#that i'd do something awkward and weird and slightly annoying

[bananonbinary]

theres a certain youtuber that i like and every once in a while i see some bullshit drama starting video about them and i'll start it like "oh no did they do something really bad" and every time its always "idk they just strike me as really creepy" about extremely normal social anxiety/awkward behaviors.

anyway some of yall are extremely not okay about very minor "not fitting in" behavior and it's really really cruel. stop being fucking mean girls.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Residual Effects

Spencer Reid x fem!reader x platonic!James Wilson

wc: 5.8k

note: I came up with this as a second part to Differential Diagnosis, but you can read it as a standalone if you prefer. I hope you like it; I tried to humanize both men as much as possible. In other words, they make mistakes and are foolish, but they're still good guys.

Solving cases almost always left the team with an emotional burden that was difficult to recover from. That's why most took the opportunity to return home, rest, or relax as much as possible before being called upon again. However, this situation had turned out quite well: just a few victims and an unsub who wasn't truly dangerous—just a confused, somewhat unstable man, but not exactly deadly. Plus, it was local, which meant no wasted hours on the jet or the annoying process of packing and unpacking.

That meant good humor. And good humor always manifested itself in the desire to go for a few drinks.

“I’ve got them”

“You spoil us too much, Rossi,” Penelope commented with a cheerful laugh. No one, not even her, balked at the suggestion. Although, in reality, you hadn't decided where to go either.

You and Reid had been left behind, walking out of the building more slowly. He had that slightly hunched posture, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. You too, hands in the pockets of your leather jacket, trying to ignore the slight tingling of tiredness in your back.

“Will you go?”

“Maybe. I'm kind of tired. I'd just go get a soda or something. Are you going?”

“Yeah... I mean, if you go,” he said, and finally looked at you, half smiling, “Then I’ll go.”

Ever since that case in New Jersey, almost a month ago, Spencer had been behaving differently toward you. Not weird or hostile, but definitely not the same. Sometimes he was quieter, shyer, as if he didn't know where to put his hands when talking to you. Other times, he looked for any excuse to be close, to comment on something, to stay a little longer. Just like now. As if being by your side was his priority, even if it meant fighting his social awkwardness.

You were about to say something, maybe a joke about how everyone needed to relax a little, when your phone started ringing. You had to fumble your hands out of your pockets and search for your phone, which seemed to be caught between the fabric and the lining.

Even though you moved quickly, it wasn't fast enough. Spencer managed to read the name that appeared on the screen. His expression changed almost imperceptibly: his jaw slightly tense, his eyebrows a little lower.

"Hello?"

“Is this a bad time to call?” a warm, familiar voice asked.

Hearing it, a smile spread across your face, almost reflexively.

“No! I'm just getting off work. We finished a case, and I was about to go out with my colleagues for a drink. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just... I’m around.”

That simple phrase brought you to a complete stop. So did Spencer. You turned slightly to stand back from the group and hear him better.

“What? What do you mean you’re around? In Quantico?”

“DC, actually. There was an oncology conference today at the convention center. As the head of department, I had to attend. It wasn't anything spectacular, but I'll stay until tomorrow. And… I don't know, I was thinking about you.”

His voice sounded honest, a little unsure.

“I thought if you had time, we could have dinner. I know a really nice Italian restaurant a few blocks from where I'm staying. But if you already have plans, I don't want to interrupt anything.”

Your heart beat a little faster, though you weren't sure why. Maybe because of the surprise, or because of the way he said it. It wasn't just an invitation. He'd been thinking about you.

“You’re not interrupting. Seriously. We were just going somewhere. Nothing planned. If you’re here... I’d love to have dinner with you.”

In the background, you heard Emily playfully call your name. It was clear there were several curious ears.

"I'm at the Hilton, right across from the convention center. Do you want to meet me at the restaurant? Call a taxi, I'll pay for it."

“Oh, no need, I brought my car today. Is 40 minutes okay for you?”

“Perfect. I’ll take a shower and wait for you there.”

"That sounds great to me"

“I’m glad you said yes,” he added, more quietly. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.”

There was no way to hide your smile anymore, and you didn't try either.

“See you in a bit”

“I’ll be waiting for you. Drive carefully.”

You murmured a goodbye and then hung up. Emily and Morgan, like vultures circling emotional drama, immediately approached.

“And that happy face?”

“A friend invited me to dinner,” you replied without thinking much.

“A friend?” Morgan repeated, raising his eyebrows. “One who makes you smile like that on the phone?”

“He’s just a friend,” you insisted, even though you knew it wouldn’t convince them.

“It’s a he!”

By this point, the rest of the team was speaking more quietly to catch some of the conversation.

“What do you call this ‘just a friend’?” Emily asked with a mischievous smile.

“James Wilson”

Morgan burst out laughing.

“Is he handsome? Smart? Tall?”

“He’s a doctor. We met a few years ago.”

“He better be a cardiologist… because someone here is going to need help,” Emily joked.

While they laughed, Spencer remained silent. He didn't look at anyone, just at the floor.

“Aren’t you coming then?” he asked suddenly, without looking at you.

“I’m sorry, Spencer. I said yes.”

His posture made you feel like you owed him an explanation. He nodded once, briefly, almost as if he had trouble keeping his teeth from clenching.

“Okay. Have fun.”

“Is something wrong?” you asked softly.

“No. I just... thought we'd all go together. But it's okay.”

Emily and Morgan exchanged a look. Morgan, as always, was the first to break the awkward silence.

"Boy, if you want, we can invite the doctor too. Maybe you'll even become friends, you know, nerd to nerd."

“Very funny,” Reid muttered, walking toward the street without waiting for the others to follow.

This kind of behavior was unusual for him, and it made you wonder what was causing it. Your friends thought of a probable cause, but they didn't want to mention it. It was better for romantic matters to be resolved between those directly involved and not through mediation like theirs.

The other curious people had already realized that you wouldn't be accompanying them, because as soon as you got a little closer, they all crowded around you.

“I would love to go with you, but…”

“Say no more. We understand.”

“Should we expect a ring soon?”

“Come on, Garcia,” you laughed at how reckless the comment seemed compared to JJ’s. “He’s just a friend I haven’t seen in years. There’s no mystery to solve.”

You said goodbye to everyone with a hug, except for Spencer, who offered you only a wave. Distant and simple. But that's how he was when it came to contact, so you respected him and tried to take it in the best possible way.

“Have fun, drink responsibly, and don’t do anything you might regret tomorrow.”

“Or in nine months”

Emily winked at you, and the rest of them burst out laughing. Sometimes—most of the time—they were a total nightmare.

At the chorus of jeers, you just shook your head and started walking in the opposite direction. A smile still floated on your lips, but also that stabbing feeling in your chest that you couldn't understand where it was coming from. You're supposed to be excited about the invitation, right?

The drive was surprisingly short, and by the time you parked, you were a nervous wreck. You tried to fix your makeup as much as possible and were thankful there were no chases or anything that would make you sweat until you were smelly. Your hair didn't look too bad either, and you'd picked a nice outfit, thank God.

Then you looked at the bright sign on the building: RPM Italian. Wilson had texted you the address, and honestly, the place hadn’t disappointed at all.

It wasn't hard to find him once you were inside, after all he was the only man sitting, alone, at a table for two.

And it was impossible not to notice.

He wore a light blue shirt, impeccably buttoned to the neck, and a dark-striped tie that gave him a classic, almost collegiate look. The black jacket accentuated his straight shoulders, and the contrast with the restaurant's warm lighting brought out the softness of his skin and the subtle shine of his brown hair, combed to one side but with a few unruly strands falling over his forehead.

He had that kind of presence that made everything around him seem more contained, more intimate. Effortlessly elegant.

And just as you saw him, he saw you too. He looked up as if he'd been waiting for you all along. His smile—quiet, gentle, all his own—littered his face as soon as he recognized you. And that smile—the one you tried to hide—inevitably appeared on yours too.

"Hello"

“Hi,” you replied, moving closer as his gaze scanned your face with an expression as serene as it was genuine.

His cologne filled your nostrils: sophisticated, with notes of wood and something citrusy you couldn't quite identify, but it made you close your eyes for a second. It was a clean, masculine scent, as if his mere presence gave you a feeling of calm. As if it were his natural scent and not that of a fragrance perfectly chosen for him.

He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“You look beautiful,” he said naturally, as if it were a fact, not a compliment.

Then, with a subtle gesture, he pulled your chair out for you.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. Even without traffic, the streets are a mess."

“Okay, my invitation was too hasty. I didn't even know if you were busy.”

“Today was a good day, cases don’t always turn out so well,” you began, watching him sit down in front of you.

He asked you to go deeper into the day's events, and you happily shared them with him. A bottle of wine was perfect for accompanying the conversation and, in the process, lifting both of your spirits.

Wilson told you about the conference, how everything had gone, the activities, the hustle and bustle of the day, and a little bit about what had been happening in his life over the past month. The past few years, actually, since the conversation you'd had while in New Jersey lasted only a minute. Although it was logical, after all, you couldn't gossip with him in the middle of such a delicate situation.

Now the night was yours.

“It’s so weird seeing you after so many years, you know?”

You frowned at his confession, not quite sure how to interpret it, and at the same time you smiled at him.

“Is it something bad or…?”

“No! Of course not. I mean, I didn’t think I’d see you again. I figured you’d be like most of the interns we have at the hospital, but when I saw you in House’s office that day, it was like… I don’t know, like I’d gone back in time or something.”

“It was a good time, wasn’t it? My twenties crisis seems like a breeze next to what it's like around thirty,” you murmured, making him laugh. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

"Really?"

“Yes. And I mean that as a compliment, for the record. I mean, you always seemed so… so human. Kind-hearted, gentle, funny. I always wondered what made you House’s friend.”

“He’s not that bad,” he defended him. “He just needs a little help sometimes. And patience most of the time. Deep down, he’s a good man, he tries hard to save patients.”

“I see you and I feel that every time you find a mess you think 'I can fix it,' and I honestly don't know if it's an act of selfless love for the world or some kind of self-imposed moral burden.”

“Are you saying I should stop being friends with House?”

“I’m saying you’re a complex personality. Very bright, polite, and kind, but at the same time, it’s as if something compels you to collect outcasts from around the world to try to rehabilitate them or something,” you smiled. “Forgive me if I took the liberty of assuming things about you. It’s part of… well, you know, my job.”

Wilson didn't seem offended. It was more like he was impressed by what you were telling him, perhaps too close to the truth.

“I can't imagine how complicated it is. The human mind is so… unpredictable. I rely on medical evidence, on tests, on the effectiveness of medications. But trying to understand the twists and turns of humanity—that's a challenge.”

“Sometimes it's enough to look a little deeper. You think you know something, but in reality you're looking at it from the wrong perspective or you're not seeing it objectively. It all depends on the person you are, who they are, their life story, their modus operandi. You have to look at things from the outside. It's like... when you eat something that seemed like the greatest delicacy in your childhood, but, as an adult, you realize it wasn't as good as your memories had led you to believe. Maybe I'm digressing, but…”

“No, I understand perfectly,” he finished. He looked at you with a certain admiration, though with those bright, tender brown eyes, it was hard to tell if it was genuine or just a natural reflex.

