pain shot through your stomach and wetness came, your hand flew to Cerridwen and she supported you immediately, screaming for Madja as she moved you to sit.

The next several hours blurred together. Rhysand appearing and having Cassian help him carry you to a tub per Madja's request. Him holding your mind as he apologized over and over.

It made sense that this was happening now. The one time there was a mission that required Azriel. The one time he was in the Mortal Lands, having to spy on the Queen furthest from your home. Rhysand held your hand through the process, Cassian helping support your body as every inch of you felt like giving up and going out.

Until that first scream came. That first wail of life. That first tiny little body handled to one of the twins, small perfect wings intact. "Push, y/n," Rhys whispered softly. "They need their siblings." It could have been but moments, possibly hours. You didn't know. But a second cry came followed by the door slamming open and Azriel running to your side, allowing Rhysand to move and help with the babes.

"I'm so sorry," you kept saying, guilt hitting you at his bittersweet joy of missing two of the babes being born. "I-"

"It's okay. I'm here for this one." Azriel kissed your temple. "Two have wings, my love. You are doing so well."

The third cry came soon after, your body wanting to be done before finally giving out as Azriel and Cassian waited for Madja to heal you the best she could. She nodded and they removed you from the tub, body absolute done as you rested in Azriel's chest.

Cassian had gone to the babes, his excitement too heavy. Soon the whole Inner Circle and Nyx sat in the room, waiting for Madja to begin the announcements. She walked one of the babies to you, "First Born, winged, healthy weight for a triplet. Boy." Azriel stilled, his grip on your hand tightening.

Rhys walked the second over, a familiar soft look in his eyes, "Second born, winged, also healthy and hungry. Boy."

Cassian was sobbing holding his little bundle, looking at Azriel and then nodding. Your mate's dam broke, handing you the two sons instantly and reaching for the baby Cassian had. "Third born. Wingless for now, we all know that won't be the case forever, though. A little smaller than Madja would like. Girl."

Azriel held her close, his eyes locked on her perfect little face as tears fell. "You promised," he reminded you gently. You were too busy, admiring your boys to even respond. They were holding hands, both searching for their sister. "Y/n."

You broke your stare, brows knit in confusion. "They're your lineage, Azriel. You know you have last say in their names." Madja and the Inner Circle now stood closer as Azriel studied the babes one by one, never letting go of his daughter.

"Ophelia," he handed her gently to you. "After my mother." He took one of the boys, stroking his little cheek softly. He was holding the second born, who was wearing a serious pout. The was the largest of the three, little wings trying to stretch already on his back. "Ramiel. Because I have a gut feeling." Nyx laughed gently, silently asking to take his cousin and get him situated for a bottle. Azriel gave him to his nephew, a look of warning on his face. He took the oldest, who immediately took a scarred finger into his tiny hands. "Opinions, love," he asked you before realizing you were feeding your daughter. "She just decided to latch on there, huh?"

"Pretty much," you looked at your oldest son, the second smallest. Face all smiles. "Arnan," you looked to Armen. "After his aunt who found the method that brought them into the world." She was at Azriel's side immediately, taking the babe from him without him even putting up a fight.

*3 months later*

You and Azriel sat in the nursery. The boys in his arms, feeding softly from bottles, your daughter in yours breastfeeding. Figuring out a schedule to ensure all of them breastfed once or twice a day had been difficult but the routine was easy now. Ophelia slept best through the night after skin to skin and breastfeeding. Arnan was less fussy in the mornings when his breakfast came directly from you. Ramiel napped better after an afternoon breast feeding. "They're holding their heads up so well," Azriel cooed. "My strong boys." He was a male obsessed and in love. He was frequently out your shared bed at night, and you'd find him, sleeping with all three of them on his broad bare chest in the nursery. He was the perfect father despite not having an example of how to be one.

"I think our sweet girl will get there soon," you kept watch on her, holding her little hand as she reached for you. "We're just a Danity little thing, though so Heaven forbid daddy has to carry and coddle us more." You teased them both as Azriel's jaw dropped.

"I can't help it, love. Look at her, look at those eyes, that nose, her little smile. I'll carry her to Spring and back by foot." He stood, burping both of the boys and laid them in their cribs before coming to sit in front of his girl. "I want her when you're done."

"You say that until they poop."

"They're so warm and happy after breastfeedings, y/n." He watched as she unlatched by choice, reaching for her father's familiar voice and he took her. "And her belly is all full. And she's so happy. My little star. The perfect ending to our family's constellation." He walked her to her crib, continuing to coo her. "All of my little stars," he turned their mobiles on, watching as they all slowly shut their eyes and then walked to you.

He left the door open a crack, escorting you to your adjoining bedroom. Once inside he kissed you, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he did, and rested his forehead against yours. "I love you."

"I love you too. Let's go to bed. Please. They hardly napped at all today. Nyx got them that damn toy and I am still deciding if our nephew gets to live." Azriel laughed quietly, moving to the bed with a hand holding yours. "Perhaps tonight you could stay here."

He paused, staring at you as he pulled the blanket over you two. "I don't know what you're talking about." His cheeks were slightly flushed. "I always stay the night here."

You kissed his hand. "Of course you do, Azzie. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, y/n."

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azrielweek2023 #dad!azriel x reader

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yandere-sins · 7 months

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Crisis Averted - Part I [Genshin Spoilers 4.1.]

New Genshin Updates always make my thoughts go brrrr. So here's a little something (with modified happenings to fit the story lol) of Wriothesley after he survived the encounter with the Primordial Sea!

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Wriothesley x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Topics of death (Fear of death, Near-death experiences, Fear of loved ones dying), Reader got locked into a closet, Forced Relationship, Dub-Con touches, Long post

Heavy were his steps as he finally made his way back to his office.

The stairs seemed to drag on endlessly after exerting more energy in a matter of minutes than Wriothesley had done in months—actually, years. He couldn't even remember when he last needed to drain his vision for just one more blast of ice and then one more. Luckily, Clorinde was neither a talkative fellow nor in much better shape than he was after they both struggled to hold back the Primordial Sea from escaping. They were both tough and hard to take down in a fight, but even they had their bodily limits.

She left him on the floor beneath his office with a short nod, a few words exchanged out of courtesy and thankfulness. Then she was gone, and Wriothesley's heavy boots continued their ascend, disregarding any weariness in his bones and the burning of his muscles. In a way, the Primordial Water was a prisoner of this place, and Wriothesley chuckled at his own thoughts as he came to this conclusion, exhaustion making everything sound a bit more funny in his head. However, despite knowing that the crisis was averted and the seemingly inescapable destruction and ruin had been contained like an unwilling prisoner of the Fortress of Meropide, he didn't feel like he had succeeded in keeping death away from what he treasured.

Muffling the yawn ripping from his throat, how could he not be elated by the thought of returning to you, the feeling giving him back the pep in his step? Even after all that happened—and Wriothesley had thought of many, many ways this could have ended—you were both still here. Alive.

Unless the ice had frozen you to the core by the time he reached you.

He skipped the last two steps with a jump to avoid this possibility, generating enough energy to jog from the staircase to the closet. Noticing the glistening ice still enveloping the doorknobs, Wriothesley let out a breath of relief before quickly grabbing them, unbothered by the frozen sting ramming into his hands. Not even his body heat would be enough to melt the ice, but he'd be damned if he let his own safety measures keep him from you.

Bracing his body against one of the doors, Wriothesley made sure to keep the closet standing upright while he pried the other one open. More strength was needed to loosen the ice that had seeped into every crack, an airtight grave keeping him away from you. But even so, it would have been a better death than what the Primordial Sea would have done to you had they not been able to contain it. Wriothesley forced himself to avoid the thoughts of the pain and agony the water would have caused you, the idea of him suffering such a fate enough to rampage his skin with goosebumps. He had put you into an awful position, but at that moment, he had believed it to be more merciful than being dissolved and drowned in the water.

Jerking the door again, he could hear the ice cracking, more relief washing over him. Relief that it would have succeeded in protecting you until the worst was over, and even more relief that it was giving way now, returning you to him. Surely, you must have already been panicking with the cold raking at you and the slow loss of air. He'd have to apologize later for putting you into this position, wipe your tears if necessary, and get someone to smuggle some cake into the Fortress as a well-done treat. But all he wanted to do now was to have you back in his arms. Everything else was a worry for later, like the Primordial Sea threatening to destroy all life around Fontaine.

One more ice-breaking tug and the door finally gave away, revealing a trembling, miserable person. His trembling, miserable person. Your first instinct was to gasp for air, the few minutes locked away having taken its toll on you. You were coughing and gasping, clawing towards the light, more than ready to exit your makeshift coffin. Wriothesley caught you before you fell, your eyes unaccustomed to the brightness after spending so much time in the dark, and he sat you upright again, helping you out of the blanket he had wrapped around you in a hurry when the commotion started.

More than any ice, your body had cooled down significantly, and other than when he touched the frozen doorknobs, Wriothesley noticed the temperature of your skin even through your clothes. It pained him, yet, it had been necessary. Pulling his trusty coat off his shoulders, he slung it around your violently shivering form, closing the front tightly so the fur collar would warm your cheeks and ears. There was no way he'd let you walk on legs that were fragile from the cold, and he never planned to let you go anywhere on your own in the first place.

Strong arms wrapped around your body, now engulfed in his coat. His scent was so prevalent, even when it mixed with yours. Wriothesley appreciated how well they worked together. Had scent been enough to mark you as his, he might not have had to do so many things to keep you by his side. You two could have lived pretty normal lives if all it needed was him rubbing off on you, but alas, normalcy wasn't something he had ever been blessed with. Given that there was a very real chance of him dying from being submerged in Primordial Water, not even his death would be able to be claimed as normal. But neither would yours.

But not today. Neither of you died that day, and Wriothesley thanked whatever godly entity he had to thank for that. Even just having the chance to hold you once more was enough to convince him that everything would be okay. At least for now. For one more day. Lifting you out of the closet, he held you, unmoving. Your arms wormed out, desperately holding on to him as if for your dear life, his warmth seeping onto you. Wriothesley felt your nails rake over his chest, panic driving you closer to him. Every shiver, every squirm through the thick material of his coat, and every sob ripping out of your throat, broke his heart more than you'd ever know.

"Why did you do that?" you asked, your voice so full of hurt and accusation, yet you pressed yourself harder against him, teeth chattering. For all you knew, you two had been drinking tea (albeit reluctantly on your part) when the alarms suddenly began to blare around you, and Wriothesley shoved you into the closet as if he was punishing you.

"I had to," he mumbled back, his words muffled by the fabric, his arms restricting tighter around your body.

"I could have died! It was so hard to breathe! And the cold… the cold…”

More sobs tore out of you, and Wriothesley closed his eyes, knowing he had to endure the blame your shaky, fragile voice rightfully accused him of. You were right, but would you understand? Could you understand that he'd rather allow you to die peacefully and whole than go through the same agony he'd be in at the same time? Wriothesley had laid awake countless nights thinking of the what ifs and what to do if push came to shove, only to still be unprepared and get run over by the events, wrapping you in a blanket and kissing your head before forcing you into a closet and sealing it shut. Your safety, or at least heightened chances of survival, were the only things he could think of at that moment, you being the only component in his plan that could make him panic.

But now you were crying in his arms, the fear of everything—the unknown, the darkness, death—spilling out of you. He wished he could have prevented it, but now he knew that the truth would only make it worse for you. If he told you what was happening, you'd react like most prisoners here would, and he couldn't guilt you. Not telling you and keeping you in the dark, doing whatever he had to do, regardless of the feelings, was the only way to keep you safe. Wriothesley was the only one to protect you from a fate much worse than what awaited him if he failed. But now that the danger had been averted, the least he could do was hold you.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, rubbing your back through the fabric, hoping to give you the comfort he needed almost as much himself. But other than you, he could only dream of being comforted by the person he loved. And even those dreams seemed unrealistic. Worse days awaited you two, your and his fate sealed together with that of the rest of Fontaine. But not now. Now wasn't the time for tears and worries, and if he hadn't been so damn exhausted—with you in his arms doubly, warm and soft—he would have celebrated your survival more. Soon, you'd come to your senses, fighting him again, and this time, he wouldn't stop you. He couldn't.

So he'd use what little time he had to enjoy this moment. Walking over to his chair, you graciously let him carry you, allowing him this little, intimate gesture of holding you in his arms all throughout the short journey. Even though he sat down abruptly, knees giving out from under him, your body landed softly, enveloped in his while he let out a strained grunt. The feeling of gravity pressing you into him was one he would have liked to treasure for the next few days, and if it had been up to him, you two would have been cooped up for just as long. But beneath his calloused hands, he could feel your body warming up, your breath no longer icy when it brushed his neck and cheeks.

The fight hadn't taken too long, evident by you still being alive, and yet it felt like he'd been gone for weeks, maybe months. Years of absence that made him miss the feeling of your body and the sound of your voice. His mind should have been on the enemy he was fighting, and yet, his only concern had been you. Getting back to you and not dying without seeing you one more time was everything he thought of as he pushed another punch of eyes to that gate that kept the Primordial Sea contained. You gave him the strength to keep going, if only to give you a chance of survival and to not die in pain like anyone else who'd get into contact with the Primordial Sea. To not give up until Neuvillette showed up, releasing him from this duty to society so he could return to the duty of loving you.

It had been a lot, but when he raised a tired hand to push some of the fur out of your face, witnessing the tears having stopped and the warmth returned to your cheek, it had all been worth it. Wriothesley had to make progress on the project he kept hidden from everyone to ensure that you'd be protected from all the dangers surrounding him. If anyone, then at least you. So even if he couldn't push this tired body of his to do it that day, he knew that from the moment he'd open his eyes after a nap, he'd be back to working on it tirelessly.

"This face," he sighed, cupping your cheek and snorting softly at the pout crossing your features. Tracing the bridge of your nose, he hummed, satisfied that everything was still right where it belonged and had not fallen off from the cold.

"These lips," he mused, brushing his thumb over the soft cushions he dreamed about kissing every night.

"And these eyes."

His words made your gaze rise to his, beautiful jewels in the moody, damp lighting of his office, glistening from the tears yet raging like the sea in a storm defying his adoring stare. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way. If you had to hate him, then hate him. Despise him, he'd deal with it. Wanted to hurt him, he'd let you. Love him… A man could dream. But seeing a storm of emotions was better than the faded light of death you had when he pulled you out of the closet. That was something he wished to never see again. That he'd fight and strife for to never appear on your face again.