You were about to say something more about it when a hand placed on your shoulder made you jump. You doubted it was a waiter touching you so familiarly, and when you turned around, you found yourself staring into the face of your elegant Italian colleague.

“Rossi?”

“I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I want you to know we're not spying on you or anything.”

“What?” you squealed. He was speaking plural, what was it…? “No way.”

Your answer appeared a couple of tables over. They were all sitting at one of the tables, the whole team, laughing amongst themselves. Almost as if he felt your gaze, Spencer turned in your direction until he met your eyes; a second later, he focused on Wilson.

“It turns out we suddenly had a collective craving for Italian food, and since this is the best restaurant I know…” he shrugged, smiling, “What can I say? It’s just the coincidences of life.”

James watched with some interest and a touch of entertainment, as if he was enjoying the scene he was witnessing.

“Wilson, this is my… he’s my coworker, his name is David Rossi. Dave, this is Dr. James Wilson, one of the best oncologists in the country.”

“Just James,” he murmured, standing up to shake his hand. You could feel the BAU’s eyes on you. “It’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine. How lovely to see our darling so happy.”

You were going to make sure you killed him one of these days. Or if not, at least make him suffer. Your mind immediately went to how much fun the others must be having seeing you blush, and suddenly, you thought you wanted to kill them too. Spencer was the only one who watched everything impassively, as if he didn't want to be there. But he never went places he didn't want to be, so what was happening to everyone?

“Well, I appreciate you coming, but I think it's best if you advise our friends on the dishes. After all, you come here often, don't you?”

“You’re right,” he smiled. “We’ll be there if you need anything.”

You practically shoved Rossi out of your way and tried desperately to ignore how tense the atmosphere had become, at least from your perspective. Wilson wasn't uncomfortable at all; he was even smiling slightly.

“So those are your colleagues?”

"I swear I didn't tell them where I was. They must have heard it on the call or…"

“Does it bother you?” he interrupted. When you looked at him, confused, he continued, “That they’re here, I mean. That they see you with me.”

“No! My God, of course not. What I'm trying to say is, I hope you're not uncomfortable with them being here or anything. They're a bunch of gossip and… I'm sorry.”

“Do they know you like me?”

While that was true, it didn't stop you from freezing completely. You never expected him to express it so shamelessly, so directly and casually. A nervous laugh soon emerged, almost touching disbelief.

"Sorry?"

“Oh, it’s just… I don’t know, I thought you told them about the little conversation when you went to the hospital. Or your friend, anyway.”

“For starters, Reid isn't a big mouth. Second, that's none of their business. And third, you just said I like you, and in any case, the correct tense would be past tense: I liked you. A mild crush that all college girls eventually have, nothing more.”

A chuckle escaped his lips and you dared to look at him.

“Does this amuse you?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just… I don’t know, I thought it was really cute when I found out. I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of House, but I kept wondering how accurate his conclusions were.”

“House is reckless and an idiot”

“But most of the time he’s right,” he smiled, watching you closely. “Don’t feel bad.”

“I don't. That's in the past, Wilson. Besides, you are older than me.”

“Yes, but…”

“And you're married”

Suddenly, it was his turn to pale. He hadn't even mentioned his current wife, and the way his hand unconsciously went to his ring finger, searching for the non-existent jewel, gave you the confirmation you needed.

And yet, you felt like you'd just hit back. He didn't know for sure if you had ever been—or were ever—attracted to him, and you weren't sure a wife even existed. You were playing the same game, even though he didn't think you knew the rules.

Poor, naive Wilson.

“How… how did you know?”

"I made some guesses. You're not wearing your ring today, but you have a habit of going to that area with your thumb, as if you're used to playing with it. Just like you, a moment ago, I was just throwing a guess into the air."

He remained silent, observing you, as if your comment had activated a mirror he didn't know he needed. His expression didn't show annoyance, but rather a strange mix of vulnerability and respect. As if he felt exposed, yes... but not entirely uncomfortable about it.

Receiving no response, you continued:

“What I find curious is that you decided to forget it today. Maybe trying your luck? Are there a lot of pretty female oncologists at the conferences you attend?”

James didn't answer immediately. His hand slowly moved back from his ring finger, as if you'd caught him in the act. He cleared his throat, his smile barely visible.

“Things with my wife haven’t been going well for a while now…” he said, lowering his voice slightly, as if he knew any misspoken words could backfire on him “It wasn’t a planned gesture. Sometimes, when I’m feeling confused, I just… don’t wear it.”

“That sounds dangerously symbolic. Not wearing the ring, I mean. As if you're subconsciously permitting yourself to be a little less of a husband.”

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly “I promise.”

He understood the nature of your comment. And, honestly, he couldn't blame you. He'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't contacted you as an attempt to escape the routine, to see if maybe you were what his life was missing.

But he wouldn't tell you, of course not.

“Can I say something without sounding nosy?”

Wilson nodded, looking at you with genuine interest.

“Maybe... and I say maybe because I don't have all the answers, okay? But... maybe you should think about whether you're there because you still love her or because you're afraid of being alone.”

He gave a short laugh, with no trace of mockery.

“Would you say that from your own experience?”

“I say this because loneliness often disguises itself very well as commitment. And because there's nothing more exhausting than trying to keep a dead relationship alive just to avoid the silence.”

Wilson seemed to process this more seriously than you'd anticipated. He looked at you as if you were much more complex than he'd initially believed. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly.

“You are quite perceptive.”

“I already told you, it’s my job.”

As you watched him speak, with that polished charm that had once seemed unattainable, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

For years you had idealized him, as if James Wilson were the perfect representation of the thoughtful, brilliant, and emotionally available man who was so scarce in the world. But now, standing before you, you no longer saw the idol you had once fantasized about from a distance, but a real man: one who made mistakes, who made selfish decisions, who could be emotionally irresponsible without even realizing it.

You were still attracted to him (because it wasn't easy to shake off the feeling), but now it was tinged with reality and maturity. You might like him, you might desire him, but you also knew that trying something with him would be like walking on glass: complicated, unstable, and probably painful.

The parallel with your previous analogy –the objective view of your favorite food– felt like a bitter omen.

A comfortable pause settled between you. The restaurant music, the murmurs, the drinks, everything seemed to continue, ignoring the conversation you'd just had. Until he spoke again.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

It wasn't a loaded question. There was no ulterior motive. But you still looked at him with some suspicion.

“Was that a flirtation attempt?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said quickly, his hands raised. “I just… wanted to know. That’s not why I came to you, I just wanted to see you. I thought it would be a good idea to invite you to dinner”

A relaxed smile suddenly appeared. You felt more comfortable now that you knew he wasn't trying to get into your pants, although, to be honest, a month ago you would have accepted the offer without a second thought.

“It’s okay. I'm glad to know I'm not a whim of your midlife crisis,” you admitted. “And to answer your question, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

You said it sarcastically, and he smiled. You reminded him a little—too much—of House, and he wondered if that was a good or bad thing. He was surprised to think that the passing of time had taken away that insecure little girl, whom he now saw in Cameron, and made way for a worthy apprentice of the doctor. Perhaps that was why you had argued so much during that visit; two such strong personalities didn't get along so easily.

Oblivious to the other person's thoughts, your gaze involuntarily returned to the other table. Something in your chest suddenly tightened.

Spencer.

He wasn't laughing. Not like the others. He was watching you.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment you couldn't read him. He looked confused, annoyed... or just plain hurt. But it was him, after all, so nothing was as simple as it seemed.

“Everything okay?” Wilson asked, following your gaze.

“Yeah,” you answered, looking away from Spencer as if that would make him less important.

He knew who you'd been eyeing. He also wondered if your answer about a relationship was only half-truthful. If you'd been hiding something or had subconsciously been searching for the object of your desire after answering the question.

“House was quite impressed with your friend. He said he was brilliant.” James poured himself a little more wine, not hiding his curious tone “Rare for him to praise anyone other than himself.”

“Reid is… peculiar”

“I read some of his publications. The guy is a genius,” he took a sip. “And he seems very serious. I wonder if he’s always like this or if he’s just trying to kill the man in front of you with his eyes.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You knew Spencer was good at keeping his emotions under wraps, but you also knew he had a way of letting them show when he wanted. That was one of them.

Wilson looked at him once more.

“I think I just made an enemy without knowing why.”

“You’re not his enemy,” you said, your voice calm. “He’s just not used to seeing me outside of certain scenarios.”

“Like on a date?”

“It’s not a date”

“But it might seem so”

“Now you’re implying that he likes me?”

“No,” he murmured, without a trace of lying “I’m just saying what I see. Just like you.”

The sudden setback he gave you, with your own arguments, made you laugh while you shook your head.

“You know, of all the things that could have happened, I didn’t expect our evening to go this way.”

“Nor me. But I'm glad it did.”

"Why?"

"Because sometimes it's good to talk things through. To avoid misunderstandings."

“To think that I'm still in love with you, for example?”

“Or assume I’m trying to cheat on my wife with you.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere felt like there was a certain complicity, you could even say a certain unresolved tension. As if you were saying those things, but deep down, you were thinking that if you had kissed at any moment, it would have felt natural.

In a sort of tacit agreement, the topic of conversation changed, and you continued eating dinner as normal. The wine glass in your hand was almost empty, but you did not attempt to refill it. He didn’t either.

You both paused in that strange, comfortable moment that occurs after a long conversation, one that seems to have lasted minutes and yet a lifetime. The murmur of the Italian restaurant was soft, discreet, just enough to envelop you in a bubble where no one else seemed to exist.

At some point, dessert arrived, and with that, the time to say goodbye. You hadn't realized your friends were no longer at the next table, which made you wonder how long ago they'd left.

“It was… nice to see you,” he finally said, that nostalgic smile forming in his eyes more than on his lips “I didn’t know how much I needed it until it happened.”

“Yes,” you replied barely, in a soft voice. “I didn’t know either.”

He looked at you more closely, and then he said it. No drama, no cheap insinuations. He just blurted it out, as if he were confessing it more to himself than to you:

“If one day circumstances were different… I don’t know, I’d like to see you again.”

And there it was. The phrase that left the air suspended between you. You could have done many things with it: laugh, say yes, shake your head, respond with something equally ambiguous. But you did nothing. You just looked at him. And he understood.

He paid the bill without much insistence, and you didn't argue, because you knew it was a way to close the moment; to make everything intact, without cracks. When you left the restaurant, the night air greeted you with a light breeze and the scent of distant rain.

You wanted to say something else, but whatever thought had crossed your mind was cut short by what you saw. Spencer, standing on the corner, hands in his pockets and the collar of his coat pulled up to his cheeks. He didn't seem rushed, but he did seem expectant. When he saw you, his frown softened slightly... until he noticed who was walking beside you.

“Dr. Reid! It’s so nice to see you again.”

The aforementioned greeted him with a nod, trying to be as rude as possible, and saying a soft hello.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“A taxi,” he muttered dryly.

The idea of giving him a ride immediately occurred to you, and as you looked at Wilson, it was as if he'd already read your mind. A soft smile told you he agreed.

“I can take you home.”

“Thanks, but I already called the taxi. It would be very rude to just leave.”

“That’s no problem,” the doctor chimed in. “I could have yours. I was thinking of taking one to get back to my hotel.”

Reid looked at you then, as if seeking confirmation that the option was really valid. Then he looked at Wilson, assessing without hiding it. The moment became intense, although no one said anything.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Either way, James was about to leave.”

“I was thinking of walking you to your car, don’t think I’m a savage,” he joked, and you laughed softly.

That brief, carefree laugh made both men look at you. For a moment, you were the exact center of two opposing universes.

You turned towards the elder.

“If you come back to town, please call me.”

“Same here. Even if you're not in Jersey and want to call me, I'm available.”

You leaned forward to say goodbye, with a hug, and he leaned his head down to kiss you. A simple, polite touch, with no ulterior motives… but not entirely innocent. Because Spencer saw it. Because Spencer felt it. And because you noticed it too.

“Sleep well. Good luck on your return flight.”

“Take care,” Wilson said, before saying goodbye with a last smile.

You gave Spencer a small nod and started walking toward the car. He followed you, but not before saying goodbye to Wilson with a formal handshake. You didn't want to pressure him. You decided to wait. You knew that if something needed to be said, it would come from him.

He walked in silence for several minutes, with his hands in his pockets and his steps slow.

“Did it go well?” he asked, without turning around completely. His tone was calm, but there was a barely perceptible tension in his words.

“Yeah. It was quite nice. I liked the food, the wine… the conversation was good.”

There was another pause.

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

You raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?"

“I don’t know if you had plans to go somewhere else afterward.”

You paused before looking at him again. You were almost back at the car.

“We just wanted to have dinner. Sleeping with married men isn't my style.”

Spencer turned his head, now yes, to look at you fully.

“Is he married?”

“As I feared,” you said, with a dry smile.

Your friend didn't know how to interpret that and looked down for a moment. The cold ran through you, chilling you to the bone, and you wondered if you could ask him for his coat to warm you up a little. But that would have been cruel.

“And if he wasn’t?” he then asked, without embellishment, “Would you have something with him?”

The question took you a little by surprise. Not because you weren't expecting it... but because the way he said it was too direct, even for him.

You sighed, letting the warm air escape through your lips.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered. “He’s kind, very handsome, and I like him, but… today I realized there are things about him, emotional things, that I don’t know if I could deal with. He’s full of voids that I don’t know if I want to fill.”

Spencer didn't say anything for a second. He just looked at you, as if trying to read what was behind your words. As if it hurt him that you weren't sure, but also as if he was relieved to hear that you weren't entirely convinced.

When you got to the car, you leaned against the door for a moment, searching for your keys. Spencer stood by your side, his hands still in his pockets, as if the weight of his coat could keep him firmly on the ground. The night was still warm, but you couldn't tell if the trembling in your hands was due to the weather or everything you'd said to each other. And everything you hadn't.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No, Reid, it’s okay. I know you hate doing it.”

Your thoughtfulness made him smile, and he climbed into the passenger seat. You were grateful that it was warmer inside, something that would improve once the air-conditioning was on.

The man snuggled into the seat, staring out the window at the streets, and then you sat for a while enjoying the comfortable silence in the car. The only thing that remained was the murmur of the radio, which had just changed songs. A guitar filtered through the speakers, followed by a slightly nasal voice.

I met her in a club down in old Soho…

Spencer blinked, then tilted his head slightly, as if recognizing an old acquaintance. And when the song reached the chorus, he smiled.

“Did you know this song was banned on some radio stations for mentioning a soda brand?” he said suddenly, without you asking.

You barely turned your face towards him, without taking your eyes off the road.

"Huh?"

“Coca-Cola,” he explained, with that half-smile that appears when he’s about to share a piece of trivia that probably no one asked for but that he finds fascinating. “In the original version it says: 'Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Coca-Cola' But the BBC didn’t allow explicit commercial references, so The Kinks had to go back to the studio to re-record it saying 'cherry cola' just so it could be played on the radio.”

“Are you kidding?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. And it wasn't even because of the song's content. Which, if you think about it, is a lot more scandalous.”

Girls will be boys and boys will be girls, it's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world…

He raised an eyebrow, as if the song had just proven its point for him.

“It was written in 1970. A song about a relationship with a trans person or drag queen, amid the Conservative era. Ray Davies wrote it after his manager realized, too late, that Lola wasn't the woman she seemed. The fascinating thing is that the song never pokes fun at the subject. It's more… tender. Confusing, yes, but honest.”

You chuckled, impressed.

“I've never heard it before. It's a beautiful song.”

You were silent for a moment, listening.

“Also,” he added, in a softer tone, “it’s a good metaphor for embracing the unexpected. Things that don’t fit with what you believed. Or what you were prepared to feel.”

You didn't say anything, because you didn't need to. You just kept driving, while Lola continued singing her cheerful chorus, and you wondered if, in some way, that song sounded a little like what Spencer wasn't saying.

[luveline]

can I request aaron with younger!reader who isn't really an affectionate pet names type and she just ends up calling him bro out of habit and he's just,,, so perplexed and sometimes a bit annoyed like 'im not your bro I'm your boyfriend'

thank you for requesting ♡

You thought that having a boyfriend would be fun (true) but that the pet names were a bit much (kind of). No matter how hard you try, you've never been the type to call a partner baby. Sweetheart, handsome, lover, none of it calls to you. It's not that there's anything wrong with sincerity nor showing someone you love them, but pet names are clunky in your mouth. 

Sometimes you have to say something, though. "Dude! What is this? Are you serious?" 

Aaron has presented you with a box of pyjamas. Some people might think pyjamas are a bad gift as an adult, but you're genuinely thrilled. They're a present for nothing, I was thinking of you. I thought you'd like them. 

Not everything expensive is good, but some stuff clearly is. "They feel amazing. What kind of material is this?" you ask, running your hand up and down the shirt. 

"I'm not sure. If you like them I can't get you more. I can get you a pair for every day of the week, if that suits you." 

Is he joking? "Aw, dude…" 

"Not sure I like that." 

You lift your head from the boxed pyjamas and smile at him with gratitude coming out the ears. He's really quite handsome, emphasised when he frowns as much as he might think otherwise, the longer strands of his hair curled gently over his crinkled forehead. 

"Thank you! Can I kiss you?" you ask.

His hand is warm on your cheek as you stand on tiptoes for a kiss. He's not that tall, and your weight has him bending backward, frowning into a short kiss. You dodge back to investigate. 

"Everything okay?" you ask. 

"Fine. They had different colours if you want something brighter, but you liked the lavender underwear–" 

"Bro," you say with a laugh. "Don't say it like that." 

"What is that?" he asks, his teeth not gritted but clearly visible, his frown bordering frantic. "I feel like I'm going insane." 

"What are you going insane over? I'm confused." 

"I'm confused. We are dating, aren't we?" Aaron asks. 

You grip the back of a dining room chair, fingernails rapping against the wood. "Um. I definitely thought so, but is that not what you think?" 

"And you're not angry with me?" 

"Angry? Aaron, I'm really sorry, can you just ask me what you want to ask?" You talk with absolute sincerity, perplexed, a smidge worried. 

"Why are you calling me 'bro'? And 'dude'? I'm not your bro, I'm your boyfriend." 

Agitation tinges his voice. It's clear that he's asking out of frustration rather than confusion; a man at the end of his rope. 

You hold your hands behind your back. "I'm sorry," you say sheepishly, "it's a bad habit. I do want to– I mean, I've thought about calling you nice stuff like you call me, but I've never done it before. It feels weird when I say it, like I'm playing dress up." 

A familiar hand in a familiar place, Aaron's palm tender against your cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm not mad," he says quietly. "I was hoping some new clothes might inspire some affection, but I shouldn't force it. You can call me 'bro'. It's weird," —he laughs, meeting your eyes with a tentative smile— "but you can call me anything. Maybe less 'bro'. 'Dude' is manageable." 

"It does inspire affection. You know. For the record." 

His laughter turns knowing. "I'll remember that." 

You lean in for another kiss. He's smiling this time, his lips parted ever so slightly. 

"What do you want me to call you?" you ask, your breath fanning against his mouth. 

"I'd say whatever feels right, but you might start calling me 'man', or 'my guy'." He chuckles at his own joke, hand needling behind your back to grab big handfuls of you almost greedily. 

It's going to feel awkward. Now or never, you think. "Thank you for the pyjamas, handsome," you murmur, spreading your hand against his chest. 

It's worth it to feel him take in a pleased breath. And it really, really suits him. 

[falling-star-cygnus]

somebody reblogged my appleradio post and tagged it as "not a ship" ...

anyway, budding qpr Lucifer and Alastor because i love them :D Duckie Deer pt.1 {pt.2}

{Lucifer is hunched over his new desk in Charlie's hotel, his grin bordering on maniacal as he puts the finishing touches on his newest rubber duck. In a flourish, he holds the little thing high- or as high as he can feasibly reach anyway- in the air}

"Now presenting..."

{The King of Hell pauses for dramatic effect, despite not actually having any audience except the judgmental stares of his scattered ducks}

"The Wendigo Peace-Offering Red Radio Rubber Duck! ...That switches hands!"

{Lucifer grins a bit more genuinely as the little thing teleports from one hand to the other, twisting into the shadows between his fingers and out to his palm. The more tolerable version of it's intended recipient, he thinks}

{For the sake of Charlie, he had begrudgingly decided to try and befriend the agitating Radio Demon. After all, if they were going to be sharing the space here for the foreseeable future it only made sense for them to get along, right? Or at the very least, try to tolerate each other}

{And what better way to do that then with a rubber duck?}

"Heh heh heh..."

{The king chucks the duck at the door}

"Who am I kidding, nobody wants a rubber duck look-a-like. That's weird, it's a weird gift!"

{As Lucifer rants, he fails to notice the rubber contraption nailing the object of his ire in the forehead. It bounces with a squeak into red tipped hands}

"I'd argue talking to yourself is weirder, your highness."

{That familiar mocking drawl and static covering, the sarcasm on his title, it causes the king to whirl around. Alastor is indeed standing in front of his door, pinching the horn of the duck between his claws with a raised eyebrow}

"Alastor! Just the annoy- uh- just the demon I wanted to see. At this exact moment. ...How much of that did you hear?"

{Smooth. Totally nailed that.}

{One of the hair tufts upon Alastor's head twitches in his direction, confirming Lucifer's suspicion that they were, in fact, ears. It's embarrassing how much effort it takes to stifle the coo that wants to erupt from him at the subconscious movement}

{He has a feeling the Radio Demon wouldn't take kindly to it}

"Hm... Is there any particular reason for this... look-a-like, as you called it? I can't imagine anyone in either of circles would appreciate a duck of my visage."

{Oh good. So just the last part, then. He could still salvage this}

"It's for you!"

{…Damnit.}

{Lucifer sounded too eager. Waaay too eager, actually, if Alastor's steadily raising eyebrow was anything to go by. The king clears his throat}

"Ahem. Uh- it's for you, actually. A peace offering! Since we're going to be around each a lot more often, I figured- well, we might as well try to get along- right? For Charlie's sake. Not- not because you're tolerable. Or because I like you. Heh. No."

{The deer demon blinks slowly, raising the rubber duck up to his eye by it's horn. His perpetual smile- seriously, is that thing stitched on or something? -looks painfully strained.}

"Is that so?"