"Don't," he chuckled, grin splitting his lips as he pinched your cheek in a loving reprimand after noticing how you wanted to start arguing. Wriothesley couldn't help but laugh out loud when you let out the most adorable grunt in annoyance, squirming on his lap until you could hide your cheeks into the fur again, away from his touch. He settled for the nape of your neck, holding you there gently and noticing in the back of his head how long your hair had grown since you came to the fortress as he brushed his hand through it.

You glared at him defiantly from the safety of his coat, and Wriothesley couldn't imagine a better place or better look for you. "That's what I'm fighting for," he mumbled, pushing his strained muscles to move so he could kiss your forehead. "It's all worth it as long as I can hold you like this. Just a little longer, alright? I'll get you something nice in return."

Wriothesley wasn't someone who begged, not even for your attention. He'd take it and have it as he pleased, but in that moment, he worried he'd lose you if he let you go—for real this time. The uncertainty and inability to tell you what was happening, left a cold, dark hole inside him, wrenching his gut and bursting his heart with regret. All he had to soothe the pain it caused him was to hold you and feel your soft heartbeat through the layers of clothes around you two.

It relieved him to know you were safe. He was safe. You both were okay, but mostly you. He never told you that if there was a way to save your life in exchange for his, he'd do it, no question asked. But it was a weird topic to bring up, especially when you considered him to be a heartless, manipulative asshole who used his authority to take advantage of someone less fortunate. So he didn't. Like many things, he kept his thoughts to himself, hoping that, in some miraculous way, you'd come to understand one day. Maybe even like him.

"I hate you," you reiterated, and Wriothesley managed another chuckle to hide how much that statement hurt him. He fully expected you to jump off his lap now, walk away from him and out of his office, choosing to spend your time wisely instead of indulging him. You were no longer shivering, your teeth calm, and your heartbeat even, and yet, you didn't budge.

Turning your head to the side, you placed it on his chest, stilling on top of his heart, this small gesture enough to make it threaten to burst out of his ribcage. Maybe he underestimated you. Perhaps you did understand, at least vaguely, that whatever happened had been pretty bad for him. He'd take the pity if it came from you. Wriothesley could only hope you magically understood that whatever he did in his absence, he did it not to harm but to protect you. You never showed him any mercy with your opinions or actions, so this side of you could only be explained by assuming kindness and understanding from you. But whatever it was, he was grateful. So, so grateful.

This was all he ever wanted: holding you, burying his face in your hair in a moment of vulnerability for him. Where he wasn't stronger, wasn't exuding authority over you. Forcing you to bend to his will. A moment where he could forget the world as all his senses tuned themselves on you. Everything was you, from the softness of your body to the smell surrounding him. Your heartbeat in his ears and his eyes closing as Wriothesley was comforted by your warmth. Even if you'd never appreciate what he was doing, this was enough reward for all the hardships he went through for you daily, but especially on this day. It reminded him of why he was working so hard, even though he never meant to fall in love with you this deeply. Your tiny bit of compliance would satisfy this overpowering need for you for a couple of days until he'd be back on his feet.

Wriothesley wanted to say more. In fact, he wanted to tell you everything. But it wasn't the right time, nor did he have the strength. Your feelings changed nothing about his, every beat of his heart screaming, "I love you! I love you! I love you!"

He was a little glad you didn't hear it. That would have been embarrassing.

Grinning to himself, he could feel his conscience being pulled out from under him. His breaths even, despite the extra weight on his chest that he clung to desperately, his chair never feeling more comfortable than in that moment. He wished to stay awake for a little longer, muse about the fact that you were the best blanket he could wish for, feeling just so right. Sleeping while holding you like this would definitely improve his nights, as he wouldn't have to worry about where you were and who you were with. If you were safe or in the process of trying to do something stupid. But he'd take what he could get, even if it was just this one time of you not trying to tear out of his arms and run from him.

After all, this day could have ended very differently. But it didn't.

He got to hold you again, the crisis averted so he could return to you. He had to be thankful for that, as his life would be worth nothing without you. And even waking up with you gone would be more pleasant than any thought about you dying far away from him. So he'd take this time to rest like he always had wanted, his beloved in his arms, his thoughts and dreams filled with you.

Trying not to be too greedy, now that he knew what it felt like not to lose you.

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fancyfeathers · 3 months

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Vision Beyond Sight- How darlings of the Harbinger’s got their visions (Part One, Childe, Pantalone, Signora)

Childe

She got her vision one early morning, she was helping with the household chores with her siblings. She was carrying firewood back into the house when she heard someone call her name from behind her. Before she could even turn around she was tackled by a hug, falling into the snow. There is a man’s laughter as she turns around on her back to see the man above her. She saw that red hair and those blue eyes, and it took her a moment before…

“Ajax?”

He nodded in reply and they hugged again. She can hardly believe it, Ajax is back, oh how long has it been? Seven, eight years? There was surprised laughter from her as she was swept off of the ground by her old friend, him holding her like a bride. He spins her around in his arms and once he sets her down, her first instinct is to ask why is he here, but before she can see from over his shoulder that there are at least four Fatui agents, all of which look awfully cross with her. She looks at them and then back at her friend.

“Ajax, who are-“

“You address him as Lord Tartaglia!”

The agent snapped at her and she jumped back, clearly startled. As Ajax scolds the man for yelling at her, you had to back up as you piece it all together. Her childhood best friend was the eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers. She did not know him anymore, this was not the same boy who left home seven years ago.

There was a lump in her throat as she heard her mother’s happy voice inviting the harbinger inside, inviting him in for breakfast. It hardly felt real as they all sat at the table together, there was talking but her mind was elsewhere. After breakfast Ajax asked if he could discuss something with her parents. They were talking in her father’s study while she was sitting in the living room, her mind going a million miles per hour. She goes to shove her hands in her pockets and then she feels something new in it. She slowly pulls it out and her heart skips a beat…

An Anemo vision…

She wants to be happy hut she’s so incredibly stressed that she couldn’t even force a smile. She hides the teal stone as the office door opens and out comes her parents and Ajax, all smiling and happy. Then they tell her…

“You’re going to be married to Ajax!”

She would have thrown up right then and there but she had to stay calm. She forced a smile as the harbinger kneeled down to where she was sitting and kissed her cheek and embraced her. The moment he lets go, she gets up and excuses herself, saying she needs some air. She slips out the back door, and walking through the snow like she is just going on a walk, but the moment she is out of sight of the house, she runs and doesn’t look back.

Pantalone

She received her vision when her business was first doomed. She was out running errands, picking up some more office supplies, fabric, needles, thread, and so on. She had picked up your order of fine fabrics that were delivered to the post office, when she looked outside she saw the rain pouring down. She sighed and shook her head, rain in Sheznaya isn’t a good thing because it always freezes into ice and when one’s covered in water outside, normally you freeze. She sat by the window, the ordered fabric resting on her lap as she waited out the storm, at this rate it could be hours. She heard the door to the post office open and she could hear the footsteps of the patron followed by brief conversation. The sound of the clerk rushing to back registered in her mind, but she did not spare a glance, her eyes sticking to the snow outside.

“Strange to see you out in this weather, my dear.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the voice to see the familiar face of Pantalone, the 9th of the Fatui Harbingers. She shot up to stand in respect, but he just chuckled and shook his head, telling her there is no need for such things. He sat down next to her and the two chatted, him asking how her business was going, how her family was, and so on. Soon the clerk returned with the Harbinger’s packages and apologized profusely for not having them delivered to his estate. The Harbinger smiled and nodded, saying it was quite alright. As he opened the door he looked at his “future” darling, looking at her with an expectant eye.

“Well, you coming? I know you aren’t going to walk home in this rain, and I simply won’t allow it.”

He ushered her out with him, his hand resting on her shoulder, guiding her to the carriage outside the door. He helped her into the carriage and sat across from her. The ride was quiet until there was the sound of Pantalone opening one of the package, a small one. She then notices that they passed her shop, she raises an eyebrow but shrugs it off assuming that he was perhaps taking her home, but then they passed that as well.

“My Lord…”

“Hm?”

She tells him that they passed both her home and shop, but he ignores the question. He tells her how hard it is to be a person such as herself on her own, especially when there is so many people who would love to take advantage of her in the world. She can feel her heartbeat race as the harbinger set his hand on top of hers. Then her eyes goes from his smile to what he hold in his hand from the package, a ring box with a beautiful diamond ring.

“Marry me, and I will make sure you’re taken care of for the rest of your days.”

She tenses up and at that tenseness he frowns, knowing she’ll have a negative reaction. She shoves his hand off and yells to stop the carriage. The carriage slams to a stop and before the Harbinger can say something in his angered state, she opens the door and steps out with her belongings, saying she can take off herself. She walks off into the snow and freezing rain as the carriage drives off in the opposite direction, luckily she can’t hear the curses from the harbinger as he looses his temper.

She walk in the cold and realizes what a foolish choice it was but then it hits her, she wasn’t cold. She then looks down at he stack of fabric in her arms and sees right on top of it all, a cyro vision. She returns home, unaffected by the cold. When she goes to open her shop in the morning her face is taken by horror, the windows are shattered, the door nearly broken off it’s hinges, but luckily nothing inside was destroyed, after all Pantalone’s orders were just to shake her up.

Signora

Signora’s darling received his vision when he was on patrol. He was taking a break from his usual duties as the Recruitment Captain and decided to give other knights a break by taking the nightly patrol. He was walking past the Goth Grand Hotel, where a number of Fatui were staying, he gave them a nod and a smile, they haven’t caused him trouble so far so he had no reason to hate them. Then in his ears there was a scream for help… it was coming from the front gates. He rushed down, jumping walls and sprinting down staircases until his feet landed on the bridge that faced the wilds, he stood between the girl that had called for help and a ruin guard. The knights who stand at the gate had run at the sight of it, he would have to address that later, but a ruin guard had never come this close to the city before, the closest he could think of finding one was at Star Snatch Cliff, what was one doing here? He turned to the girl and told her to alert the Acting Grand Master immediately. As she ran off he drew his sword as the mechanical monstrosity approached him.

He could hardly process anything when Jean came, along with Outrider Amber and Cavalry Captain Kaeya. He was pushed to the side and he found himself stumbling down to come to rest in an alleyway, he was so hurt he couldn’t process anything, not every the sound of voices and footsteps approaching him, assumingely to see what was going on at the gate.

“…My love?”

He knight didn’t even process the voice till he saw a blond woman coming to kneel down next to him. He recognized her as one of the Fatui members her often saw at the Goth Grand Hotel in his patrol, but she recognized him as so much more. To Signora, she saw his face and it was the same face of her lover to died all those years ago, reborn again, those same eyes. But alas he had to join the knights once more, she just couldn’t bare looking at how hurt he was. She should just take him back the Sheznaya with her-

There was a scream that ripped through the air, The darling recognized as Amber’s.

He did not waste a moment before throwing himself to his feet again and running away from the fair lady, to her horror. She followed and watched and he ran back to the bridge, drew his sword, and swung it at the ruin guard. The Harbinger was ready to step in and save her long lost love, but she didn’t need to. She watched as water emerged from the lake and wrapped around the body of the ruin guard, like a snake, before harshly dragging it under, never to be seen again just as a hydro vision came to appear in front of him.

She saw the passion and courage in his eyes, but…

She would not allow his strong sense of justice to take him from her again…

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x you #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere pantalone x reader #yandere pantalone #yandere signora x reader #Yandere signora

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decolonize-the-left · 4 months

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Hey y'all please watch this and share it around, my father in law is so proud of this and Im proud of him for it. Look at him getting them in frame, he's so excited to contribute and doing work on the ground!

If you love people or hate ICE then watch this and skip to 13:30 when the conference starts

Alright so this group helps asylum seekers at the southern border by providing things like food, drink, tents, and shelter. They have formed a small tent city at the border as well because the asylum seekers are told that if they leave the outside detention site they'll get deported.

This is them addressing bold face lies that San Diego county has told in addition the failure to meet expectations and provide things themselves.

One of the lies is that the county claims the money being used to support asylum seekers come from taxpayers but it was THIS GROUP and others who raised funds. Upwards of $60k.

This is after they ignored the groups request for funding.

They touch on the corruption of sending funding to a large, unhelpful nonprofit where most funding goes to staffing rather than people migrating. They amount was $6 million and the Free Shit Collective is surprised at how fast the money is going without any substantial changes for the asylum seekers.

Also if you helped them earlier in my previous post, there's a thank you for anyone who donated. Bonus: you are now personally involved in the lies that San Diego is telling about the border and claiming YOUR donations dont exist and that the money is actually from the state.

Also resource links and how to help! I know how much y'all love those!!

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luveline · 2 years

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hi! I saw your post about soft/fluff things and I was wondering what you would think about steve with a girl who is accidentally touched starved so Steve, could be bestfriend!steve who has feelings or boyfriend!steve, always makes it a point to hold her face when he's talking to her because she just melts? I just love your Steve (and your remus and peter)

this is the cutest! tysm for ur req i hope it's okay ♡

You're holding a small glass under the faucet. The water quickly overflows. Steve's in the middle of a train of thought babble and doesn't notice at first, his back to the sink basin, aimless chatter echoing through his empty kitchen.

"So, I try to tell the guy. It's an adult section. I can see that you're an adult but the system needs to know that I saw an ID or I could lose my job, and I'm not gonna risk that so you can watch Redhead Babes Gone Wild in secrecy, and he…Y/N?"

"I'm listening," you say.

Steve pulls your hand from under the flow. The water is freezing cold, your fingers like ice cubes. He sets the glass aside and dries your hands off, trying to keep the small line of concern from his brows as he does.

You're perturbingly quiet. A knot works its way into Steve's chest as he massages your cold hands in his, attempting to start his story from where he left off but drawing blanks, worried by your distracted state.

"You wouldn't lose your job for him, so he…?" you work out like the words are hard to say.

He smiles gratefully, bringing his hand to your face as he talks to give you that little bit of grounding you need.

"He gets furious, starts shouting at me, and tries to drag Robs into the whole thing. Keith comes out of the office-"

"He was actually there?" you ask, voice weak.