{His voice is less staticky then usual, which encourages the King to keep going. Lucifer nearly lunges forward, grabbing Alastor's hands and adjusting the duck to rest in one of the Radio Demon's palms}

{He feels a little bad for the flinch and hitch if static that comes with it, but he ignores it for Alastor's sake. He'd like a comment about that even less then a comment about his adorable ears}

"What are you do-" "It switches hands!"

{Alastor quiets at that, his glare softening just slightly around the edges with a blink. Again, Lucifer takes the small allowance and runs with it. He uses his thumbs to push against the joint of Alastor's fingers, furthering flattening his palms; an awkward laugh spills from him}

"Hah- Give it a try! Just- think about it switching and-"

{The duck slinks into Alastor's other palm before the king can finish his sentence. It goes back and forth a few times, filling the deer's eyes with a sense of unguarded wonder that has Lucifer's breath hitching}

{It's gone as soon as Alastor remembers his company}

{The Radio Demon pulls his hands away from Lucifer's, keeping the duck tucked securely in his hand. The king tries not to mourn the loss, both of his surprisingly warm fingers and of the glimpse into his head Lucifer was so graciously privy to today}

{Baby steps, he reminds himself. Something dangerously hopeful stirs in his chest}

"I see..."

{Alastor looks, on some level, like he's lost his footing. He came in here expecting to trade insults like usual, no doubt, especially after getting bonked with a rubber duck of all things upon entering}

{And instead he's left cradling a gift made in his image}

"Well! It'd certainly be rude to refuse such a thoughtful gift from his majesty. Even if it's a silly one."

{It's a feeble attempt at regaining control at best, they both know it. Lucifer sticks his hand out with a flat expression.}

"If you don't like it, give it back."

{Alastor's smile tightens, just like his grip on his rubber duck}

"Now, now, I just said it'd be rude to refuse. Surely your manner aren't lowering themselves to your height?"

{And just like that, normalcy is restored as Lucifer sputters at the jab. The king stomps forward, maybe childishly but no one who matters is around to judge him-}

"What did you even come up here for? If I recall, your 'radio tower' is on the other side of the other side of the-"

{The deer demon had stepped on a wild rubber duck in his subtle attempt to keep distance between them and with a burst of static, Alastor had begun to fall backwards}

{Lucifer acts on instinct and summons his cane,- he's pushed his luck with touch already today- bracing it behind the wendigo's back.}

{It leaves the two in an... awkward situation to say the least. Alastor's long legs pulled out from under him and his lanky torso held up purely by the thin rod of his staff.}

{It leaves Lucifer looking down for once to make eye contact}

"...who's the short one now?"

{Alastor melts into shadows, still holding the rubber duckie look-a-like in one hand as he reappears behind the king. He can feel the radio demon's hand on his collar preventing him from falling flat on his face.}

"Still you, my friend."

{...friend. Lucifer could get used to that.}

[yourlocalalpha]

aa yay! you take requests okay then um!!!

could I have characters with an autistic reader (preferably to make it relatable to me, more of a "loud" autism like vocal stims, infodumping, has meltdowns, ect)? if I can request characters I'd like Chuuya, Dazai, Kunikida and Francis but if not any characters you'd like will be fine!

oh and relationship to the reader (friend,lover, sibling, ect) is up to you

TYSM and I'm so sorry if this sounds awkward 💔

Hiiii! Not awkward AT ALL. I love requests like this. Had so much fun writing but sorry if this is too long/inaccurate🙏🏼

(I have like 2 more requests I'm not ignoring you guys💔)

I may not be the best at writing an autistic!reader forgive me

BSD characters with an autistic!reader

Dazai Osamu (lover)

Dazai absolutely does not bat an eye

He joins in when you infodump. He nods with a suspiciously focused expression.

he deliberately sets you off like

“Remind me again why the moon isn’t a planet?”

He knows. He just wants to see your eyes light up.

Sometimes he ignores you. He absolutely zones out mid rant chewing on a straw. If you call him out

“You talked about snail reproduction for thirty two minutes. You get five minutes of my attention max. That’s generous.”

Later that night he sends you a meme about snails.

He repeats facts you told him at random times. Like you'll be in line for groceries and he'll say

“Did you know sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t float away?”

You blink then realize it was your own info from a week ago.

He doesn’t pretend your loud stims are “adorable.” Sometimes they’re a goddamn assault.

Dazai does not romanticize your meltdowns. He doesn't act all fluffy. He will wait it out.

“do you want to wake the dead? I’m not babysitting a bomb.”

He leaves the room during your worst moments. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he can’t deal with that level of intensity.

Sometimes he’s the cause of the overload.

He will not always apologize. But he will show up the next day with your favorite snack. Or a fuzzy keychain. Or some weird fidget toy.

When you’re overstimulated from something and Dazai is already stressed sitting with a report in his lap but you’re too lost to notice.

“Can you shut up for five seconds? Just five. I can’t think with you screeching like that.”

You’re not doing it at him but Dazai has had a bad day too.

You flinch and stare at him with wide eyes

Blinking fast, trying not to cry or scream or both.

Dazai is already regretting it. He runs his hands down his face. He didn't mean it.

You curl into yourself, your hands twisting your sleeves, barely holding the whimper.

He sits beside you, no smile, no jokes.

Doesn’t say anything until your breathing slows down.

“Okay. Yell at me. Call me every name. Throw that shitty croissant at my head. I deserve it.”

Then after you calm down a little reaches into his coat pocket slowly like real slow and pulls out your stim toy.

“You can keep talking. Or not. But if you do I’ll listen.”

He won’t baby you or treat you like a delicate flower. But he knows when to apologize.

Chuuya Nakahara (lover)

Chuuya does get annoyed when your vocal stims get loud, especially if he’s trying to focus or get comfortable after a mission.

He’ll snap sometimes but it’s never to hurt you more like an exhausted warning.

“Hey, will you keep it down? Some of us need to think.”

Chuuya’s no expert at handling meltdowns. But he won’t ask a million questions or say the wrong things he just stays near, letting you know you’re not alone.

You might be screaming or crying, or retreating into silence.

Chuuya’s first instinct is irritation but he won't ever say anything that is slightly offending.

“Hey. Breathe. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

He plays with your hair because he doesn’t really know what else to do but somehow, it helps. He will stop if you don't like it.

When you talk about your passions, Chuuya listens. He may pretend he’s bored, but he remembers every weird fact you throw at him. To him nothing is weird about you.

“So what you’re telling me is... this rice cooker is smarter than half the Mafia.”

When you get overwhelmed by bright lights or noises he puts his hat where it covers your eyes.

If you stim by pacing or walking in loops he will move furniture out of your way.

When you stim by repeating phrases, he’ll sometimes counter stim.

“Blue light bad.”

“Yeah, so is Dazai.”

“Blue light bad.”

“So is your posture.”

“Blue light BAD.”

“Okay okay okay I’ll fix the lights”

He always buys multiples of your comfort food and lines it up in the fridge like a ritual.

He gets offended when you say “you didn’t have to.”

If you’re nonverbal for a day, he doesn’t pressure you. He just leaves little notes

“Want tea? Yes / No”

“Need a hug? Yes / Not Yet”

And he checks in with the same intensity he fights with on missions.

He folds your stim blankets, lets you echo phrases at him. keeps your favorite texture sweatshirt on the coat rack just in case you need it.

He won’t call you “too much.”

He’ll call you “loud” “ridiculous” “a headache”

but never in a way that makes you feel less.

To him you’re not difficult. You're you and that's enough

Kunikida Doppo (lover)

His coffee routine is exact grams, water temperature, steep time. If you stim by narrating his process like a cooking show host:

“AND HERE WE HAVE THE ANGRY MAN MAKING HIS ANXIETY JUICE.”

“Please... stop.”

He adjusts his Ideal Schedule™ to include your quirks. Literally writes in his notebook:

7:45 8:15 (Y/N) Info dump.

8:15 8:20 Respond affirmatively.

8:20 8:30 Sensory break.

You’re the only person who ever made him rewrite his rules.

Saturdays are chore day. You hate it. You forget steps, misplace items, stim with cleaning supplies, get distracted by dust particles.

Kunikida tries not to lose it. He really tries. But when you break the vacuum hose again

“How?!”

“...”

He’s annoyed. But by evening he’s already fixing it. He apologizes. He always does.

You sneak in and write things like

“11:45 AM eat grass”

“12:00 PM Accept that (Y/N) is inevitable.”

he goes rigid mid day, opens the page, looks at you over the top of the notebook.

“Did you. Alter. The. Ideal. Schedule.”

“I altered destiny.”

Kunikida is a listener. A real one. You’ll talk for hours about whatever your brain has locked onto and he will take notes.

Literally.

You found your name in his notebook under a section titled: “Preferred Comfort Topics.” It had stuff like:

Labubu

Sad wet dogs

Illuminati

Dad Jokes

Sometimes he’ll set a timer if he’s low on energy and ask permission to pause when it rings.

“Can we revisit this later?”

You blink. Nod. No guilt. He made it feel okay.

When meltdowns happen

He panics the first time. He tries to fix it “What do you need? Do you need food? Quiet? Can you just breathe?”

It doesn’t help.

The second time, he does better. Sits next to you. Holds you if you allow. Doesn’t speak. Just waits with you.

He doesn’t fully understand your pain but he respects it.

He made you a stim board made up of your favorite materials.

“I tried to categorize them by texture. Is this soft fluff? Or silky fluff?”

You cried.

In grocery store

“Why is this list sticky.”

“Because I licked it. Sensory.”

He rants to the ADA about you.

Francis Fitzgerald (father)

When you’re born, Francis doesn’t want you.

The house is full of expensive things, but cold. Your noises, the tapping, the humming, the repetitive questions annoy him.

He had a favorite child. (The dead unnamed daughter that he tries to bring back with the book)

“Why can’t you just be quiet? Why can’t you be like her?”

He never says it out loud.

At first you’re left mostly to nannies, tutors, and therapists. Francis attends board meetings and social events, avoiding the chaos of your sensory overload and meltdowns.

When you meltdown screaming, crying, pacing he often reacts with impatience or coldness. He may raise his voice, tell you to “control yourself” or even leave the room.

After his daughter's death he becomes more irritable you feel like your presence is an interruption to his mourning.

As you grow he warms up to you.

He still struggles with your loud stim and emotional outbursts, but he starts tolerating them more, even defending you when others misunderstand you.

One night, after a particularly bad meltdown, Francis quietly sits beside you, not saying much.

“You’re… not easy. But neither was she.”

The house remains grand but feels less cold. You are no longer “the problem child”

Zelda, your mom, is happy now you're happier. She never had favorites.

One morning you sing the entire royal family’s genealogy at full volume, coffee brewing in the background.

“If you get any louder, I’ll put a tax on your voice.”

He is not the best cook, but insists on trying to “make something special.” that you will eat.

You once kept tapping on the crystals. He bought you a collection of crystals.

He lets you get on Moby Dick. But doesn't let you come with him.

[https-wildchaos]

Jacob Custos/Male reader, when Jake realizes he isn't as straight as he thought and drums up the courage to ask his crush out

a/n;; im gonna be honest this is such a really good idea oh em gee!! (i think this is a really short one for a good concept but if you guys really like it I can make more parts)

————————— • 🐺 • ——————————

the quarry jacob custos x male reader

“ Anxious Revelation ”

Jacob was always one of the popular jocks that only talked to his male friend group and occasionally with some girls on highschool but he didn't really date girls very often he was usually only playing football or rugby so he was pretty confused about what feelings he had for you.

Jacob had pulled Kaitlyn towards the campfire while nobody was there, he scratched his head as he looked at Kaitlyn who eyed him up and down, loosing her patience while Jake tried to find words to explain his situation. — "i think I like m/n..." he said with an awkward look on his face as he stared at Kaitlyn which looked surprised. "are you really dropping this information on me without explaining? what are you? our highschool teacher?" he looked back at her before his smile dropped, he sighed and got up from the log. " nevermind, you won't help." he said, looking annoyed before Kaitlyn pulled him onto the log again. "no no no wait, calm down now Tom Brady, explain me stuff before you walk away like an angry kid." she'd say before Jacob rolled his eyes. "well I feel something you know... like... weird whenever I talked with him." he said unable to explain it properly "that's why you didn't date any of the girls..." Kaitlyn mumbled before scratching her chin then snapping her fingers with a smile "ask him out!" she'd say before Jacob looked at her with a confused look on his face"what? no? i don't even like him dude! I mean I might.. but still! dudes can't kiss dudes!" Jacob said, still in denial " I didn't say nothing about kissing but okay, you'll be a happy little homosexual couple." Kaitlyn said with a neutral expression on her face, so close to laughing out loud but she tried to keep a straight face. "this is why I don't tell you stuff." he said with a scoff before walking away.

You were telling the kids bug facts under the tree that stayed in the middle of the cabin while Jacob watched from afar before he sighed and tried to think of what to do next, continuing his thought train for a fee minutes before you noticed him, chuckling softly to yourself you'd dismiss the camper group over to Dylan. You walked towards him with a smile before he started to blush and pretend he was doing something else. "never thought I'd be the counselor that people stare at." You joked with him while he turned towards you. "oh yeah, sure, I wasn't really watching you. I was just uhh, just cloud gazing on these beautiful wooden steps." he said awkwardly before you sat by his side. "yeah?" you said with a small flirty spice to your voice to which the other male tried to ignore. "yeah..." he stopped snd turned towards you. "do you uhh, like... do you wanna hang out?" he said, unsure if he just asked you out or not. "well, we're already hanging out though, cloud gazing is pretty cool to do, c'mon let's go lay down somewhere so it's more comfortable." you said, gaining confidence noticing he was acting slightly weird. "oh uh, sure dude." he said while you got up and stared at him, getting a bit hesitant noticing he wasn't actually joking. "uh alright, c'mon then." you said as you played with your thumb while you both walked towards the small grass patch near the radio station.

you laid down on the grass patch, blushing already noticing he was acting too weird for this to be a joke. he laid by your side, the grass shuffling under him as he tried to get comfortable on the spiky texture of the grass. you watched him with a small smile before you looked up on the sky, a perfect blue sky heading onto the sunset, exchanging gazes once in a while with jacob who seemed to enjoy your company. he looked down towards your hands, moving his slightly close to yours, enough to hold your pinky with his own. You felt your hands tingle as you turned towards him. "you can.. just hold it you know?" you said awkwardly, before grasping his hand. "yeah, of- of course bro, yeah..." he said while he stared at your eyes with his adorable puppy eyes while you rubbed your thumb on the back of his hand, shuffling close enough to give him a hug. "i hate making the first move." you said before Jacob chuckled, wrapping his strong arms around you gently, brushing the comfortable texture of his sweatshirt onto your skin. "in my defense I didn't know you actually liked me and I dont know how to confess to another dude." he confessed staring into your eyes.

————————— • 🐺 • ——————————

[sagekisses]

Something Different~ 2

Pairing: Archeron!reader x Azriel

Summary~ Reader meets the IC and discovers more about her new powers

Content Warning: not much, maybe just some fluff ??

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

Well this is awkward. Thats what I thought upon entering the dining area and taking a seat. "So, where is Elain and Nesta?" A question directed towards Feyre, yet I couldn't help but notice how my words come out airy and sweet, different from my usually tired voice. "Oh, well uhm.. Elain has closed herself off completely and Nesta won't even look at us." Feyre says slightly hesitant. "Please, Nesta would burn this place down if she could. The girl is so hellbent on going back to the mortal lands it's quite funny." Someone different says.

I looked over at her to see striking silver eyes that made me uneasy, different from fae eyes, different from any I had ever seen. She stared me down not blinking once as she watched every moment I made in the moment. "Amren!" Someone from the table shouts, The Morrigan I presume "You're making the poor girl uncomfortable, I have no doubts she's already scared and confused out of her mind." Quite the opposite, I think. Confused, yes, but scared? Not really.

The Morrigan turns her eyes on me, "Don't mind Amren, she's just seeing if you could be a threat.." I blink. "Not that you would be of course!" "We just all have slight trust issues when it comes to meeting new people." My shoulders un-tense after she clears what she meant up. I mean I wouldn't trust me either, a random girl imposing on their self made family, that also could hurt them, not like i'd ever though."

"What she truly means is that we don't know what you're capable of, having been thrown in the cauldron, who knows what you might of took from the wretched old thing." Cassian says. "Especially not with that weird glow around you.. I'm just saying its normal for us to not trust you fully" He finishes with a shrug.

I hum in acceptance "I get it. I don't know what I am capable of myself. This is your home, you have the right to feel however you want." I say finishing the rest of whats on my plate. "Nonsense," Rhysand says "Any family of Feyre's is family to us too. We will help you if you develop any abilities in the mean time, you're not alone Y/n."

I smile at my sister and Rhysand as I stand up "Thank you, It means alot." "Hey, do you want to go shopping tomorrow? I'll show you around Velaris!" I nod "That would be amazing Morrigan. I'll see you in the morning." I take one last look at the man with blue eyes and shadows and realize I never got his name. Well whatever I'll see him sooner or later.

I make my way to my room to get ready for the night. "How the hell am I going get rid of this glitter?" I mumble to myself.

Once I get in the room I search for the source of the light that was casted from my body. While i'm taking off my dress I feel a tingling pain in my back as i go to the mirror to look at whats happening.

As I turn around i'm greeted to a pair of.. wings? on my damn back. I almost pass out as I inspect the weird looking things that have sprouted from my back. The wings are a stark contrast from the common Illyrian wings i've seen so far, they are pearly and translucent and I move them back and forth. They have a beautiful swirl pattern going though them like veins, and I realize that they remind me of fairy wings from my storybooks as a child.

I take a deep breath as I try to understand the severity of the situation, my mind racing at a hundred miles per hour as I grasp what i've really become, an immortal fairy being. I feel an anxiety attack coming on as I come to terms with these annoying beautiful wings. So this is why I feel more graceful and fragile with my movements? I mean why did they just show up instead of being there already? I shut my mind up and try and move them around. I pathetically flutter them around on my back in a attempt to at least float off the ground

"Come on... Come on..." I say fluttering the wings with all my might until I finally feel my feet lift from the ground and i'm successfully in the air. I struggled flying over to the bed but I get there and plop down with a quiet thud.

I lie down in bed for sleep and try and go to sleep but the thought of me being some mythical fairy keeps me up..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``

part 2 lolll im still a beginner writer but 3 will be out tmr i hope

@impossibelle

@annaaaaa88

[mrs-kodzuken]

Destiny ♡

Pairing: Kōshi Sugawara x fem!reader

WC: 2.3k

Genre: fluff, soulmate au

CW: you’re a twin to oikawa meaning your looks will be similar, some cussing, fluff fem!reader, oikawa is annoying, iwaoi mentions

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"Tōru, the preliminaries are right around the corner, I swear to god if you overwork yourself," I glared at him putting my hands on my hips.

"Relax, I'll be fine. As always." He chuckled running a hand through his glorious brown hair.

"I'm so disgusted by you.." I mumbled and walked away from my annoying brother.

"Aren't we all?" I heard iwaizumi chime in from beside me.

"You guys are so mean to me!" Tōru whined, trying to get us to pity him.

I rolled my eyes and walked off to gather towels for the boys on the volleyball team. As the appointed manager, I had a great time working with almost all of them.

Even Kyoutani, or as Tōru likes to call him, 'Maddog-chan'.

"Here, do you need more water?" I softly asked Kindaichi as I handed him a fresh white towel.

Our hands lightly grazed each others as he took it. I could definitely tell my presence made him visibly nervous.

High school boys, am I right?

"S-Sure!" His voice was suddenly very high pitched in his response.

"Alright.." I've slightly gotten used to being the girl around but half of the time it was awkward due to me being related to Tōru.

I grabbed his water bottle from his hands while gathering the rest of the empty ones too. Better fill the rest of them up whilst I'm at it.

"Huh, you must have the hots for me too if you like my sister. We're practically the same person." Oikawa chimes in all dickheadedly. And this is my exact thirteenth reason.

I heard Tōru say as he slung an arm across my shoulder.

"Don't touch me, Shittykawa." I growled with a glare and headed out of the gym, annoyed that I'm unfortunately related to him.

"Yep, the exact same." I heard iwaizumi snicker sarcastically to Tōru. I picked up that little nick name for my brother from Iwaizumi, of course.

I was surprised, Tōru sure did have balls for saying that in front of his soulmate. Who likes to throw balls at his stupid head, which I may add.

What a dumbass.

Even if Kindaichi did like me, bless his poor soul, I was going to wait for my soulmate. However, it didn't especially feel like I was going to see them anytime soon though.

I was always feeling a tiny shiver here and there, not exactly burning.

You see, the way we find our soulmates is basically a game of hot and cold. The closer we are, it's hot but farther we are, it's cold. Some fucked up life game if you ask me.

I wasn't particularly cold nor hot, just averagely warm more than half of the time.

I've heard it goes away once you find them and then you'll feel tingles or something when you touch. How the heck would I know? I haven't met the person.

However, the thoughts of my soulmate were pushed to the back of my mind as the Inter-high Prelim's were coming up.

I wanted to make sure Aoba Johsai won to nationals. As much as I always find Tōru a pain in the ass, I do want him to be happy. Even if he is boastful about himself a lot of the time.

I carried the bottles back, some of them slightly wet. I had to make sure not to drop any of them on my way.

"Alright, we're done for today. Make sure you guys stretch and rest up." Tōru said all captain-like as everyone got finished with putting the supplies away.

I eyed Tōru making sure he was coming along and not staying behind to continue his extra practice that he doesn't need.

"Calm down. I'm coming, jeez." I heard him say to Iwaizumi as he slung his bag on his back.

"Uh huh, I thought I'd have to drag your flatass out the gym." A retort sounded through the gym.

I stifled a laugh as Tōru and Haji argued back and forth about my brother's ass. Which now that I really give some thought about it, that sounds weird.

"Please stop, I don't want to hear about Tōru's flatass." I grossly commented.

"You two are so-" Oikawa started up with but immediately got cut off.

"Would you look at that, this is my house. Bye (Y/n)." Iwaizumi said, purposely cutting Tōru off and ignoring him.

"See you tomorrow." I waved and continued my walk  home with a grumbling Tōru behind me. Our house was, coincidentally, only a couple houses down from Iwaizumi's.

I looked up at the night sky and silently wished the best for my team. Although, I wouldn't ever dare to admit that.

"Tōru? Aren't you going up against Tobio? Your kouhai?" I asked as we headed inside, taking off our shoes.