Steve grins brilliantly.

"He was actually there. He comes out and point blank calls this guy a pervert, which makes him even more mad." He strokes the length of your cheek mindlessly, eyes on yours as they start to shutter. "Keith says he'll call the police and the guy runs off."

"Anti-climatic," you murmur.

Steve squeezes your cheek gently. "Not quite. He runs off, but what does he take with him?"

"What?" you ask, smiling like you know.

"Redhead Babes Gone Wild."

You're relaxing under his hand. He likes this part, reassured in knowing he can give you some relief and settle your agitation, your despondency with a loving touch. He brings the other hand up and cradles your face, taking advantage of your closed eyes to ogle the lines of your face, your small wrinkles, your fine hairs, your dots and your skin and your lashes where they kiss your under eye delicately.

"You didn't get it back?" you murmur.

"No. Worse, some guy comes in the next day requesting it. We had to tell him to come back next week."

Your head drops slowly until his hand is sandwiched between your shoulder and your soft cheek.

He rubs a sweeping line over your other cheek, too affectionate, not that you'd ever deny it.

"The redheads are gone," you mumble. "Not sure about wild."

"Gone hostage," he furthers. It's an awful attempt at a joke and still you laugh, hands twitching at your sides. "You… do you want a hug?"

"Please," you whisper.

He pushes his hand from where it's been leveraged to cup the back of your neck and the other joins it, wrists crossing, the heat of your chest flush with his. You wrap your arms around his back and sigh so quietly he almost misses it.

"Babes gone forever," he says as he pushes his chin over your head. "Gone fishing. Gone camping. Babes gone kidnapping? Kidnapped. The babes are gone, whatever way you look at it."

He laughs so loudly his throat burns, pulling back to pat your face. "Rest in peace, redhead babes."

Your laughter plants a seed of heat in his chest, and your attempt to get closer waters it. He's a vestibule of blossoming fondness as you needle your arms around him tight enough to make him ache and say, "Babes gone but not forgotten."

"Rest in peace," you agree. Steve doesn't mean to brag, but the affection definitely makes a difference, your smile a deitific sight.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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autisticlenaluthor · 7 months

Text

Love

Kara’s never understood the people who withhold ‘I love you’s.

On earth, it seems taboo, almost, to admit to having such a feeling. Like a dirty word that must be kept quiet.

Fear, Kara can understand. But she can’t comprehend treating love like a finite resource; as if it’s dangerous to give away the phrase for the chance of running out before it can reach the person who deserves it the most.

Eliza says it’s because some people believe overuse waters down the meaning. If you tell everyone you love them, the impact isn’t so great. It’s just another word, just another feeling.

But the explanation is lost on Kara. Love isn’t something tangible, it isn’t something you can hold or lose– so why pretend it can be diminished?

Perhaps the most rebellious thing Kara ever does is spread her ‘I love you’s like petals in the wind.

She tells the employees at the deli on her way to work she loves their bagels and the barista at Noonan’s she loves them for making the perfect caramel latte. She signs holiday cards with hearts and loopy letters, spelling out ‘Love, Kara’ for everyone who gets them. She says it to her friends when they part ways after spending the day together, and over text when they haven’t spoken in a while. She says it to Eliza over the phone– always followed with a synonymous ‘I miss you’. And when she finds herself talking to her parents in her head, she imagines herself throwing the words up to the stars.

The way Lena loves is different.

It isn’t spoken. Most times it isn’t obvious. But it’s there, even when Kara has to dig to find it.

It’s in the flowers she delivers to Kara’s office as a thank-you for her article. And the red heart emojis she sends whenever she and Kara talk.

Lena’s ‘I love you’s are nervous and fleeting. They run before they can be captured and fill themselves with plausible deniability. Because the only thing worse than being caught is being rejected.

They duck and they hide; but they always come back.

They return every week at game night, when Lena arrives with a pastry from Kara’s favorite bakery. (I love you)

Until they close over the winter and she resorts to ice cream instead. (I love you)

When Kara gets stuck at work after the longest day and Lena has pizza anonymously sent to CatCo, so the night won’t be all bad. (I love you)

She smiles when she sees Kara’s text about the surprise and responds with a red heart. The emoji she’s saved just for her. (I love you)

On her morning walk, Lena collects pictures of the dogs she sees and stops by the new coffee shop Kara recommended so they can talk about it before their movie night. When she reads herself to sleep, she fills her books with annotations and marks with pink Post-Its the ones that remind her of her friends. And on her way to work, she listens to the playlist Kara made for her, even though the morning drive she always reserves for podcasts.

(I love you. I love you. I love you)

The verbal thing comes and goes, but the love always remains.

Quiet and swift until one night Lena finds herself on the couch with Kara, cuddled up against her in a position they’ve replicated a hundred times before. They share one blanket and act as pillows for the other with a popcorn bowl balanced between their thighs and a movie playing on the TV.

It may be simple– basic, even, but there’s no other way Lena would rather spend her time. That’s what she thinks as she lifts her chin from Kara’s shoulder and glances up at her.

“I love you,” she says.

And Kara smiles.

“I know,” she responds. “I love you too.”

#supercorptober2023 #supercorp ficlet #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #i cant tell if this one sucks or not LMAO

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unseededtoast · 7 months

Text

Begin Again | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: Based off Hozier’s song “All Things End”. In which things abruptly ended between you and Spencer, and you’ve never been able to reconcile your emotions over the relationship, or losing him. When presented a second chance on a silver platter, you’re grateful for the chance to begin again.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 9.2k

warnings: a lot of angst, that's about it.

a/n: and here i am again with another Hozier/Spencer collab. I promise the next one isn't going to be Hozier inspired lol, and I hope not to take two weeks to get the next out, but thank you for reading, it means the world:)

In one single night, the life you had worked so hard for has crumbled right in front of you. All the plans for the future, slipping right through your fingers.

If you had known five years ago where your dream job would lead you, you don't think you would have taken it. In fact, you would've went running in the opposite direction of the FBI's Quantico office, never to step a foot over the threshold. And maybe things would have been better that way, but there's no way to know.

Sure, you loved the job, adored it even. You took pride in knowing that you've saved people and locked the bad guys away, never to see the light of day again. And you loved your team, well, some more than others; but that was five years ago by now. You thought you had left it all behind but here you sit, waiting for your old boss to show up at a restaurant he made reservations at.

Your foot nervously taps against the floor, not entirely sure what to expect. You hadn't heard from anyone on the team in years, and out of the blue your old supervisor wants to meet? It probably doesn't mean anything good. But thankfully, your mind doesn't have to race for much longer as you see your old supervisor, Hotch, walk through the glass doors. You stand to shake his hand, and he greets you.

"It's been a while." He says, sitting down into the chair. You nod your head, scooting your chair closer to the table.

"It sure has been." The tension in the air is palpable, your palms are sweaty and your heart races, beating erratically in your chest.

"How has life been treating you?" He eases into the conversation, sipping on the water the waitress had dropped off before he arrived.

"It's been alright. Took a job as a professor." You say, skirting around the reality of what the past five years have really been like. It wouldn't be professional for you to tell Hotch your world had crashed and burned.

"That's good to hear." He smiles softly, and this time it's your turn to drink some water. You only hope he doesn't notice the tremble in your hands, but you know with his expertise he picked up on it immediately. Unable to take the suspense any longer, you speak up.

"Hotch, why did you call me here?" Your eyes bore into his as you await his answer. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath.

"There's been some changes in management since you've been gone. Strauss no longer oversees the BAU." He says, as if that's supposed to mean anything to you. You swirl the straw around in the cup, trying to give your mind something else to focus on to alleviate the overwhelming nerves.

"That's such a shame." Your voice drips with sarcasm. If you had it your way, Strauss would have fallen off the face of the planet five years ago.

"We would like to reinstate you." The straw stops swirling in the glass and it's like ice fills your veins. Lifting your gaze from the water, you see nothing but seriousness on his face.

"Reinstate me?" You're in disbelief, but Hotch nods.

"Only if you're interested." He says, sliding a file full of paperwork over to you. You open the file and see reinstatement forms waiting for you, a pen clipped to the top. Your mouth falls open in disbelief.

"I didn't think that was possible. After my suspension I was ineligible for any other federal position. So how is this happening?" You read the words on the front page of the form, unsure if you want to fill it out or not.

"I was able to pull some strings. We'd be happy to have you back." You know his words aren't entirely representative of everyone's feelings about you on the team, a pit of unease forms in your stomach the longer you look at the words.

"Well, some people maybe." You mutter, closing the file. Hotch sighs and readjusts his tie.

"The team misses you. Come by the office with me, for old time's sake if nothing else." Hotch offers, and despite the unease about seeing some of your former teammates, your curiosity and love for the job takes over.

"Sure." You agree, a part of you needing to see the office again. The office had practically been your home at one point, and now it's just a bittersweet memory.

The two of you hurry through lunch and before you know it, you're in a familiar passenger seat. Hotch's black SUV hadn't changed a bit, it's nostalgic in the best way possible. The file is clutched tightly in your grasp, your knuckles turning white as you get closer to the office. Familiar streets look the same as you remember, almost as if Quantico is stuck in time. You only hope that not everything about Quantico had been entrapped, you desperately hope that some things have changed.

Hotch parks in front of the building and your throat goes dry, your legs seemingly paralyzed, unable to move from their spot. Noticing your apprehensiveness, Hotch walks around and opens your door, offering you his hand to take. You take his hand and step out of his car, making the trip up to the BAU's office. The elevator ride is quicker than you remember and before you're mentally prepared, the doors slide open and you're met with a familiar space.

You walk behind Hotch, not being brave enough to walk in first. That, plus you're technically a visitor with no right to walk ahead of an agent. It seems the office space has also fallen victim to the time capsule effect. There's not a single desk or chair out of place. Your eyes glance around, seeing Derek's jacket slung over the back of his chair, Emily's usual coffee order beside her computer, and your old desk that sits empty. You purposefully ignore one of the desks, not having the courage to look over there.

Hotch leads you to his office and closes the door behind you. The blinds on his office windows are open, meaning anyone can look in here and see you sitting across from his desk. You're not sure if you want them to see you or not. No, you're definitely sure there's one person you don't want to see you.

"Now, I'm not asking you to make a decision right now. I know there's a lot to consider, but hear me out. I know that you did the right thing back then, if it were up to me you wouldn't have been suspended. You were one of our best and we need you back." He leans forward on his desk and you avert your gaze from him, looking down at the file on your lap. Your foot taps on the ground, mind racing a million miles a minute.

"If I do accept, I get fully reinstated?" It almost feels like a dream, you need to be sure that this is really happening.

"Fully reinstated." Hotch confirms. For the past five years this is all you've wanted, but now that you're presented with the opportunity, you can't help but wonder if the past has tarnished any chance of a new beginning or any fresh start here.

You hear an increase of voices outside of Hotch's office and you can't help but look over. Emily and Derek joke back and forth about something, each with a file in their hand. They must have just returned from a case. Following close behind is the one person you had hoped to avoid altogether, Spencer.

Your heart drops to your stomach, and it's like a bowling ball has been thrown right at your chest, knocking the air from your lungs. He's holding his own file and he takes a seat at his desk, opening the front of it up and quickly filling out the forms inside. His hair has grown out, it's curlier than you remember. And he looks more mature, his features more beautifully defined.

You remember all the mornings you would bring him coffee and all the times he would bring your favorite kind of muffin. How sometimes you'd return from a break and find that your incident report had already been completed. And then there were the times you would camp out at his desk, content to listen to him ramble about anything and everything under the sun. You always adored how animated he got when he was passionate about something, that was until the passion pivoted from topics of interest to yelling at each other in his kitchen. He sure was animated then, too.

"I can walk you out if you'd like." Hotch interrupts your staring and you blink a few times, knocking yourself out of your trance.

"Yeah, I'd like that, thank you." Your voice is hoarse and you make it your mission to keep your gaze focused on the back of Hotch's head as you exit the office. You don't miss the sudden cessation of voices as you two walk out, you can only imagine the conversations that follow your presence here.

Hotch drives you back to your car left at the restaurant and tells you to inform him of your decision, regardless of what it may be. You agree, it's the least you can do, but you don't give an indication one way or the other. Truthfully, you have no idea what you're going to decide. There are a lot of factors to consider, and Hotch knows that. He drives off and you return to your home, unable to think of anything else but the offer to be reinstated.

-----

The forms have sat on your countertop for the past three days, their presence almost suffocating you. You had tried to do other things, grade your student's papers and outline lesson plans but nothing was working. The only thing you can think of is whether or not you should take Hotch up on his offer.

Photos on your walls of the people you've saved stare back at you, their permanently smiling faces reminding you of all the good that came from the job. Your eyes move from one photo to the other, remembering each case as if it happened yesterday. Hardly anyone on the team kept photos like this, but you took inspiration from your mentor, Gideon, and admired how he was able to keep himself from getting lost in the darkness that comes with the territory of the job by reminding himself of those he saved.

While there were people you saved, there were a lot you lost as well. And you can't forget them either, no matter how hard you try. Their cries, screams, and corpses are forever tattooed in your memory and no matter the amount of time that passes, the memories never fade.

Without considering the people saved and the people lost, there's still the matter of your teammates. You had lost contact with them all after your suspension and you don't know if they'd welcome you back with open arms. Besides your suspension, there's the matter of Spencer.

Things hadn't ended well between the two of you, and you're not sure if you two could work together cohesively. Sure, everything happened five years ago but it doesn't take a genius to understand that time doesn't heal all wounds. Not wounds that cut down into someone's soul, the very fiber of their being.

You still remember the last words you ever spoke to one another, you remember the malice you held for each other. And it would be easy to place blame on either one of you, but you know deep down that it was not the sole fault of you, nor him. You each played a part in the relationship's downfall. Without thinking, you find yourself staring at an old team photo and the memory of that fateful night seeps into your mind.

-----

His hand slams down on the granite countertop, causing you to stop speaking immediately. He's never been this angry with you before, or ever, for that matter. His face is red, brows drawn tightly together, veins prominent on his forearms from the adrenaline.

"How could you have been so stupid? You knew what would happen and you did it anyways!" Spencer is trying his best not to outright scream at you, his voice is strained and you stammer to find the words. You can't believe he's actually blaming you for what you did.

"Stupid? If I hadn't done that she would have died. A five year old child would have been slaughtered in front of me. I didn't have time to think about the legality of the situation or how we could have benefitted from keeping the unsub alive, forgive me I forgot you've never made a damn mistake in your life." Anger and sarcasm thickly coat your words as you take a few steps towards him, not keeping your composure as well as him.

You had just shot a man at point blank range to save a girl's life not three hours ago, and had been suspended from the FBI for one. And here you are, having a screaming match with Spencer in his kitchen. You had expected him at least to console you, to reassure you that you had done the right thing, but instead he criticizes you.

His apartment had always been your safe haven. After particularly rough cases, the two of you would return here and hold each other close for however long it took to be okay again. He would make your favorite tea, and you would read him whatever book he wanted, wrapped up in each other's arms, safe. This place was supposed to protect you two from the horrors of the world, be your own little slice of peace. But within the blink of an eye, your safe haven turned into your own personal hell.

"He could have given us so much more information about other victims. There was no guarantee she would have died. If you would have just thought things through none of this would have happened." He shakes his head, voice dropping octaves and it chills you to your core. Your jaw sets tightly and your chest constricts with emotion. After everything you two had overcome together, you can't believe this is the last straw.

"You know what Spencer, you were the one person I thought I could count on to back me up on this." You say, taking steps back and accepting the hard reality that things can never be the same. You turn and make your way to his bedroom and find your bag at the end of the bed. In a rush, you open it and throw some of your belongings in before zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder.

As you pass him in the kitchen you dig into your pocket and find your keys. With trembling fingers, you take the key to the apartment off the ring and toss it on the counter. Without stopping to gauge his reaction, you reach the front door and turn the handle. Before you take your last steps out of the apartment, you turn back and face him. The man you had planned a life with is now unrecognizable to you, and you force yourself not to cry in front of him. Knowing this could very well be the last time you ever see him, you find it within yourself to say something.

"What happened?" Your voice breaks, betraying your false attitude of confidence. Before he can speak, you close the door behind you and put one foot in front of the other with no destination in mind.

In one single night, the life you had worked so hard for has crumbled right in front of you. All the plans for the future, slipping right through your fingers.

-----

Your fingers ghost over the picture frame, and a lone tear streams down your cheek. It's hard saying how many tears you've shed over the entire situation, and you're sure this won't be the last.

After a while, you find yourself on your couch, snuggled underneath a faux fur blanket and staring at your wall of photos. Their smiles seem to be wider tonight, like they're encouraging you to make a choice. Something within you blooms, a spark of hope burns in your chest and you know that you've made your decision.

The love of the job, the love of helping people, is far stronger than your sorrows over Spencer. You've had five years to come to terms with that relationship ending, but you've never been able to come to terms with losing the job you worked so hard for. Besides, you're not going to let a man force you to change your plans for the future.

Your hands find your phone and you email your resignation to your boss at the university. It's past midterms, and everyone is performing well enough so you decide to pass them all, no final exam needed for anyone.

Not caring about the fallout of your abrupt resignation, you get to work filling out the reinstatement forms. You feel a familiar buzz, the one that has your fingertips tingling with excitement and it's clear that you're making the right decision. You're going to be back where you rightfully belong.

- - - - - The next morning you step off the elevator with the file clutched tightly by your side. Butterflies flutter in your tummy but you force yourself to hold your head high as you open the office doors. You've made a point to dress your best, wanting your reinstatement to be memorable and show people that you're back for good; and you mean business.

Hotch's door is open and so you let yourself in. His eyes widen when he sees you and motions for you to take a seat. He eyes the folder in your hands and you can tell from the way he sets his pen down that he's nervous about what you've come here to say. You could have fun with this moment and make him sweat with anticipation, but you're not cruel and your excitement surely shows through your façade.

"I take it you've come to a decision?" He breaks the silence and meets your eyes. You nod your head, trying your hardest to keep a neutral expression.

"I have." You say and slide the file across his desk. Hotch opens the front cover and you see his shoulder relax, he lets out a breath he had been holding.

"I was hoping you'd come back." He smiles and stands from the desk, extending his hand for you to take. Unable to keep a smile off your face, you feel like this is your first day all over again; bright eyed and hopeful for the future.

"Couldn't keep me away." You tell him and he drops your hand. The clock on his wall reads ten minutes until ten, and you're hopeful that he lets you sit in on the morning's briefing.

"You know the drill, conference room in ten." He says and places the file on a stack on his desk. With a nod of your head, you exit his office and go back to the bullpen, where your confidence falters and reality sets in.

You had convinced yourself last night that the love of this job would be enough but you can't deny the creeping anxiety you feel. How is the rest of the team going to react? And what are you going to do if they're unwelcoming? You know you can count on Spencer being unwelcoming, but you hope the others aren't. You've missed them more than anything.

Ten minutes flies by too quickly for your liking. You had shown up to the conference room early, too anxious about running into someone to do anything else. But one by one the team files in, luckily Hotch comes first and you know with him here nobody will dare say anything to your face. Derek, Emily, and JJ come in shortly after Hotch, each giving you a small smile as they take their seat around the table. The tension is palpable in the air, almost as if an energy is buzzing between all of you. But when Spencer makes his appearance, it's like your heart drops into your stomach.

He blatantly ignores you, opting to take the farthest seat from you, sipping his morning cup of coffee. You try not to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye you can notice even more changes about him. His style, for starters, is one of the biggest changes. It seems he's ditched his sweaters and instead has replaced them with simple button ups, sleeves rolled to his elbows with a simple black tie.

Your heart rate increases as you realize this is not the same man you remember, he seems intimidating now; which is never how you would have described him before. He's not the Spencer you knew at all, and you're not sure if that makes you relieved or pained. Pulling you out of your train of thought, Hotch begins the morning meeting.

"Now, I'm just going to address the elephant in the room. We've regained one of our best team members, and I'm confident that we can all work cohesively together moving forward." You know who his words are for, everyone does. But luckily, Hotch moves on, bringing up pictures of young girls and this time, JJ speaks up.

"Three girls have gone missing in Northeast Harbor, Maine. It's right by the Acadia National Park which makes it a highly traveled place. Each girl attended the local high school, all in the same class. The first went missing three weeks ago, the second went missing two weeks ago, and the third went missing one day ago." JJ gives us the rundown of the case, and you take as many mental notes as you can, feeling a little out of practice from the order of operations. And you don't miss how similar this is to the case the team was working when you were suspended. In fact, this case is eerily similar.

"Local police have called us in before a fourth goes missing. They've found no evidence that the girls have been killed, so we treat this case as missing persons. Wheels up in fifteen." Hotch says, dismissing the team. You know that you will get more details on the flight to Maine, so you don't sweat the smaller details of the case.

Everyone gets up to leave, Spencer is the first out of the room and it's almost as if being in that room was the worst form of torture for him. With a sigh, you get up and follow the others, trying not to dwell on Spencer's actions too much. After all, you knew this was coming.

"It's good to have you back." Emily says as you pass her desk, and you smile, stopping to talk with her.

"It's good to be back. I didn't think I'd ever get this chance." You tell her truthfully, trying to gauge her reactions to you being here. She smiles warmly, her fingers curled around a disposable coffee cup.

"When Strauss retired, bringing you back was one of the first things Hotch wanted to do." She says, which surprises you. With raised eyebrows, you perch on the edge of her desk.

"Really? And everyone was okay with it?" You inquire, wanting to see if she'll give you any helpful information about everyone else's feelings about having you back. She takes a sip of her coffee and nods.

"Really. After you were suspended we conducted our own investigation into the matter and we even went to Strauss about it. But she wouldn't change her mind, no matter what evidence we showed her." Emily sighs and takes another drink. You had never heard of any sort of investigations or other findings, it's all news to you.

"What did you all find?" You ask, nervous to know what had happened after you had been dismissed from service. Emily's eyes look around the bullpen before she steps closer to you.

"We found a notebook at the unsub's house, full of information about the other victims, almost like a step-by-step replay of how he abducted them. We found the other three missing girls locked away in the shed behind his house. It didn't matter if he lived through that day or not, we had saved them all." Her words hit you hard, like you had just walked headfirst into a brick wall. Your mouth falls agape in shock.

Strauss' reasoning for having you suspended was that the use of deadly force wasn't warranted, that it was unnecessary and excessive. Even though he had a knife to a girl's throat, she was hellbent on the idea that had he lived more information would've been found. But the information was found not even twenty four hours after your suspension.

"So you're telling me that not even a full day after she suspended me you all found the other girls alive and well? Killing him didn't affect anything?" You almost can't believe what you're hearing. Emily places a reassuring hand on your shoulder,

"We did. And when you killed him you likely saved that girls' life. His notebook told us that he was planning on ramping up his attacks." You feel like you could get sick. Out of the corner of your eye you see Spencer walking towards his desk, but all you can focus on is the revelation Emily just revealed to you.

"So my suspension was for nothing?" Your voice wavers as it all sinks in. You had indeed saved that girls life, and hadn't even ruined the chance of finding the others. Your fingers grip the edge of her desk tightly. Emily's grasp on your shoulder tightens, and she brings you in for a hug.

"We all tried our best, but Strauss wasn't having it. But we're glad you're back. We've missed you." She says, backing out of the embrace and leaving you shell-shocked on her desk as she goes to throw away her coffee cup.

-----

The jet is silent as everyone reviews information for the case. Your eyes read the words but your distracted mind can't comprehend them. No, your mind is too busy mulling over the fact that your suspension had been needless. And if that was needless, so was your fight with Spencer. Things didn't have to be this way, but they were.

Your eyes flicker up to Spencer, who's sitting across the jet from you, eyes trained on the papers in front of him. His beauty still manages to take your breath away, though you know you should hate him. You should despise him, but you can't. Some of your fondest memories are shared with him. And no matter how cruel his words were to you, you can't erase the love you still hold for him.

Probably feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and meets your eyes for the first time in five years. Your heart thumps erratically. While his style might have changed and his hair might be curlier now, his eyes are still the same.

You remember waking up and seeing those eyes shining down at you. The memories of looking into those eyes for comfort and love are not lost on you, your heart yearns for more of those moments; but you know that might never happen again.

All too soon, Spencer breaks eye contact with you and continues reading the file. Even more distracted than before, you feign reading the case file. You know you should be trying your best to absorb the information given this is your first case back but your mind is flooded with memories on this jet.

Everywhere you look, you can remember a moment you shared with Spencer. How he would beat you at chess every time, how you two would fall asleep next to each other on the bench seat, hands intertwined. Even the bathroom holds memories of when he would clean blood off of you from particularly bad cases, and how he would hold you as if you were the most precious artifact.

And all of that ended, all of it in the blink of an eye.

You bite the inside of your cheeks as to not cry from the overwhelming emotions you're not longer able to suppress and force yourself to read the words on the paper. Your body betrays you, and a single tear drops from your cheeks and stains the paper.

By the time the jet lands, you've somehow managed to read the case file front to back and have the information basically memorized. A sense of deja vu dances in your head, seeing similarities to the last case you worked. But this time, you vow to yourself that you won't get suspended. In fact, you'd be surprised if you're given any responsibility except for victimology.

-----

Just as you figured, you've been stuck with victimology. Which is fine, you're definitely not about to complain about what responsibilities you're saddled with; you're just happy to be back.

Unfortunately, Spencer has been tasked with the geographic profile, as usual, which means you two are forced to work in close quarters in the police precinct. You're not sure if Hotch did this on purpose or not, but you do your best to keep your head down and get your work done well. You want to impress the team on your first case back to show them you still have what it takes, that you deserve to be here.

You have pictures of the missing girls spread in front of you, and you take your time to study their physicality, to pick out any similarities they share to suggest why they may have been singled out. Your keen eye for detail hasn't deteriorated in the past five years, and you're able to make a list of all physical similarities before you move onto other types of similarities.

While you try your best to focus solely on your work, it's hard to concentrate when Spencer is so close. He's too close for comfort, you can smell his cologne and all you want to do is to be wrapped up in his arms so you can fully appreciate how good he smells. You want to bury your face into the curve of his neck, to feel his skin on yours.

Truthfully, after things ended with you and Spencer, you couldn't bring yourself to let another man touch you. The thought of anyone's hands on you except for Spencer's made you nauseous. You only want him to know your body like that, and beyond the physicality, Spencer knows you on such a deeply intellectual level, an intimate level.

Your gaze travels from your list to his back, watching as he pushes pins into a map. His shoulders strain against the button up, showing you that's he's put on some muscle. It looks good on him, everything about him looks good. It's hard to believe that this is the same man you had planned your life with.

He abruptly turns around from the board, and you're caught red-handed. His eyes immediately find yours that are already trained on him. The expression on his face is unreadable, you silently beg for him to say something, anything, even if it is a criticism. You just need to hear his honeyed, smooth voice say your name. You see him swallow before he clears his throat and returns to his work.

Your throat constricts and you hastily stand from your seat, needing some fresh air. You push past officers walking down the hall and practically run outside. Once the sunshine hits your skin, you try to take some breaths and calm your racing mind. Where your mind should be occupied on the case, the only thing you can think of is Spencer.

Maybe your love for the job just isn't going to be enough for you to get through this.

While standing outside to regain your wits, the team returns and Hotch looks at you with confusion. In fact, they all do, but Hotch is the only one to say something.

"Why are you out here? Is everything okay?" He looks over you and can probably easily see indications of stress. But you hope to stave him off, and downplay the situation.

"I'm fine, just needed some fresh air is all." You smile up at him, really trying to sell your story as the truth. You definitely can't tell him you almost regret being reinstated.

"Yeah, okay. Well, we need you inside to review everything." From the sound of his voice you know he doesn't buy it, but doesn't push the matter any further.

The pit in your stomach returns as you realize you only have a portion of the victimology done. You should have it nearly completed but you couldn't focus for more than five minutes. Internally, you kick yourself and start figuring out what explanation you're going to give.

The entire team crowds in a small conference room within the precinct, ready to debrief on today's findings. Those working in the field speak up first, lending their theories about what kind of person we're looking for. But you already know the kind of monster you're looking for, it's the same as the man you shot.

Your turn comes around and you let out a sigh. Maybe you can blame your rusty skills on the suspension. They might buy it.