"First of all, he isn't my kouhai and yes I am. I'm going to beat him in an actual match and prove I'm better than him." He sassily retorted to me.

"Isn't he, like, a first year?" With Toru and I being twins, we both are in our third year.

However, that doesn't make us alike in anyway possible, except maybe looks and of course the relation of family.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" He slightly peered behind me, curious of my intentions.

I shrugged, "You sound immature when he's a first year and you're a third year." I pulled the, 'you're older' card on him like he was dumb.

"Hmph, no it doesn't! Mom!" He rushed into the kitchen to probably tell on me like the little snitch he is. Doesnt matter whether graduation was coming up or not, Tōru still had the motive to act like we were five.

"Tch, childish." I rolled my eyes and headed in there too, to defend myself of course.

"Ah! There are my two favorite headaches! Come help me set the table." I heard mom say as I saw Tōru take offense to what she said.

"Quit being a baby." I looked at him with a pointed expression and set the plates down.

"So mean." He grumbled.

I knew he couldn't insult me physical wise because we are the gender bented version of each other. However, sometimes he knew how to stoop low. Brother or not, he could be ruthless.

"Well, at least I'm not the one without a soulmate." He placed his hands on his hips and smiled triumphantly with an eating shit grin. Although, that didn't last long on his part.

"Don't say that to your sister." I heard dad enter the kitchen and scold him, very convenient on my part.

I grinned brightly at my dad who backed me up as I ignored the dull pain in my chest at not yet having found the other part of me.

Tōru stuck his tongue out at me and I did the same. Hey, if he gets to act childish why can't I do the same?

"Isn't it a bit hot in here to you?" I pulled at my shirt collar. I had taken off my jacket yet I thought about it because it was starting to get too hot for me.

"No? I'm playing in a match and it's not even that hot." Iwaizumi looked at me weird.

"Well whatever it is, it needs to pass." I glared at nothing in particular. I hated being hot, the feeling only made my mood worsen at times.

"Okay, now you guys go out there and win this." I supportively said, pushing the heat on my body aside, and saw Tōru visibly cringe.

"No, stop. That's just..no." He shook his head in a disapproving manner at me.

"Iwaizumi." I merely grumbled, if I couldn't do anything, he surely could for me.

The next thing I knew, Iwaizumi had slapped Tōru on the back of his head.

"That's not how you're supposed to talk to your sister." He scolded. I heard the ref blow the whistle, signaling the break was over and it was time to get back in the game.

My gaze stayed focused on the game, not particularly on one player. I was following each move they made with my eyes.

Soon, the game had been over and Aoba Johsai had won.

"You guys did so well! I'm so proud of you!" I ran towards them, trying to hug all of them at once.

Suddenly, I heard a rough voice come from across the net as we were celebrating.

"Oikawa."

I turned around at the same time Tōru did, and coincidentally Iwaizumi turned too.

"Yes?" we three had answered simultaneously. I raised a brow over to Iwaizumi and stifled a laugh. Strange, I didn't think he would take our last name.

I saw the tall guy, who seemed to be familiar, look dumbfounded.

He quickly seemed to get over his pause, "Next time, we'll win." He said strongly as I saw their captain come and get him.

Before they could even react, I turned towards the two.

"So, Mr. Hajime Oikawa?" I watched the two of them blush as we walked off the court together.

"You two are hella dorks." I muttered at them with a smile on my face.

While they had started changing their uniforms I felt an enormous amount of heat flow through me.

I furrowed my brows unbeknownst to why and then it suddenly hit me. My soulmate must be here.

I started walking around, feeling to see if I had gotten warmer or colder. This really is just a big game of hot and cold.

"Uhh, what're doing?" I heard my brother ask from behind me.

"They're leaving." I whispered and started a fast-paced walk to where the warmth was leaving me.

"(Y/n)! you can't just run off like that!" I heard Tōru yell behind me as I booked into a run. God, I didn't want them to leave.

Soon, I was led outside. It was as if someone placed the sun beside me. I could feel it radiating all over my entire body. I was so fucking hot.

I saw the Karasuno team slowly walking towards and entering their bus. I couldn't spot anyone who exactly looked like they were close to fainting from the heat like I was.

"Hey! Wait!" I yelled out as I neared them. I just had to find them.

However, I didn't see where I was going and collided with someone. The heat I was experiencing, and almost fainted from, suddenly vanished and was replaced with tingles.

Lots of tingles like when your foot is asleep and you have to walk on it. But.. this was comforting, a little pleasurable.

Opening my eyes, I saw a silver haired guy in front of me, on the ground too. I could have cared less at the moment, I just needed to know.

Without thinking of my actions, I grabbed his arm, and sure enough there were tingles radiating up and down my arm.

"Oh my God." I heard him whisper to himself probably. I pulled into a hug as I heard footsteps nearing us.

"I can't believe I found you." I said which came out to a mumble since I was pressed into to him. I could smell his jersey, honeysuckle and linen, a surprisingly intoxicating scent.

I felt his heartbeat, which seemed like it would fly out of his chest at any minute. As if he realized we were still on the ground, he tore himself from the embrace. Standing up, he offering a hand to me.

"Thank you," I nervously said, I mean this was the person I'd most likely be spending the rest of my life with, according to fate.

"I'm Kōshi Sugawara, what's your name?" He moved a strand of hair out of my face, the tingles giving me chills as I shivered with delight.

Just as I was about to answer, a rude and annoying but all too familiar voice interrupted me, and our moment.

"Just what do you think you're doing with my sister, Mr. Pleasant!" I heard Tōru's God awful voice yell from a distance, coming closer with every second.

"Sister?" The man named Kōshi Sugawara questioned.

I looked toward Sugawara and sighed then sadly nodded. It was as if his team had tensed up with Tōru coming.

I mean, we did just beat them. Wait.. did they watch the entire meeting of me and Sugawara? Gosh, that is embarrassing.

"Tch, Shittykawa, can't you see i'm doing something?" I growled out at him, about to hit him when I stopped, seeing Iwaizumi in the distance.

Lucky for me, I have a future brother-in-law who can beat his ass for me.

He came up behind Tōru and grabbed his shirt by the collar. "You're such a pain sometimes." He muttered after bowing to us apologetically and dragged him back.

"Jesus, sorry about him. He really is a pain in the ass. Hi, I'm (Y/n) Oikawa." I smiled brightly at Koushi, my soulmate.

"I didn't know Oikawa had a sister?" I heard someone from his team speak up.

"Oh yeah, and it gets even worse, I'm his twin." I sighed in defeat at my words.

"Well, (Y/n) Oikawa. Here's my number, I would like to go out with you Saturday if you want? For coffee?"

I turned back to my soulmate upon hearing his voice and smiled brightly once again. He literally looks like an angel from heaven.

"Of course," I put his number in my phone and my eyes wandered upward towards the time.

They almost bulged out of my head, "Oh my god, I have to go. Uh, I'll see you Saturday Koushi? Bye!" I waved him off, missing the feeling of the tingles that would linger on my hand.

I couldn't wait for Saturday.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you want more!

the header is from Jimena Martinez on Pinterest

[kotlcpuppetshow]

secret santa :)

Hi @squishmallow36, I was your secret santa! And I am so terribly sorry! This was written almost entirely between the times of 10 PM and 3 AM across the span of five days, so I'd like to apologize for a) the bad writing b) the projecting c) how ooc they are d) the weird, abrupt ending, and e) everything. Regardless, it is very much a Fedex story, and writing it was a lot of fun (this fic might have converted me into shipping them fr fr). Fitz is very pathetic /pos in this, so hopefully you’re a fan of that in fics :) Hope you enjoy!

story takes place in a neverseenless au (don't think too hard about how that works), tw for panic attacks, accidental self harm (related to the panic attacks), & mentions of shitty parenting

@song-tam thanks for hosting :)

Fitz didn’t want to be here, shopping in Atlantis. He was completely zoned out, foot tapping against the ground as his mind wandered, steadfastly ignoring the passage to Sophie’s mind. He didn’t want to think about her. What he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and rot for the next month, but Biana had dragged him to this outing, stating that it was time he stopped wallowing and left the house. Admittedly, she was probably right, as she often was, but that didn’t make him any happier about it. Especially since he was now stuck making incredibly awkward conversation with one Dex Diznee. Biana and Linh were off cooing at the murcats, while Tam was desperately trying to prevent his twin from buying another pet. So, since Dex was banned from the store for reasons he refused to say, and Fitz simply didn’t feel like staring at cute animals his father would never let him get, they ended up standing outside together and talking. Speaking of which…

“Hey, Wonderboy, you there?” Dex was waving a hand in front of his face, looking mildly annoyed.

Fitz snapped back into the present, suddenly remembering that there was a conversation he was meant to be engaged in. “Sorry, mind drifted off,” he apologized, still a little distracted. “Uh, what were you saying?”

Dex scoffed. “Have you not been listening at all?” He looked a little hurt, crossing his arms and shifting his body further away from him. “Y'know what, forget about it.” “Sorry,” Fitz repeated, cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. He really hadn’t meant to ignore him. “I just… have a lot going on right now.”  Which was an understatement - with him finding out Sophie and Keefe were together (and had kissed) just a few days ago, and their cognate bond being nearly broken, and his dad practically giving him the silent treatment for getting that close to losing such a powerful bond, he was more than a little preoccupied.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dex muttered under his breath, glaring at the tiles at his feet.

Fitz felt the corners of his mouth tug downward, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, Wonderboy,” Dex was facing him again, smirk back on his face, but the nickname had a bite in it that he hadn’t heard in a while - not since one of Dex’s weird inventions had accidentally exploded and hit him, and he apologized for hating him.

“What is with you?” It was Fitz’s turn to cross his arms, posture turning defensive.

“There’s nothing with me,” Dex scowled. “I just think that if you think talking to me is so beneath you, the least you could do is be honest about it.”

Fitz just blinked at that, bewildered. He really didn’t have an answer - that couldn’t be further from the truth. He genuinely enjoyed the other’s company the majority of the time, and vice versa (or so he hoped). He wasn’t sure what brought this sudden outburst of bitterness. Had he done something wrong? Was this yet another person he had mistreated, unknowingly or not, in the past few weeks? A pang of guilt ran through him at the idea that he had hurt Dex without realizing.

Unfortunately, Dex seemed to take his silence as confirmation, continuing, “I mean, what could possibly be weighing you down so much? Perfect relationship, perfect family, all the money and power and popularity and fame you could ever want constantly at your fingertips,” he was practically spitting the words out now, anger tainting his tone. “No wonder you still don’t want to talk to someone like me!”

“Is that what this is about?” Fitz cut in. “I thought we were past this.” His eyes narrowed, catching Dex’s gaze and then quickly glancing away. He couldn’t deny being offended, and a little hurt, that despite everything, Dex only saw him as Alden's golden child, who had never faced a struggle in his life. The comment about his “perfect relationship” stung especially, like digging into a fresh wound.

“Am I wrong?” Dex growled, straightening to his full height to look down at him.

Fitz intended to make a biting comment about how yes, actually, he was very wrong, and his privilege didn’t prevent him from suffering, and hadn’t Dex realized that when he nearly blew him up, but what ended up slipping out of his mouth was, “Sophie and I broke up.”

Dex faltered. “Oh,” he said dumbly.