"The victims, as we know, are all within the same age range as each other with similar physical features. It's likely that these victims remind the unsub of someone he has a history with." You begin your on-the-fly analysis and hope they can't see right through you. Knowing you still have work to do, you finish with telling them you're wrapping up the additional research. Thankfully, they all receive your answer well.

You turn from the board to take your seat again, meeting Spencer's eyes once more. You can't tell if he's unimpressed or if he's inside his own mind. Quite frankly, you'd rather not know. The thought of him being unimpressed with you feels like a hot iron being pushed through your torso because you remember how euphoric it felt to receive his praise.

-----

"You know I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself." You fight off a laugh, watching your boyfriend scramble for the documents on your desk. He's insisting that he finish your reports so the two of you can go home early. The thought is nice, but you feel bad for him having to do more work.

"I know you can do it and that you'll do it perfectly, but I want to." He says, finally grabbing the file from your hand. With a huff, you let him take the victory and stand from your seat, going to return your dirty mug to the break room.

When you come back into the bullpen, you can't help but to admire how handsome Spencer is. The angles of his nose and jaw are perfection, and his curly brown hair is the softest you've ever felt. After two years of being together, you have yet to find a flaw.

You perch yourself on the edge of his desk, watching his scribbled handwriting fly across the page. As long as Hotch doesn't catch on that Spencer's doing your work, you suppose you can let him finish it this once. While he works to finish the report, your fingers rake through his hair, eager to go home for the night.

You don't really feel like going out, you're tired from the return back to Quantico today and so you hope Spencer doesn't mind staying in. You'll let him pick the movie, and you'll make his favorite dessert; it'll be a picture perfect evening together.

After he's done, you two walk hand in hand down to your car, and you make the familiar trip to Spencer's apartment. Well, to your apartment as well. The two of you had agreed that it makes more financial sense for you to move in with him, and so you did without a second thought.

As the sun sets, casting a warm golden glow throughout the apartment, you close your eyes and snuggle into Spencer's side. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head and reminds you of what a good job you did on the case. The simple moments like these are your favorite, where the two of you are content with just the presence of the other.

-----

Hours later, you're still at the precinct trying to get the victimology done before going back to the hotel. You were hoping Spencer would've left with the rest of the team, but he insisted that he still has work to do. So it's just the two of you working in strained silence.

Every once in a while you glance up at him, only to see that he's engrossed in his work. The familiar crinkle of his eyebrows is prominent as he studies the map in front of him, and you know that before too long he'll reach the conclusion he's looking for. His mind works in mysterious ways that you can't even begin to comprehend.

Not wanting to be caught staring again, you put pen to paper and write out your thoughts and theories. You know that the unsub is physically weak because he's decided to go after young girls and that the unsub is likely a staff member or someone trusted, seeing as how the girls all vanished on school grounds without a commotion. Your pen taps the table as your brain works to flesh out a better profile of the unsub.

About an hour later, your mind is exhausted and you know that even if you stay up trying to figure it out that you won't be able to come up with anything good. Your brain needs a break from critical thinking. You tuck the contents of the file inside rather haphazardly, the thought of a hotel bed is enticing, so enticing that you almost forget Spencer is here with you; that is until you hear him call your name. Feeling as if a weight had been dropped into your stomach, you swallow your nerves and turn to face him. His doe eyes look soft, unlike the guarded expression he wore earlier.

"Yeah?" You ask, thankful your voice doesn't show him how nervous you are. He places the cap back on his marker and rolls up the maps he was working on. With each step that he takes closer to you, your heart thumps harder until he's right in front of you, within your arm's reach.

"It's late, you shouldn't walk back to the hotel alone." He states in a soft tone. Everything within you wants to accept his offer immediately, but the guarded part of you won't let you. Within the last five years you and Spencer had been separated, you had become hyper-independent; and now that part is trying to take control in order to spare your feelings.

"I should be okay, it's only a few blocks away. I wouldn't want to interrupt your work." You say and adjust the grasp you have on your file, going to step away from him. The second your head turns, you feel his hand wrap around your arm gently. His hand is warm, and familiar.

"I've been done with my work for the last two hours." He admits, and your eyebrows crease together.

"Then why stay here? You could've gone back with the team." The confusion is prominent in your voice. It just doesn't make sense, and Spencer is a man that prides himself on making logical choices. He licks his lips, a nervous habit you had picked up during your first year on the team.

"Well I just- I just needed to make sure that you got back alright." You can see the insecurity from the slouch in his shoulders and his stumbling of words. Your throat is dry, and you feel yourself start panicking. You don't know what to do. A part of you just wants to kiss him but the other part remembers the look on his face when he called your actions stupid.

"Hotch reinstated me, I have my gun back. I'll be okay." You reason with him, eyes darting down to the holster on your hip.

"I know that. But, please, just let me walk you back." He practically begs. You know you don't have a good reason to tell him no, other than for selfish reasons. So you just nod, and he follows you out of the precinct.

The streetlights offer a good amount of light, and the critters in the trees hoot and chirp around, bringing life to the dark. Besides the wildlife, your footsteps are the only other thing to be heard. That is, unless he can hear how your heart is about to beat out of your chest. Never in this lifetime did you ever think this scenario was plausible, yet here you are. Walking side by side with Spencer as if you two didn't once share everything under the sun. As you walk back, you know your time is limited, and there's one burning question you've wanted to ask.

"Spencer, why didn't you tell me that the team had found those girls the next day?" Your voice is hoarse from how dry your throat is, and Spencer slows his pace. He looks down to the sidewalk and licks his lips before answering.

"I didn't think you would want me to contact you. You left your key on the counter and packed a bag, I knew you weren't coming back." His voice is quiet and sounds pained. Your pace slows to match his.

"I mean, I had just shot a man and you told me I was stupid." You point out, vividly recalling the sound of his hand coming into contact with the countertop. Your heart shatters a little more each time you think about it. It's still hard to believe that your loving Spencer was capable of being so angry with you. Glancing from the sidewalk to Spencer's face, you don't miss how his lower lash line looks wet. His hands are tucked into his pockets, eyes glued to the pavement, until they snap up and see you standing there, illuminated only by the streetlamp.

"You weren't stupid. You did what you had to do to save the girl. I was just scared. I was so scared of what they were going to do to you. They suspended you and I didn't know if it was going to end there. I thought maybe that they might even press criminal charges." He tells you, and while it makes sense, it still doesn't justify his actions in your mind.

"I was scared out of my mind. That was the first person I ever killed." You tell him, aware that he already knows that. But if you all are rehashing the past, why not bring it up? You'd be lying if you said you weren't trying to slightly guilt trip him.

"I should have been there for you, no matter what they were going to do. I panicked and made you leave your home." His voice cracks and you feel your own voice constrict. Your free hand balls into a fist to keep yourself from reaching out to him and comforting him.

"You had to protect yourself too. If you defended me too much, you could've been facing suspension as well." You had thought over the entire scenario every day for the last five years and know that part of his reaction was likely to protect himself as well. It hurts, but you understand. The job is everything to him.

"I would have rather been suspended than lose you." A lone tear drips down his cheekbone. Your brain feels like it's short circuiting from trying to keep up with everything that he's telling you. But you recognize the gravity of the situation you're in and you know that this is your chance to start making amends or burn the remnants.

"Spencer. This is, this is a lot-" You start speaking but he's cutting you off.

"Please, take your time and think about it. I'll give you all the time in the world if that's what you need." His words bring some relief, the pressure of making an on-the-fly decision while mentally exhausted is alleviated, but you know you're going to have to figure things out soon.

The two of you walk back to the hotel in silence, save for a sniffle here and there from Spencer. You decide that you'll work this case and go back to Quantico, and by then you should have your mind made up. He walks you to your door and bids you a goodnight before returning to his own room. As he walks down the hall, a small part of you already knows what decision you're going to make.

-----

The team had the case solved in three days. It was easy enough, the unsub practically singled himself out in staff interviews and the girls were all found alive, thankfully. He had been keeping them in a cellar attached to his house, bound and gagged. You're glad this one ended without incident, and you're grateful to see the reunification of the girls with their parents.

But, the job never stops, and so the team loads back onto the jet to Quantico. You feel Spencer's eyes on you for the entire ride back, but you do your best to ignore him. You had your mind made up, but you just weren't sure of what you wanted to say and you knew that if you looked at him that you would give yourself away. The perfect words are needed to fully express your sentiments, it needs to be done right. Plus, he said you had all the time in the word. But, the part of you that's missed him for the last five years is becoming very impatient and you know you're going to tell him soon.

As the team disembarks from the jet, talking about their weekend plans, you come up with what you believe is a good idea. The team waltzes into the office and conducts their investigation reports, excited to start their weekend while you fill your file out with the utmost haste, you practically buzz with anticipation.

"You got a hot date to get to or something?" You hear Derek ask you, gaining the attention from some of the others, Spencer included. Your eyes bounce from him back to Derek and you shake your head.

"Oh, no I just want to get it all on paper before I forget." You lie, probably very unsuccessfully judging by the look Derek gives you, but he drops it. Within seconds, he's back to talking about his plans to Emily.

Twenty minutes later and you're practically running out of the office and to your apartment. Before you carry out your idea you want to make sure you look your best. So you take your time to shower, do your hair, and pick out a flattering outfit. If everything goes accordingly, this could very well be the start of a new beginning.

-----

Standing outside of an all too familiar door, you knock before you can talk yourself out of it. You hear footsteps on the other side, and within seconds, the door swings open. Spencer stands in the doorway, looking as if he's seen a ghost. His mouth drops open and he blinks at you a few times.

"Can I come in?" You ask, knocking him out of his daze. He nods enthusiastically,

"Yes, of course." He opens the door wider for you and you step over the threshold.

The apartment is almost exactly how you left it. In fact, you see that your belongings are still on display. Your favorite blanket is draped over the couch, the rug you had picked out is splayed underneath the coffee table, and the artwork you had chosen still adorns the walls. You figured he would've thrown everything of yours out. He comes to stand beside you, watching your reaction as you take it all in.

"I couldn't bring myself to change anything. I hoped that one day you would come back." He says, looking down at you. The eyes that meet yours are the same ones that you looked to for comfort, all that time ago, and are now finding a new comfort from them.

"I figured it would all be gone." You admit and take one more look around. He shakes his head.

"Would you like some coffee? I have the blend from the shop down the street." Spencer offers, heading towards the kitchen. Your heart swells knowing that he still gets coffee from your favorite shop. He had never been the biggest fan of their particular blend, but he still got it because he knew it was your favorite. And it seems like he never stopped getting it.

"Yeah, that would be nice, thank you." As he walks off into the kitchen, you let yourself walk around to inspect the apartment some more. Your fingertips graze over the blanket on the couch and you notice that on the coffee table there's a book. But it's not just any book, it's the one you had been reading before that fateful night, and when you open it, you see that the bookmark is still there, left at the exact spot you had left off.

Spencer walks back into the room and sees you holding the book. He puts the coffee down on the table and licks his lips, watching as your eyes scan the page. You close the book and put it down, taking a spot on the couch. It's still just as comfortable as you remember. Wanting to enjoy the nostalgia and old comforts, you take your time sipping on the coffee, reminiscing.

"You know, I never thought I'd ever leave this place." You speak, looking out of the window, seeing traffic passing by. The last bit of coffee makes its way down your throat and you know you've stalled for long enough.

"I never wanted you to leave." Spencer says after a few moments of silence. You set the cup on the coffee table and look over at him. He's taken a spot on the opposite side of the couch. Your heartstrings tug and you begin questioning why this all had to happen in the first place.

"You told me you would give me all the time I needed." You start your well-rehearsed rhetoric, and he nods.

"As long as you need." His voice is soft and genuine. You feel your fingertips buzz with anxiety, and you pick at the seams of your pants, trying to alleviate the jittering.

"I've taken as long as I needed. Well, I've actually taken more time than I needed but I wanted to be sure of what I was choosing." You feel your hands start to shake, you're not sure why you're so nervous. This is your Spencer. But it feels like the first time meeting him all over again. His eyes are intently on you, studying every micro expression.

"And?" He swallows hard, eyes growing slightly wider. You break his gaze and look around the cozy apartment. This feels like home.

"And I feel like the last five years I've been wandering with no destination. I got a new job, new apartment, but it all felt temporary. And I was never sure why. I tried to replace everything, furniture, new books, all of it; but it never felt like mine." You explain, taking the long route to the point.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you. The energy between the two of you is practically buzzing with nervousness.

"But I guess what I'm trying to say is that this feels like home. Being here, with you, feels like home." Your bottom lip quivers as the words pass your lips. Thinking the words and saying they hold two very different gravities.

Spencer's shoulder visibly relax and he lets out a breath. He smiles widely at you, tears threatening to spill over onto his face. You feel your own eyes water, and the hole in your heart feels as if a little of it is mending.

"It doesn't feel like home without you." He says and crosses the couch, pulling you into his embrace.

The feeling of his arms around you causes the withheld tears to fall, dripping down your cheek and landing on his arms. It's almost surreal that this is happening. What you thought had lost, what had slipped away from you, is returning you and allowing you to begin again.

"I am so sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean it, and I hope you know that. This doesn't even begin making up for any of it, but I will work every day to prove to you that I am better. I love you so much it hurts." Your heart swells at his words, and you know he means them. The way he's holding you is all the proof of authenticity you need.

"I love you too, I've missed you every single day." You tell him, voice breaking while you hold onto him tightly.

Your eyes close as you savor the feeling of him holding you. Spencer presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you look up at him with watery eyes.

The golden sunlight filtering in from the window illuminates his glistening honey eyes. Your hand comes up and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. Gently, your thumb caresses his cheekbone, appreciating his beauty up close once more.

When his eyes open, finding you staring back at him, it's like Spencer has his own gravitational pull. Before you know it, he's tucking your hair behind your ear and holding your face, bringing you closer to him. After five long years of waiting for this moment again, your lips finally meet his.

It's just like the first kiss you ever shared. You're nervous, but full of excitement for the future. You can't possibly imagine anything ending between the two of you again. And sure, it might take time to heal each other, but you're finally back home where you belong and that's good enough for now.

Spencer deepens the kiss, and you smile into it, already falling back into pattern with ease. It's like the two of you were made for each other; two halves of one whole.

When your lungs beg for oxygen, you break away from him with warm, swollen lips and rosy cheeks. Leaning your forehead against his, your adjust so that he's laying back against the armrest and your situated between his legs, your back to his chest.

There are no words to bring justice to the fullness you feel. The hole that was created when you walked out of that door is filling itself back in with each second you spend in his arms. You're content for the first time in a long time.

As you lean your head back against his chest, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this is just the beginning of a long, fulfilling life with Spencer. He presses a soft kiss to the side of your face, whispering to you that he loves you once more.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fandom #mgg #matthew gray gubler #Spotify

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howlinchickhowl · 1 month

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It's posting day for my @gallavichthings Gift Exchange gift! I got @rayrayor and I wrote a little something for their prompt about Mickey being a 'straight' patron of Ian's gay bar. Happy gift exchange, I hope you enjoy it!

(There's no warnings and it's fairly PG)

You're Like In Love With Me - a gallavich a.u. fiction 🫶

Someone at the brewery has it in for Ian, he’s decided. They’ve assigned him the world’s weediest delivery guy, who manages to shift one keg for every seven Ian hauls off his truck, and always gets to Ian ‘after lunch’, which, tends to be closer to dinner than lunch in Ian’s opinion, and leaves him very little time to get everything stocked and inventoried and get a break in before the evening rush starts.

He’s sweating buckets as he waves the guy off and staggers back out into the main bar for some ice water. He rounds the bar and snags a dishcloth from Joni who wrinkles their nose up at him as he swipes it over his forehead and the back of his neck.

Joni doesn’t sweat, it’s a point of pride for them. Ian isn’t sure if they actually aren’t capable of sweating, or if they just avoid any activity that could possibly cause them to perspire. If he was at home with his siblings, Ian would shake his head like a wet dog, sending droplets flying all over every surface and into the faces of any person standing close enough. But last year when he took over from Gigi she made him sit through like thirty hours of online health and safety and food hygiene training, and there is an open container of cut limes on the back bar that he can’t in good conscience condemn with his bodily fluids. So he holds himself back and focuses on getting himself a drink and trying not to be too obvious about checking out his favorite regular.

Mickey Milkovich has been coming to The Scratching Post since before Ian’s time, before it was ever even a gay bar, according to the man himself. When he was a kid, before the neighborhood ‘went to shit’ – Mickey’s colorful way of saying got gentrified by the u-haul lesbians and professional gays – it was something of a slum. And Mickey grew up a regular little slumdog. Before The Scratching Post was The Scratching Post, it was The Alibi Room, and the way Mickey tells it, it was basically his dad’s office. He’s told Ian stories about how he used to sit in one of the booths and watch his dad take book or make deals, how he got his first tattoo from the owner’s cousin who was trying to rustle up enough bail money to get her boyfriend out of jail after he shot up their apartment during a bad trip. How his older brother lost his virginity in the upstairs room when it was a short-lived brothel. How the whole fabric of his life is tied up in this place, like he’s just as much a part of it as the stains on the carpet that they’ve never bothered to change.

So now that Mickey is out of prison (attempted murder, but according to Mickey it was a trumped up bullshit charge and if he wanted to murder someone he would fucking succeed) and back living in the house he grew up in, he likes to drink in his neighborhood bar, even if it’s turned into some sort of haven for the L-G-B-T-Q-Whatever (his words). It’s home.

Ian doesn’t mind. Mickey’s a fast drinker and he can hold a lot of booze, and it never hurts to get some steady business during the day. And he likes Mickey. Kind of really likes him, actually. Sort of wouldn’t mind licking the inside of his mouth or tasting the sweat on the back of his neck. And that’s where he gets into a certain amount of trouble. Because Mickey Milkovich? Is straight.

Straight as a ramrod. Straight as a ruler. Straight as the day is long. Capital S Straight. So Ian tries not to think too much about how soft his lips look or how good he smells, and he also tries to keep it under wraps exactly how much he likes to look at the guy. He’s not gonna not look at him. But he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable in, from what Ian can gather, one of the only places he feels comfortable. And he also doesn’t want to get his ass kicked by a guy he has a crush on. He had enough of that kind of fun in high school.

So he grabs his pint of ice water and wipes his forehead with his stolen rag and he limits his glances to two seconds long with twenty second intervals. Or at least he thinks he does until Joni rolls their eyes at him and announces they are going on a smoke break, since he’s clearly gonna be there for a while anyway. He’d be annoyed but honestly, they’re right.

Mickey always sits in the same spot, on a high stool at the bar just where it’s curved around enough so that he can easily see the door but not so far that he can’t see who’s coming and going from the restroom or the back. His vigilance is quiet, but noticeable if you know what you’re looking for. Or if you just spend a lot of time looking.

He’s in his spot today, left hand curled loosely around his beer like he likes to be ready to drink at any moment, and he’s smiling down at his phone in a way that has Ian’s tummy start to fizz with little sparks of jealousy. What’s got him smiling like that? He’s desperate to know.

He doesn’t always talk to Mickey every time he comes in, he tries to show a respectful level of interest, though if you polled his employees they would probably say he fails at that. He does some quick math in his head while grabbing another rag and starting to wipe down the bar top, making his way down toward Mickey’s end. Today is Wednesday, Mickey didn’t come in yesterday, on Monday Ian kept his distance, and he hadn’t worked Sunday. That meant that their last interaction had been Saturday. Four days. That’s a decent interval, he figures, and he carries on wiping over the bar, trying to come up with a subtle way to find out what has made Mickey smile.

“That your girl?” Is what he’s got by the time he’s stood in front of Mickey, and it may not be subtle but it’s all he could think of.

“Huh?” Mickey asks, looking up.

“You uh, you look like something in your phone is making you real happy, I thought maybe it was a girl.”

“Oh, Uh.” Mickey looks down at his phone and then back up at Ian, his lips tugging down into a half frown. “No.”

He closes his phone and shoves it in his back pocket, eyes shifting around the room as he takes a sip of his beer. There’s something kind of shifty about it, like Ian’s made him uncomfortable somehow, and if Ian had more self-control he’d call this one a loss and find an excuse to leave him be. But his discipline only extends to his exercise regime and diet apparently because he finds himself unable to walk away, quietly desperate to know what Mickey had been looking at.

“So what d’you win a bet?”

Mickey huffs a laugh and sticks hi phone in his back pocket, Ian wipes a spot on the bar that he’s already wiped clean three times.

“Naw man, just a picture of my sister looking fuckin’ dumb in a squirrel hat.”

Ok. Not what Ian had been expecting.

“A…squirrel? Hat?”

“Yeah it’s for her job or whatever, she looks like a fuckin’ idiot.”

His words are harsh, but the smile that’s spreading over his lips is kind of soft, like he is actually kind of fond of his sister. Ian’s never seen him smile like that before. His smile is always kind of dirty, or wry, or sometimes bordering on a grimace, this is different, and Ian feels like he’s unlocked a new Mickey nugget. He wonders if he can get some more.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Two brothers, one sister.” He takes a gulp of his beer and then does a thoughtful little shrug. “That I know of. The way my dad was though, wouldn’t be too shocked if I got a bunch more I don’t know about.”

There’s that wry smile that Ian’s used to, with a half an eye roll that belies a lifetime of dealing with a parent who never stops disappointing you. It’s an eyeroll Ian has performed many a time himself.

“God yeah me too. I got at least one half-sister who showed up out of the blue a few years back, but I could be related to half the city for all I know.”

“Half the redheads at least.” And there’s the dirty smile. He’s mentioned Ian’s hair a few times, most people tease him about it a little, it’s no big deal. He imagines Mickey would have terrorized him if they’d known each other as kids, chasing him around calling him Carrot Top or Little Orphan Annie. This is kind of a gentle tease though, something warm, accompanied with a squint that could almost be a wink, if Mickey Milkovich was the kind of guy who winked, and it spurs Ian on.

“I knew this girl in high school, her dad had so many kids running around that she had to ask people for their family tree before she would hook up with them.”

Mickey almost chokes on his beer.

“Fuck me, should I be doing that?”

“I don’t know. She had a close call once, and her dad literally had like, thirty kids.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah, so, next time you’re lookin’ to hook up with someone, just, ask for a DNA screening first I guess.”

Mickey nods, and then the air sort of drops out of the conversation, like it has nowhere left to go. Mickey gulps the last of his beer in one huge mouthful that puffs his cheeks out and sort of makes him look like he’s chewing it, and the only thing Ian can think to say is to ask him if he wants another.

“Nah I’m good, gotta get back.” He throws some cash down on the bar to cover his tab and is out the door with his arms still shoving into his jacket before Ian can even say syanora.

And then he doesn’t come back for three weeks.

It’s not like Ian’s moping, Joni can fuck off for implying that. The bar is busy and he has a lot to do and employees to manage and siblings to deal with. But in the afternoons sometimes he’ll find himself staring at the empty space where Mickey would normally be and wondering, kind of forlornly, if the guy is ever coming back. Trying to figure out what he did or said in that last conversation that pissed him off so bad he would forsake his childhood bar.

Ian misses him. His expressive face and his disgusting sense of humour, and the way he makes Ian feel, like on edge and at ease at the same time. It just sucks, not seeing him, and not knowing why.

And then one day, three weeks and four days since The Scratching Post had last seen hide or hair of him, he’s back, sitting on his regular stool when Ian gets done mopping the bathrooms.

It gives him a jolt, a little shiver of excitement running down his spine as he shoves the mop in the corner and rounds the bar.

“Haven’t seen you around here lately.” He greets Mickey, as casually as he can, and Mickey looks up, kind of startled, and then looks down at the bar. Or. There’s a white envelope sitting there, and he seems fixated on it.

“Everything ok Mick?”

Mickey nods, a quick little jerk of a thing, eyes fixed on the envelope. He doesn’t even have a drink in front of him.

“You want a beer?”

He shakes his head, brings his right hand up to lay his fingertips over the envelope and slide it across the bar toward Ian.

“What’s this?” Ian picks it up, there’s no name on it, no details, it’s not sealed but he’s still not sure if he should open it. Mickey’s looking up at him when he’s done inspecting it.

“It’s uh.” His bright blue eyes flick away and then back again, are they wetter than usual? They seem so shiny when they finally rest back on Ian. “It’s a DNA test.”

“A DNA test?”

“Yeah. We um. We ain’t related. So.”

He raps his knuckles on the bar a couple of times in a short sharp knock that he must think serves as a suitable stop to this most bizarre of conversations, and clambers off his stool, heading for the door.

“Wait Mickey—What?!”

“Just. Read it.”

The door has barely had time to swing shut before Ian is practically tearing the envelope in his haste to look at the paper inside. It’s exactly what Mickey said, a DNA test, comparing Mickey’s DNA to his own, which, he’s gonna have to talk to him about where he got a sample of Ian’s DNA from, and confirming that there’s no overlap. In the top right corner, in a chicken scratch of a hand, Mickey has scrawled the words ‘just in case’ and then a phone number, and Ian almost drops his phone in the ice trough in his rush to pull it out of his pocket and send a text.

[2:34pm] I thought you were straight?

The reply buzzes through almost immediately, like maybe Mickey’s stood outside looking at his phone waiting to see what happens.

[2:34pm] Good.

It’s a very Mickey text, and something about it makes Ian feel warm, like he’s being trusted with something Mickey doesn’t trust a lot of people with.

[2:35pm] Where did you get a sample of my DNA??

[2:35pm] That really what you wanna be asking me right now?

[2:35pm] I’ve got a lot of things I want to ask you.

[2:36pm] So come outside, I don’t got all day.

It’s possible that Ian knocks over a stool and drops his dishcloth on the floor, he’s got bigger fish to fry.

#gallavich fic #ian x mickey #fic #GGE2024

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c-rowlesdraws · 19 days

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It’s my blog and I’ll post my dinner if I want to!! Chilled soba noodles and fried shrimp & oysters with tartar sauce!!!

(resippy below)

Fried oysters n shrimp (my nontraditional version of かきフライ/海老フライ)

Ingredience:

-however many raw oysters and shrimp u want

-enough AP flour to coat them, mixed with a sprinkle each of maras pepper/any hot pepper flakes, oregano, garlic powder, salt, and black pepper

-panko, mixed with other breadcrumbs for interesting texture if u want (I had some made from miscellaneous other bread)

-1 egg, beaten well but not foamy

Method:

-if the oysters aren’t shucked, shuck them (or ask a trusted adult if you don’t know how). Gently rinse them in cold water and drain on a paper towel.

-gently bend the raw shrimp backwards to straighten them out and blot them also with paper towel

-arrange the beaten egg, flour, and panko in 3 separate dishes that will be easy to dip and toss the seafood in

-dip each oyster and shrimp into the egg, then the flour, then the egg again, and then into the breadcrumbs, coating thoroughly and gently shaking/dusting off the excess at each step. Lightly press the breadcrumb coating with your fingers so it adheres.

-put prepared seafood in the fridge for at least an hour— chilling will help the coating firm up and adhere, so it won’t fall apart when frying.

-heat about an inch or so of neutral, high smoke point oil (like vegetable oil) in a small saucepan— you don’t need to use a ton of oil. It doesn’t even have to be enough to completely submerge the seafood. If you have a thermometer, heat it to 350 degrees Fahrenheit— if not, test the temperature by dropping in some breadcrumbs. If bubbles form around them right away with a soft bubbling sound, the oil is hot enough.

-using kitchen chopsticks or tongs or a spoon or whatever, place the oysters and shrimp in the oil, few enough at a time that they don’t crowd each other, and fry at a controlled temperature for about a minute and a half, flipping once to cook them evenly. When golden brown and crisp to the “touch”, lift them out and place on paper towels or a rack to drain and cool.

For the tartar sauce:

-with permission, take a container of extra sauce that your coworkers made from the office fridge. I didn’t make it lol. It’s got uhh lemon in it

For the soba (Japanese buckwheat noodles):

-fill a pot with enough water to fully immerse the soba and give it plenty of room to move while cooking, or the water will get too starchy and the soba might get sort of gooey (undesirable). Bring water to a boil and put in the dried soba noodles.

-lower the heat to where the noodles are gently circulating in the water, and cook until they’re done.

-strain them and rinse briskly with cold running water, then immerse them (in the strainer) in a bowl of ice water. Chilling them this way improves the texture.