“Oh,” Fitz mocked. Despite his unexpected comment ripping most of the fight out of him, he still felt like being a little mean.

“When…?”

“Two days ago, technically,” he mumbled, “but we had been taking a break for a few weeks before that because of an…” he glanced sidelong at Dex, wondering how much to tell him, “an argument.”

“You mean about Sophie’s unmatchable status,” he clarified.

Well. Evidently, he didn’t have to worry about how much to tell him. He had a brief moment of panic and anger - did Sophie tell him everything? About his initial reaction, and later on, the way he’d tried to pressure her? The fact that she had kissed Keefe? Was that why Dex was acting so strangely? - before he pushed it down firmly. She had every right to talk to him about it, and if Dex was judging him for it, then could Fitz really blame him? He was certainly judging himself for it.

Apparently his emotions were showing, because Dex continued with, “Don’t worry, the only thing she told me was about being unmatchable. I think she even talked to me about it before you, actually. I just guessed you might be mad about that.”

“I was,” he admitted hesitantly, trying not to be hurt by the fact that Sophie had confided in Dex before him. “The way I reacted was, uh, not great. Not because I have something against bad matches,” he hurried to clarify. “If one of my friends was a bad match, I’d be completely fine with it as long as they were happy. But I felt like it was different for me. A lot of people still look down on bad matches, and I felt guilty about doing that to my family. To my parents, especially after Alvar and Biana.” He was referring, of course, to his older brother’s renouncement of the Vackers a few years back. He’d essentially disowned himself, and had been criticizing the family rather loudly since, a source of embarrassment for his parents. More recently, and more secretively, Biana had moved out of Everglen after a disastrous argument with their father, and was now happily living with Tiergan along with the twins.

Dex had looked increasingly more dubious as he kept rambling, but nearing the end his eyebrows had shot up. “Felt,” he noted. “Past tense?”

“I recently realized that ‘bringing shame onto your family’ shouldn’t be as big of a deal as it is to me?” he phrased it as a question, still not entirely sure what that meant. “I talked to my siblings - yes, both of them,” he confirmed, catching Dex’s surprised expression, “and they pointed out that if our parents weren’t willing to accept one of their children being a bad match, that was on them. Alvar was really annoying about it too, kept saying ‘I told you so’. But, yeah, I don’t really care anymore. Not that I got to tell Sophie that.” He mumbled the last sentence under his breath, but Dex still managed to catch it.

“Why did she break up with you then?” he questioned - then paused, eyes widening in realization. “Does it have to do with Keefe?”

Fitz just looked away, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, it totally does,” Dex decided. “What happened? Did they kiss? I know he’s liked Sophie for forever, did he make a move first? Did she get over the ‘Great Foster Oblivion’?”

Upon him not responding, Dex backed off.”Sorry. I’m being pushy. If it makes you feel any better, she rejected me too. Just proves that she has bad taste, right?”

It startled a laugh out of him, and he looked back over in time to see Dex wink at him, and he felt himself blush, much to his surprise. To be fair, he was hardly wrong. With his periwinkle eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and freckles, Dex was very cute. And pretty, for that matter. Fitz wasn’t sure how he’d managed to miss how attractive the younger boy was, actually.

“For sure,” he agreed. He would have said more, but Linh and Biana walked out at that moment, Linh holding an entire Direwolf cub in her arms and looking very pleased with herself. Tam trudged out after them, tugging on his bangs so hard it looked like he was about to rip them out. Biana glanced around before finding them and smiling brightly, strutting over.

“Hope you two weren’t too bored out here,” she greeted them cheerfully.

“Nah, we were talking,” Dex smiled back, dimples making an appearance. “We’re having lots of fun.”

Fitz hummed in agreement, letting his eyes linger on the other boy for a moment too long before turning to Biana. His sister raised an eyebrow at him, subtly asking him a question. Just as subtly, he answered by slowly extending his middle finger. She scoffed.

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

He started talking with Dex more after that. Long imparter calls, trips over to Rimeshire (Dex had admitted that he felt insecure at Everglen, and Fitz was more than willing to oblige - Kesler and Juline were incredibly sweet, and the triplets, though menaces, were a source of constant entertainment). They had started confiding in each other, Dex about Rex’s talentlessness and how he feared for how his brother would be treated once the rest of the elven world found out, and Fitz about how he felt pressure to be perfect, and that he often wished he wasn’t his father’s favorite.

It was during one of his trips to Rimeshire that he realized that he was crushing hard on Dex.

They were making mallowmelt, so they were in the kitchen, baking. Or rather, Fitz was baking. Dex was sitting on the countertop watching, having claimed that the dough could sense his fear.

They were chatting about everything and nothing while he worked, from what pets they would get if they could to the abilities they wanted as a kid.

“You never thought about being a technopath? Really?” Fitz questioned. “Honestly, I don’t think I could see you as anything else.” They were waiting for the mallowmelt to finish baking, so he was leaning against the counter, the crystal chilly against his skin.

“It came as kind of a disappointment,” Dex explained. “I actually have no idea when I manifested, since I’ve always been good with tech. There was no fun, all new ability that suddenly appeared, so it was really underwhelming. My parents were over the moon when we realized, though. I think my dad cried.”

“I don’t think my dad’s ever been prouder of me than when I manifested as a telepath,” Fitz said, only slightly joking. “Alvar resented me for it at the time, though. He saw it as confirmation that he was being upstaged by his younger brother. It’s ironic, though, because we both wanted to switch places. I wanted to be a vanisher so badly when I was younger. Having everyone’s eyes on you, all the time, waiting for you to live up to your potential… I just wanted a  break, you know?”

Dex nodded, gaze thoughtful. “I get that. Having people constantly expecting something from you is exhausting,” he agreed. “For me, they were expecting failure, not success, but I guess it puts a lot of pressure on you either way.”

Fitz opened his mouth, about to respond, but at that moment the timer went off. He jumped up to turn it off and get the mallowmelt out of the oven, carefully sliding the hot pan onto the counter. Dex was already reaching for it, with no apparent concern for the fact that the gooey dish was practically still bubbling. Fitz smacked his hand away gently.

“Wait,” he chided. “You’ll burn yourself.”

Dex rolled his eyes playfully. “You just have to ruin all my fun, don’t you.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, tossing the other a fork. “Go right ahead, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Grinning widely, Dex scooped up a heaping, steaming bite and brought it to his mouth… and immediately regretted it, judging by the way he started panting and fanning his face.

“Hot, hot, hot!” he yelped through a mouthful of food. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

Exasperated and amused, Fitz feigned disappointment, pretending to lecture him, but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

Once Dex had downed an entire bottle of Youth or whatever they’re called and the mallowmelt had cooled a sufficient amount, they settled into a comfortable silence while eating. Fitz finished first, and simply watched as the technopath shoveled his (second) piece down his throat, a laugh bubbling up at the way the mallowmelt smeared across his lips.

Dex looked up, eyes wide. “What? What’s funny?”

“You have a little something there,” Fitz said, unthinkingly reaching up to wipe it away. His breath caught in his throat as his hand made contact with Dex’s face, pausing in its action. The other boy was blushing, the tips of his ears and his cheeks bright red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, retracting his arm. He was suddenly all too aware of his heart beating too fast in his chest, the soft pink haze clouding his mind with thoughts of how perfect Dex looked, and oh, he knew this feeling. He knew this feeling all too well.

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

Fitz hadn’t meant to come here. Really, he hadn’t. What he intended to do was head to Solfreef and get Biana to calm him down. In his enraged state, though, he wasn’t thinking quite clearly, and had yelled out “Rimeshire!”, and since he didn’t have any other leaping crystals on him, his only choice was to stay.

He knocked firmly on the door. It took Dex a few minutes to get there, and he was greeted with the sight of a still fuming Fitz pacing back and forth, hands clenched into fists so tightly his nails sent sharp flashes of pain across his nerves.

“Do you want to come inside?” he asked hesitantly after a few seconds without a reaction to him opening the door.

Fitz stopped, turning towards him. “Yeah,” he sighed, one hand coming up to drag through his hair.

They didn’t talk for a while after heading inside, but eventually Dex spoke. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Fitz muttered, shoulders coming up defensively.

“Okay…” he didn’t push, and, a little nervously, he offered another solution; “Y’know, I keep hearing about this human thing called rage rooms. They’re - well, they’re exactly what they sound like, they’re places people can go to break stuff and get out some anger. And I’ve been thinking, there are some things that I know my parents wouldn’t mind mysteriously disappearing…”

Fitz blinked a few times in surprise, realizing what he was suggesting. “No, I couldn’t-” he began, only to be cut off by Kesler poking his head around the corner.

“Please do!” he chirped. “Sorry for eavesdropping, but I’d like to offer this,” he said, holding up a horribly ugly yeti statue with telekinesis, “for your consideration.”

“See?” Dex asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the statue. “That thing is begging to be destroyed.”

Fitz laughed slightly, some of the tension seeping out of his frame. “Well, that’s hard to argue with.”

The two were practically giving him puppy eyes now, and to be fair, it probably would do him good to let off some steam. Not to mention, they were absolutely right. That statue needed to be put out of its misery.

That was how he ended up in a clearing somewhere in the Diznee’s estate, taking a metal club to a crystal yeti statue. The fragile stone broke easily, shattering into pieces that flew everywhere with each swing. For the most part, they ended up in the grass or caught in his jerking, but a few had embedded themselves in his hands, scratching the skin he had uncovered. He’d been at it for a while, and by now he could feel the anger bubbling beneath his skin ebbing. His jaw was still clenched tightly, though, and remained that way until he collapsed in the grass, sitting a few meters away from the shattered remains of the statue and breathing heavily.

Dex approached from the edge of the clearing, where he had been standing the entire time, looking slightly shaken.

Wait. Dex had been watching the entire time. He’d seen him at his worst, letting his anger control him - the same anger that had driven Sophie away, had ruined his friendship with Keefe, had put a gap between him and his siblings. Breathing started to become difficult, and the shaky gasps he’d been taking didn’t seem to be enough. His vision blurred and distorted, Dex turning into a whirl of colors as he approached. He wrung his hands, accidentally pushing the shards of crystal still there further into his flesh. He winced at the pain. He grasped weakly at his jerkin, the thick material feeling suffocating, but his hands were shaking too hard to remove it.

“Fitz?”

The voice came to him as if through a fog, drifting into his consciousness. He stared blankly at the face in his vision, not recognizing the features despite their familiarity. Suddenly, he became aware of someone else’s hands, warm and calloused, grabbing his own.

“Dex?” he croaked, blinking away tears that he hadn’t realized he’d shed. “Why are you still here?”

The technopaths eyebrows were furrowed, concern painted across his face. He gave a small laugh that didn’t seem ingenuine despite clearly not being humorous, and asked, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I-” Fitz hiccuped softly, tears still running down his face and drying uncomfortably on his face, “I break everything I touch. See?” he gestured at the wreck over his shoulder. “I ruin everything good thing I have, but I’m still trying to hang on to you even though I’m just going to end up hurting you. You- you shouldn’t be here. Why are you here?”

The grip on his hands tightened, but immediately eased when he hissed in pain.