-once they’re chilled, remove from the ice water and drain by hitting the bottom of the strainer against a clean folded dish towel. Arrange the soba in a bowl and top with chopped scallions, and shredded nori if you’ve got it (I do not).

-serve with a dish of zarusoba dipping sauce (store-bought) and more scallions. No, no— more scallions.

#food #catie talks #my cooking

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inthememetime · 1 year

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There are plenty of posts where Justice League and Constantine sees Danny's Ghost King Form in all of its Eldritchy glory, from on being Lightning Based to one being compared to an event horizon, as he takes down the ghost that was giving the League problems and it basically freaks them out.

So when I stumbled upon this picture

I knew that this could be an excellent form worthy of a King if it was tweaked to fit Danny with ghostly elements, and maybe ice themes sprinkled with something Space related.

Like Vortex or Undergrowth is giving the League trouble, then this thing straight out of the Old Testament shows up, takes down the Ghost, and turns back to Danny who didn't know he just melted the League's brains.

Or, maybe during The Legion of Doom / The Light tries to summon the Ghost King for power/ take over the world, and Danny comes along looking like that and scares everyone there shitless.

How do you think that will go down?

I have had this in my drafts for So Very Long... Im sorry!!!

Holy *^$π, Batman!™

I LOVE the image, and 100% agree, it's an awesome base to work off with Danny.

I think it would be hilarious. Matter of fact, I wrote a fic about it. 😁 If you have an AO3, let me know and I'll gift it to you.

Ao3 here

Be Not Afraid- or Whatever

Summary: The weather god- though Constantine swore it was 'just' a ghost- had pinned down the entire Justice League. While they'd managed to trap Vortex in a two square mile area and evacuate civilians, and even arrested the cult responsible, they in turn were trapped in a small warehouse, protected only by the blood blossom spray and salt circle Constantine made.

With no way to fight it, they had only one choice: summon another ghost. Enter Ghost King Danny Phantom, stage right.

Rain, wind, and hail pounded heavily against the metal roof and walls of the tiny back office of a warehouse.

Earlier today- just this morning, in fact- it had been a bright and warm summer day. The Flash flinched as a piece of hail broke through a window. Constantine didn't flinch, intent on his task. Superman was still unconscious, Batman picking out shards of kryptonite from a bullet that had hit its mark too well.

It was silent but for the occasional pained gasp from their Kryptonian friend, and Constantine's low mutters in what sounded like Ancient Latin to Barry's untrained ears.

Thunder roared, and the single lightbulb went out. Wordlessly, Batman cracked a pair of glowsticks, passing one to him so he could hold it up for Constantine. Clark groaned quietly.

A cult of summoners swearing fealty to Vortex, Lord of Storms, seemed easy enough to stop; Batman made the plan and coordinated with everyone. He and Superman rescued hostages and dock workers alike as Batman and Constantine took down the cult.

It was supposed to be easy. Simple. It was anything but.

The smell of the weird floral spray Constantine used- Blood Blossoms, the magic user had said- was beginning to fade. A drop of sweat fell down Constantine's face. His lips were pressed tight, white against the odd pallor of his face.

"John," Barry whispered, "how much longer?"

Another window broke. Batman swore quietly. "Good news is, we've got the blood sacrifice ready," he joked under his breath. He winced then, and pressed his hand against the bandage on his arm.

It had bled through again, but the others were needed for Clark. In a rare event, the alien was the most injured on the team.

The cultists had purchased bullets laced with kryptonite from somewhere, which didn't hurt Constantine any more than a regular one. The same couldn't be said for Clark.

The magic-user hesitated until water started to bubble underneath the door, threatening the complicated circle of chalk and blood. He spoke, and this time it wasn't in Latin. Barry couldn't recognize it.

The temperature began to drop further while the air around the man began to shimmer, almost. Ozone gathered in the air, and the darkness increased until he couldn't see anything. Even the glowstick was a pinprick of light so tiny he couldn't be sure it was real.

A low rumble sounded and a radioactive green pool started to open. One massive clawed hand grabbed the edge. Constantine's voice cracked- but didn't stop. Another hand pulled out, and another, folowed by one more.

They were white as snow up to the wrists. One massive wing shot up, far too big for the office, followed by another, both black as night and covered with starry patterns. The next thing Barry made out was a crown of twisted black iron and glittering jewels, wreathed in green flame, atop two large horns, blue like sea ice.

The figure continued to rise as John spoke, revealing a second, then third set of wings and a mane of white hair which flowed in a wind he couldn't feel. Four sets of eyes opened, some solid green and glowing, some pitch black, some solid white, and the last a myriad of colors.

The thing's face was almost tan, almost the color of mortal flesh, but green scars like lightning bolts marred it. A thud alerted him of one massive foot, then another, both white and clawed.

The rest of its body except a shining white D was black as the void. When it opened its mouth, he had to look away, unsure if he feared or loved it, found it beautiful or terrifying.

Abruptly, the light from the sticks was back. He didn't dare look at Clark or Batman to see how they were doing; every instinct said he was in front of a predator, and showing the weak of the herd would be a death sentence.

Finally, Constantine fell silent.

"What's up? Kind of a weird place for a summons, you know," it said, and Barry swallowed. It sounded like a child, an old man, a windstorm, the shriek of a blizzard, the thunder of roaring waves all at once.

"I have summoned you, King of Ghosts, to take your servant back to your realm," Constantine managed, voice only wavering a little.

It leaned forward. "And the price?"

The thing sounded almost teasing. Amused.

"What would you ask of us?"

"Autographs," it immediately said. "From Martian Manhunter, Superman, Cyborg, and Wonder Woman."

Wait. What?

"I'm a big fan," it added.

"Should all of us survive today, we will do so," he agreed.

"Sweet. Gimme like 5 minutes. Maybe 10, Vortex is a bit of a bitch. Also, be not afraid or whatever. I'm one of the good guys."

It was gone, then, and abruptly Barry sucked in a breath. Sounds of a fierce battle echoed from outside for several minutes before the storm abruptly stopped.

Slightly singed, the Ghost King returned. "Hey, does Supes over there need a doctor? I know a good one in the GZ."

He swallowed. Batman cleared his throat. "We only need to get the kryptonite out of him, he'll be fine."

"Okay!" It chirped, then reached over and, without so much as ruffling the suit, reached into the alien and pulled out a small handful of shards. "I'll be back in a few weeks for those autographs- I'd say tomorrow, but time is weird. Bye, guys!"

"Wait- can I ask for a way to contact you? If you'd be willing to help in the future," Constantine asked.

"Yeah, sure. My Chirper handle is @realdeadguy, all lowercase, no punctuation," he said, "and you can call me Phantom if you want."

"Guys!"

Sam groaned and Tucker covered his face with a pillow.

"Dude, we know you just got back from a summons, but it's 3 am."

Danny rocked back and forth, wings twitching. "I met the Justice League! They're so cool! Batman was there! Batman!!!"

"I thought you were all about Su-"

"And I saved Superman's life, isn't that awesome?! I kept the kryptonite, look, real-life rock from space!"

"Rocks aren't alive, Danny," Sam muttered. Then, a second later, "wait, what?! You met the Justice League? Was Wonder Woman there?"

"No, but I asked for an autograph."

#danny phantom #inthememetime #danny phantom au #eldritch danny #ghost king danny #vortex #constantine #dp x dc #barry allen #the flash #batman #superman

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marragurl · 2 months

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ICE UMBRELLA

LISTEN. TO. ME.

ICE

UMBRELLA

WRIOTHESLEY MAKING AN ICE UMBRELLA FOR NEUVILLETTE

SHUT UP - NO - I CAN’T -

This thought just hit me and I am writing this out of pure mania at like 2 am

We all know that the rain brings comfort to Neuvillette but is also a metaphor for his emotions yea? And everyone and their great-grandmother knows about the Umbrella Scene™ between Wriolette, I DON’T NEED TO EXPLAIN IT AGAIN-

SO PICTURE THIS

Pre- or Post- relationship, doesn’t matter, but Wriothesley knows about Neuviellete’s relationship with the rain, and how he can be found standing in it after long, difficult days in the court, but never really finds the rain itself to be a bother.

Now, he came up to see Neuvillete a bit last minute, a bit of a spontaneous choice for that day. He gets to the Opera Epiclese to try and catch Neuvillette after work before he heads back to his office. However, he’s not there, even though Wriothesley knows that the day’s trial has long gone overtime and it is nighttime already.

And then suddenly, it starts raining outside.

Aight, Wriothesley knows the drill by now, and he’s ready to get his umbrella and go out to find Neuvillette - except, drat.

He forgot it.

He can see Neuvillette’s silhouette in the dark outside, he knows where to look after so many times of this happening.

But Wriothesley didn’t get to his current position of power without some creativity on his end, a forgotten umbrella wasn’t about to stop him from reaching Neuvillette.

Cut to Neuvillette just outside in the rain, lost in his thoughts. It was a long hard trial, another gruesome showing of humanity, and he’s just trying to get his bearings under the rain.

He’s lost in thought enough to not hear the heavy boots coming up behind him, but not enough that he isn’t brought back to reality once he realizes he can’t feel the rain anymore.

It’s familiar to him, he’s gotten used to Wriothesley finding him in the rain and providing shelter with an umbrella. He finds comfort in the action, and so he turns around to once again politely thank him, even if he was perfectly fine in the rain unlike humans. He stops though when he sees Wriothesley holding what seems like a frozen handle of ice.

He follows it up only to see the thinnest layer of ice connecting it and forming a delicate canopy over the pair.

He can see the faint swirls of frost patterns at the top, as well as still see the raindrops forming and sliding off the edges.

A beautiful umbrella made of ice is above them, sheltering them from the rain yet still allowing Neuvillette to enjoy the weather.

The rain clouds cover just enough of the sky for it to be dark while they also stand quite away from the Opera to be out of the light. It’s not the same sort of privacy as Wriothesley’s usual dark umbrella, but there’s something enchanting in being able to see the rain from above as light bits of snow fall off from the edges of the umbrella, surrounding them in a different barrier from the outside world.

They spend a while in comfortable silence under the umbrella, taking in the sound of nature as the rest of the world seems to fall away.

Idk wtf just happened. I blinked and suddenly this was all written.

I JUST WANTED TO RANT ABOUT HOW PRETTY AND THOUGHTFUL IT WOULD BE IF WRIOTHESLEY ACTUALLY USED HIS POWERS FOR A PRETTY ICE UMBRELLA, I DIDN’T MEAN TO WRITE A FICLET!!

I guess if we’re here-

I just like the idea of Wriothesley still wanting to keep Neuvillette company in the rain, but he’s still a human who can catch a cold under the rain. But he also knows Neuvillette likes the rain and the cold, so he makes an umbrella made of thin ice, so it still allows Neuvillette to feel the cold and see the rain while keeping Wriothesley dry (AND I’M A SUCKER FOR WATER AND ICE PAIRS USING THEIR POWERS TOGETHER. NEUVI AND WRIO DANCING ON WATER WHILE WRIO MAKES ICE FLOORS AND NEUVI MAKES PRETTY WATER MOVES AROUND THEM??? YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS)

Give me Wriothesley and Neuvillette using their powers to be thoughtful of each other while still keeping their boundaries, give me loving verbal AND non-verbal communication showing how well they know and care for each other!

#genshin impact #wriolette #wriothesley #neuvillette #wriothesley genshin #neuvillette genshin #ficlet #writing #ICE UMBRELLA #SEE MY VISION #PLZ #I NEED MORE ART OF WRIOLETTE USING THEIR POWERS TOGETHER #HYDRO AND CRYO DUO #i need more #everyday I wake up and go: is this the day I stop thinking about wriolette?#the answer is no

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lyralit · 2 years

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ꜰɪꜰᴛʏ ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡɪᴘ

a modern-day city: flashy signs, culture, people

a countryside town: farms, markets, fresh air

a school: students, uniforms, classes

a small house: shared rooms, large meals, family games

a large house: empty halls, quiet nights, loneliness

a swim meet: slick floors, loud whistles, team cheers

a workplace: offices, papers, chaos

a blog: curated posts, a careful eye, also chaos

a government facility: taps of shoes, brisk orders, sharpness

a farm: fields and haystacks, ladders, checkered tablecloths

a ship: the sunset on water, crashing waves, sliding cutlery

a ball: swishing gowns, champagne flutes, lilting music

a club: the press of bodies, pounding music, hoarse voices

a kid's party: a character appearance, ice-cream cake, colourful balloons and stacks of presents

a medieval castle: rich silks, red wine, bustling people

a cottage in the woods: soft birdsong, quiet chores, open lake

a space station: dark abyss, beeping machines, emptiness

a superhero facility: training grunts, advanced tech, posters

a football game: spotlights, cheers, divided colours

a movie theatre: quiet giggles, spilled popcorn, sticky hands

a tennis match: bonk, bonk, bonk

a dingy basement: a lighter, a coil of rope, a can of oil

a restaurant (customer): close tables, quiet chatter, That One Screaming Kid

a restaurant (worker): stacking orders, clinking coins, greasy floors

a flower shop: cloying sweetness, dampness, the crinkle of plastic

a grocery store: the squeal of cart wheels, scrape of boxes, crackle of the announcements

a witch hut: bubbling cauldron, bright potions in round bottles, funky jars of ingredients

a bakery: fresh bread, tinkling bells, morning sun

a ruin: dust, beating sun, crumbling rock

a wedding: smashed cake, white lace, cheers

a cliff: crashing waves, swaying reeds, sharp rocks

a concert: nicest clothes, gilded halls, the sound of music

a bank vault: beeping alarms, flashing lights, piles of coins

a sauna: slick tiles, misted mirrors, stifling air

a mine: scuttling rocks, the clank of picks, cool breeze

a cruise ship: bouncy music, sound of laughter, ocean wind

a diner: neon lights, booths, milkshakes with a straw and cherry

a garden: soft breeze, shifting leaves, green flowers

a graveyard: crunch of stones, eerie lighting, the whisper of trees

a house party: clink of glasses, soft voices, flowery perfume

a family dinner: roaring laughter, grabby children, sense of warmth

a foreign planet: rising smoke, hissing steps, green faces

a prison: scratches on walls, thumps of boots, creaking of cots

a jungle: cry of birds, rustling of trees, patter of rain

a gaming room: click of keyboards, flash of lights, scroll of mouses

a forest: howl of wolves, whistle of wind, crunch of underbrush

a waiting room: tick of the clock, tapping of feet, flip of magazines

a lounge: jazzy music, gilded mirrors, plush chairs

a sporting event: cheering crowds, bags of snacks, flashing videos

a fantasyland: roar of dragons, clank of metal armour, thump of horse hooves

#story settings #lyralit #writerblr #creative writing #writers #writblr #writing #writers block #writing ideas #writing prompts #readerblr #writing prompt

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ihavethedreamies · 2 months

Text

Pool Boy (2) | Taehyun

Kang Taehyun - TXT

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~2.9k -3-

Pairing: Taehyun x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Porn with very little Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Small Age Difference (Unspecified, he calls her Noona), Pet Names (Princess, Noona, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! Receiving), Deepthroating/Face-Fucking, Semi-Public Sex (at work but in a bathroom), Unprotected Sex (Use a condom! She's on the pill)

Summary: You and Taehyun just couldn't hold back from each other despite the pool still being open. Luckily, you get to sneak away. There is a very slight amount of plot but it's not really consequential, just flirting.

Author's Note: This originally was going to be part of a really long series with a lot of plot, but it was taking too long and I was putting too much plot, more than I had initially planned. Because of that, I cut nearly all plot out and it's still three-thousands words of just fucking so…

None of the parts are reliant on the others, there is just a version for each boy.

-> Yeonjun <-

-> Soobin <-

-> Hueningkai <-

-> Beomgyu <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

You were working in the front office of the pool, taking admission. You had been talking to Taehyun about some random stuff till your ex came up. Normally it would get you mad, but you felt more sorrowful. In comfort, he stood up and came over to you. You looked at him in curiosity as he stood between your legs. Your head had to tilt up some to see his face due to his height. As his hand came to rest on the back of your stool, you glanced out to the parking lot through your peripheral vision and saw no one. You two were hidden from the rest of the shelter by the wall. Taehyun halted, his lips hovering over yours, but he didn't kiss you. You clicked your tongue and initiated instead, and he immediately reciprocated. His hands came to your waist, and you were glad the stool had a back that you could lean in to. Your own hands came up to dance over his ribs, the skin revealed by his cut open shirt. He must have heard something you didn't, because he pulled away from the kiss abruptly, but he didn't step too far back.

"Do you need any help?" You heard a coworker speak out, and you let Taehyun go so he could step back and into view. It was fairly obvious he had to have been really close to you when the other person got close enough to look into the front office.

"No, we got it." He answered. When the other worker left, he apologized for answering for you.

"That's okay…" You drifted off, fingers rubbing your bottom lip again, remembering his soft lips against your chapped ones.

"Oh, geez." You grunted, noticing the ice in your coffee had already melted so when you took a sip it was a little watered down. It did help with the extra shot of espresso, so it wasn't horrible. Your stomach grumbled as well.

"You hungry?" Taehyun asked, reaching for his bag.

"Yeah, I grabbed something." You waved him off and grabbed your banana and granola bags from your own bag. Not even thinking, you unpeeled the banana and stuck the tip in your mouth. Taehyun's eyes fixed on your lips wrapped around the yellow fruit as you began to eat it. Feeling his gaze on you, your own flicked to him and you scoffed playfully.

"What a dude you are." You teased and instead of getting embarrassed, he scoffed back.

"What else was I supposed to think?"

"Hmm…" You looked away, coyly placing the banana back into your mouth, and proceeded to suck nearly the whole thing in at once. Glancing back at him playfully the look on his face floored you. He was just smirking, and you could tell the smug bastard was about to say something dirty. You took the banana out of your mouth and then broke a piece off to eat waiting for his comment.

"You want something bigger and better, hm?" He raised his brow and you gaped at him. Letting the peel flop over onto the fruit, you chucked it in the trash.

"Hey, Brandi?" You got off the stool and called over another coworker as she was coming in from the drink bar.

"Yeah?" She came over and Taehyun followed you as you went to her.

"I am going to do something extremely against the rules, but I need you to cover for me." you whispered to her, and she tossed a look at the boy behind you.

"Oh." She chuckled, nodding in approval.

"Can you?"

"Girl, its fine, you really think no one hasn't snuck off before?" she asked, and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion at her.

"Hmm, we'll touch on that later. I'm taking him into the back restroom, and you will cover the desk, m'kay?" you asked, and she gave you a thumbs up. She walked past you two to do so, and you went to him, taking his hand and leading him.

"Where are we going?" His tone was playful, getting an idea. You unlocked the back office, then went in without turning on the light. You unlocked the unmarked door and dragged him in, letting it close before you turned the light on. The vent fan kicked in and the light flickered on. Unlike the somewhat run-down restrooms the guests used, this bathroom was nice and looked like it was in a nice house. Plus, the fan would mask any noise. Taehyun caught on quick and stepped closer, you grabbed his shirt and spun him around, backing him into the counter of the sink.

"(Y/N)?" He smirked and you stood on your tip toes so you could whisper in his ear.

"You got something bigger and better I can swallow?" you asked, and he groaned, you could feel it rumble through his chest.

"Is that what you want?"

"Fuck, yes." You snuck your hands under his shirt and over the hard ridges of his stomach and up to his chest. He pushed you back a bit so he could take it off and you openly ogled him.

"Oh, my, god." You whined and he laughed smugly.

"You can do whatever you want with me, princess." He spoke, leaning in and you kissed him again. The pet-name didn't sound condescending or arrogant, it was like it was your title. Taehyun's strong hands went to your ass, sliding his hands in your back pockets, digging his fingers into the flesh of your butt through the fabric. The strength in his grip made you gasp.

"That hurt?" He pulled back from the kiss."

"Fuck, no." You pulled him back in, tasting his tongue and he sucked on yours. As he pulled away, he sucked your bottom lip then smirked.

"I've been waiting to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you till you couldn't see straight…but your idea is nice too." His hand came to your face and his thumb rubbed over your chapped bottom lip. You gave him your own smirk, and he let you go, allowing you to sink to your knees in front of him. The way he looked down at you made you shudder; you could tell that he would be more dominating just from his personality. Once you were settled on the cold tile floor, your mouth watered, he was already hard underneath his red swim trunks.

"Go ahead, princess." He leaned back against the counter, ready to just let you take the reins. He had to admit, it was incredibly arousing seeing you on the floor, ready to suck his cock. Even more so that you suggested it. Your hands went to the waist band, and you carefully pulled it away and let the garment fall to the floor.

"Oh, Tae~" His cock was so pretty, and thick. Not for sure your jaw could stay open so wide for so long, you shrugged then began to take the head into your mouth. He sighed as you swirled your tongue over him, and you whined at the taste of him.

"I taste good, princess?" He teased and he rolled his eyes back as you hummed in agreement and took him deeper into your mouth. If you liked sucking his cock, he would let you do it all you wanted. He honestly wasn't expecting you to respond that way to his joke though.

"Ah, fuck, noona~" He sighed again as you managed to fit him in your mouth all the way till he hit the back of your throat. You shot your eyes up to look at his face, the confident look was still painted there despite the red tint on his cheeks. While making eye contact, you saw his slight shock when you continued, letting his cock bury in your throat. He actually moaned that time, though softly. Your nose pressed to his skin above his cock, and you swallowed around him. If you were controlling your own movements, you could hold your gags back. When you were finally needing more air, you pulled back, sucking hard, then descended again. Your hands rested on his upper thighs and his hips jumped suddenly, burying him deeper in your mouth. That made your cunt pulse and you looked to his face again.

"Sorry…" He huffed and you pulled off him all the way and shook your head, stroking him with your fist.

"You wanna take over?" You questioned, kitten licking the tip of him.

"Are you sure?" He ran his hand over your hair, and you nodded. The hand on your head buried into your hair then and he took over. Taehyun slipped his cock past your lips, and you braced yourself on the floor and he began to fuck into your mouth. You were going to be the death of him, and he would welcome it. When he fully sheathed himself, you gagged slightly, but you were taking him so well. His hand rested lightly on your throat, he could feel it swell with his dick and he grunted, already feeling close.

"Princess, I'm going to cum-" He groaned, ready to pull back, wanting to see his cum paint your face. Though, he was far from disappointed when your hands on his thighs gripped, making sure he stayed where he was. This threw him over the edge, and he felt you swallow around him as you took each pump of his cum. You could feel your cunt pulse with arousal, the fabric of your panties sticking to your folds. Slowly, you pulled off his cock, he was still half hard. You cleaned the rest of the cum from him with your tongue and you sat back as he recovered.

"You like that?" He chuckled and you nodded with a coy hum.

"You tired?" You tossed back and he hummed himself.

"Come bend over here and I'll show you," he patted the counter, and you giddily did so. He moved to stand behind you, shoving his discarded trunks across the floor with his foot. Taehyun wrapped his hands around your waist and rubbed the skin there before helping you remove your top. He swiftly removed your bra as well as you undid your shorts. After your remaining garments hit the floor, he pressed on your back and your chest landed on the cold counter.

"You're fucking soaked." He cooed as his fingers stroked through your dripping folds. You whined and the tip of his finger circled your entrance before he buried two inside you. He immediately set a relentless pace, crooking, and wiggling his fingers against your gummy walls. In the mirror above the counter, you could see when he removed his fingers, he brought them to his lips and sucked your cum off his fingers. His eyes met yours in the reflection and he smirked, grabbing you at your hips and lining his cock head up with your cunt.

"Get ready princess." At least he warned you. Your cunt fluttered as he fucked himself as deep as he could in a swift thrust, but it wasn't rough. He sat inside you, brow furrowed for a short time, reveling in feeling your pulse, heat, and wetness around his dick. Despite him being the shortest of his friend group, he was still much bigger than you. Deep inside he looped on the thought of holding you close, enveloping you in his arms, but in that moment, he was dwelling on watching your cute little cunt swallow his fat cock. Your mind was focused on trying not to clench around him too tight. Despite your dripping wetness, the stretch burned but you loved it. You were able to feel the ridges and veins of his cock as he started to pull out, before giving a shallow thrust.

"Fuck!" You gasped at the power he put in his hips, and he chuckled as you rested your head onto your folded arms. If you had ever thought another guy had fucked you hard, you were in for a ride. You were expecting him to start slower, gentler, but no. His thrusts immediately were punishing, pulling out a little over halfway before his hips snapped, he hit your sweet spot every time. His blunt nails dug into the skin of your ass, and you were having trouble catching your breath, your fingers now wrapped around the lip of the counter. Your orgasm rose quickly, out of nowhere, and he just barreled through it. Tears sprung to your eyes as the force of your climax, and he grunted as the vice of your cunt tightened further. He was somewhat merciful, slowing down, staying deep but barely pulling out. He grinded his pubic bone into you each time and you were still quivering, aftershocks radiating through you. After your cunt stopped squeezing so tight, he pulled out.

"What?" You were quickly spun around, and he lifted you onto the counter, pulling your legs around his waist as he sheathed fully into you again. You threw your head back, the crown hitting the cool mirror behind you. Taehyun loved seeing your bare form in front of him like this, a healthy blush painted over your face, neck, and chest. Your nipples were hard, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. As he got as deep as he could he marveled at the sight of your folds straining around him.

"T-Taehyun~" You moaned, trying to stay a little quieter even with the vent fan running.

"You're taking my cock so good, princess." He praised; the little compliment making you twitch around him. His knee hit the wooden cupboard door under the counter, and he hiked one of your legs over his arm to get a better angle. You nearly screamed as he fucked into you, he was forced to seal his mouth of yours to muffle your noises. The kiss was messy, drool dripping down from your mouth as his tongue wrestled yours. He wanted so badly to latch onto your shoulder, bite and suck till he left a mark, proving that he had done it. You were still white knuckling the counter, but he grabbed your arm and helped guide you to hold onto him instead. He groaned as your fingers buried in his hair, tugging slightly. If only he wasn't a lifeguard, otherwise he would love to feel your nails dig lines into the skin on his back. One day, he would let your scratch and bite him all over, and he would suck and nibble all over you. Taehyun pulled away from the kiss and your tongue stuck out of your mouth some, you looked completely fucked out.

"Want me to come inside, hm?" His thrusts were losing a consistent rhythm, and if anything, got harder.

"Y-y-yes!" You whined, wanting it so bad. You would never straight out admit to having a creampie kink, but you sure did.

"On…pill!" Your gasp was forced out by an even harder thrust from him.

"Then take it, princess." he whispered in your ear, grunted, sighed, and filled you. This threw you over the edge yourself and he smirked, feeling your cunt squirt with your orgasm. Good thing you were in a bathroom because you made a mess all over him. He was a little worried he overdid it since you still had to go back out and work the rest of the day.

"You okay?" He asked, slowly pulling his softening cock out of you. You nodded with a whine, still looking dazed. There was a private shower in there, it was still at a pool after all, and he decided to make use of it. He turned the water on and let it get warm before he went back to you, still panting.

"Come here, princess." He easily picked you up and brought you to the running water. He made sure you could stand okay on your own and you both took a quick rinse off to remove all traces of sex.

"You squirted on me." He huffed and you turned to him, mortified.

"I did?!" You knew that orgasm felt different but didn't know that's what had happened. You did tend to get extremely wet, but that was new.

"Yes," he kissed your cheek, making it flush red, "you look so cute falling apart on my cock." His words went straight to your cunt, and you really didn't need that then. You needed to get put together and get back to work, not get turned on and go for another round. There were towels under the sink that he grabbed so you could both dry off before redressing. You shook your hips as you pulled your shorts back on and he chuckled at your cuteness. Looking over yourselves in the mirror, you were still blushing, cheeks blotchy and red.

"Geez." You clicked your tongue, patting at your cheeks to try and at least even out the redness. Other than that, your clothes were in order and your braid hadn't gotten too messy, it actually looked a bit better.

Brandi came out of the front office, and you took her place so she could leave for the day.

"Did he dick you down good?" She teased you and you widened your eyes in exaggeration as a response, nodding.

"Girl~" She laughed at this, and you waved at him goodbye as he left with the rest of your coworkers from the first shift.

-> Yeonjun <-

-> Soobin <-

-> Hueningkai <-

-> Beomgyu <-

Masterlist

#ihavethedreamies #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #txt #txt fanfic #txt x reader #txt smut #txt taehyun #kang taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun fanfic #taehyun smut

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