“That’s not true, FItz,” Dex insisted. “It’s not. You-” he paused, examining the crystal in his skin. “Let’s get these out first, but I can and will make an extensive list of all the reasons why you’re a good person and a good friend.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings,” he mumbled, doubting Dex’s words even as the other boy gently pried the shards out of his flesh, cradling his hands like he was someone worth caring about. “I know that I’m not someone- I mean, I’m likeable, but only if you don’t know me.I’m not loveable, not the way you are.”

“I love you,” Dex blurted out. Immediately, his eyes widened in surprise at himself, but he continued. “I do! I didn’t really mean to say that, but I really, really do think I love you.” Here, he took a breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to do next. “Not just in a friend way, either. And sorry if that’s weird, or if this is the wrong time, which is definitely is-”

Fitz couldn’t help it. He kissed him. It wasn’t very elegant, their lips smushing together awkwardly and both of them not entirely prepared, but it felt right.

“I love you too,” he breathed out quietly, the moment feeling too intimate for anything louder than a whisper.

“Oh,” Dex was smiling uncontrollably. “Thanks.” He paused. “Wait, not ‘thanks’. That’s weird. That was a weird thing to say.”

“Yeah, it was,” Fitz laughed. “Good thing I like weird.”

They were both grinning like idiots now, staring lovestruck at each other and slowly leaning in. Their lips met again, and for that moment, Fitz felt all his troubles fade away. All that existed in the world was them, them and the way they held each other, them and the way he felt worthy. Loved. Valued for him.

[kill-vonkarma-again]

hmm i make one too. don't have any crackships sorry. i'd write on the picture too but i have WAY too many specific thoughts on these shits to be able to cram it in with my shitty built in photo editor. more under the cut

nrmts and klapollo: self explanatory greatest of all time. maybe they're boring choices but idc they mean da worl to me

lanamia is definitely up there for me i just don't have the rfta galaxy brain like exaltedfuzz so i tend not to think about them much...... but they definitely had something going on. (if i'm being honest most of my brain power for both lana and ema go to their familial relationship because those always make me way more emotional and insane than romantic ones. same for mia and maya)

franmaya is a huge one but i think i kind of agree with the assertation that there's not a lot of canon backing for it... they don't interact much at all which is really really sad 😔 they're absolutely perfect foils for each other

gumworth VERY cute. i love edgeworth and his giant gay lap dog who wants him to take better care of himself

krisnix is something that 100% happened and they went insane over each other in only the way you can when you need to kill that other man /x but i don't give it as much brain space as i think i should. i'm sadly not the biggest on toxic yaoi lol

LARRYNIX WOULD BE FUNNY... i don't think i have much more to add here tho

dickbutz is conceptually really fucking funny and i think they would get along if given the space. come on gummy dick butz down

gumdot.... my eyes have been opened i think gumshoe could fix him. he has a good shoulder to cry on

blackquill/sahdmadhi + fullbright: i dunno these guys very well but apparently they're doing some crazy (sometimes evil) gay shit to blackquill. good for them. get that emo hunk

phoenix/mia: ehhhhhh. i'm not gonna say that you're wrong but i very much think that the boss/employee thing would make it awkward. and it'd be kinda one sided on phoenix's side imo. maybe in another life

trucy/pearl: there's nothing especially wrong with this one per se but 1. kinda feels like a pair the spares ship 2. i personally see their relationship as being closer to sorta-maybe-cousins than i do girlfriends. but that's just me you do you

ema/klavier: i see where you're coming from but ema is a dyke and her dislike of him is genuine and not tsundereisms in my eyes. i think they could be friends if you locked them in a room together and forced them to open up to each other but not much more than that

klavier/blackquill: you're probably right i bet klavier annoyed his way into blackquill's space like an especially persistent small dog with a half feral cat. and blackquill can dish out three times as much sass as klavier can take. i don't think enough about blackquill to think more on it though

godot/mia: don't hate me for this one i just think their writing was really crap. like the one time they try to write a canon loving het relationship and it's just this

narumayo: i've said it before and i'll say it again but this one is less deplorable to me and more just a sign that we are interacting with this story as a whole in extremely different ways. i think it's a really obvious and boring conclusion to come to. yayyy the boy gets the girl. barf

apollo/athena: i think apollo is slightly too old for her. it would be a little weird to me. some people seem to disagree with me on that though so i guess whatever. similar complaints to narumayo too though

phoenix/apollo: don't be fucking weird

athena/blackquill: don't be fucking weird... 2!!!

bonus from my beautiful beautiful mind:

[danisbrainrot]

uno reverse card-ing you the question.. whixh yellowjacket you relate to the most 🎤

. . . misty and I'm slightly embarrassed by that. but just, the moment I saw her character (especially teen misty) I felt so seen. I was like "holy fuck, that's me." because my entire life I've always felt left out and like people don't really like me, so I overcompensate by trying to be as helpful as possible (even if I get in the way). then even when I try to help, and think "oh, they might like me," I go and do something that makes me sure they hate me.

I also feel like everyone sees me as weird and annoying. sometimes I wonder if people find it like a chore to hang out with me, and if I get rejected I take it very deeply. even if it's something stupid like "oh sorry, I can't hang out this week."

so when she destroyed that black box, because she was finally wanted by everyone I was like, I get you girl, that's so something I'd do. because I get it. there's this group I used to desperately want to be a part of, but I was always like this outsider. they didn't see me as "them" so I was always just there. I hated it. I really did. if I had crashed with them, and I was the only medical person on call, I'd so pull a misty.

I also overshare A LOT. I'm awkward, I don't understand why people might dislike me, I can be annoying. I have hobbies that I obsess over and talk about non stop (her being a detective, me loving yj) and I just totally understand her.

also, I lose friendships ALL the time because I say the wrong thing. (of course, I don't accidentally get them killed afterwards like her, but they're dead to me and I have to mourn the loss, so it's sort of similar).

anyways, this turned into a really long ramble, so basically, whenever I see misty on screen I just wanna give her a hug. it's like seeing a younger version of me.

I hate how much I see myself in her, because let's be real, you don't really want to see yourself in any of the yj girls, but her most of all. so, yeah, I can't help it. is it embarrassing? yes. but am I working on it? god I hope so.

[cringewritinginprocess]

Torn Loyalties: Chapter Two

Summery: Secrets Coming out and tensions rise.

Word Count: 2216

Rating: May raise but, right now its General Audience/teens maybe teen. Expect usual TVDU level of violence as it gets further

A/N: -

Chapter One

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

Gabriel knocked on the Salvatore's door, Elena answered. "How did I know I'd find you here?" Gabriel said lightly, and she looked awkward.

"Gabriel." Damon said behind her.

"Damon." He responded.

"You two met?" Elena said, confused.

"Mhmm. Let me in." He returned, and they stepped back. Gabriel headed in. "So, vampires, Elena? Really?"

"You know?"

"People in this town are… so oblivious." He said and looked to Damon.

"Check out the Vervain, Elena." Damon said dryly.

"…Huh."

"Yeah. So, why does John hate you, other than the obvious?"

"Mainly the obvious. But there's also a vague fact that he wants me to do something, and I don't want to do it."

"Hmm, what's that?"

"I don't trust you."

"Weird choice from the vampire who stakes his own kind to save his own skin."

"… Harsh. You just hunt us for money."

"I hunt Obvious Vampires that made enemies."

"Hmm. So, not me?"

"Damon. People hate the Salvatore brothers. But most of the ones who care enough don't have anything worth the trade, and now, Elena's dating Stefan. So, congrats, you're officially off limits."

"Good. I don't like being on peoples lists. Can I have the names of the ones who tried?"

"No."

"Ugh. Annoying."

"Mhmm. Elena, you're abandoning me with John in that house. Why?"

"I'm avoiding him. I was just on my way out. You coming?"

"No. I'll bother Damon for a minute."

"Right…" She said, looking worried.

"Who?"

"What?" She asked, confused.

"Who do you think is going to hurt who?" Gabriel asked her with a sigh.

"… Just be careful." She said, turning to the door.

"I am Not that bad." Damon said dryly. "And anyway, how did you know about me?" He asked as Elena closed the door behind her.

"I have my tricks and secrets." He hummed. "Where's your brother?"

"In the basement. In time out." He said dryly, and Gabriel smiled slightly.

"Sorry. Blood addicted vampire is the norm, right?"

"Not to this level. You here to convince me to help your uncle?"

"I'm not a kill all vampires hunter." He said, shaking his head. "I'm just bored and avoiding him. You're like repellent."

"Ouch. And I wish. He keeps turning up."

"Hmm, fair enough. I also want to ask a… slightly un-bias source. Alaric Saltzman, what's he like?"

"Hunter. Kinda hates me. Tried to kill me. Seems good otherwise. Worried about your aunt?"

"Yes. She doesn't exactly have the best track record. Elena picks boring, Jeremys… unfortunate, Jenna picks pricks."

"Elena's dating my brother."

"Mhmm. I'm waiting to be proved wrong."

~

"They were leaving." Gabriel said lightly after John staked two vampires. "Why would you do that?"

"They're still vampires." He said simply as they walked to the car.

"They didn't hurt anyone, blood from bags, stayed in one house. They just wanted a normal life." He continued as they got back to the car, and John dropped his bag into the trunk.

"A vampire is a vampire. And that means they should be dead. That's our Family, Gabriel."

"Your family. I'm not doing that. You'd kill every Vampire in town? Stefan? Elena's boyfriend?"

"Yes. Just like Grayson would have."

"Maybe it's a good thing Dad was Already disappointed in me when he died then. Because he couldn't view me worse than him sending me away to an incompetent hunter."

"Is that why you didn't come to the funeral?"

"No. My invitation seemed to get lost in the mail. No one Told me until after."

"Have you even visited them?"

"Have you?" John frowned and pulled his phone out, calling the sheriff pointing to the car.

Gabriel stared for a moment, and when John turned his back on him, he turned around and walking away from him and the car.

He made his way to the road almost home when John pulled up beside him. "Get in the car."

"Screw you."

"Re, get-"

"Don't. Don't call me that." He snapped, then continued to walk and heard a car door close. John was walking beside him, and he continued to ignore him.

"Do you have any idea-! I thought a vampire grabbed you, Gabriel!"

"They didn't, all safe. You can leave now." John grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. "You know, you're getting a little too quick to grab me."

"You think?"

"Yes. Get off me." He snapped.

"Are you going to listen to me?"

"You're not my Dad. Not even my legal guardian. So no. I'm not. I'm going back to see Jenna. Who Is, in fact, legally in charge."

"I'm still family."

"I barely have a family. You and Dad decided that for me. I'm trying to get that back best I can if you don't mind." He said, ripping from him.

"There's a Reason Greyson asked me."

"I don't care." He said snapped back quickly. John went as if to speak before heading back to his car as Gabriel continued away from him.

~

Almost all of the next day, Gabriel hid out at the grill with his laptop and a notebook until he saw Elena meeting someone, a vampire. He frowned for a moment and slipped his things into his bag, and went to head out, assuming Damon would know why. But the women stopped him.

"Gabriel?"

The teen looked to Elena and then to her. "Do I… know you?"

"No, not yet. I'm Isobel. Your sister searched for me." She said, and he nodded.

"Okay… creepy. I'm -"

"I'm your mother." She said.

He stilled where he was going to point to the exit hand slowly lowering as he finally met her eyes, then looked to Elena, who immediately looked away.

He expression fell to an uncharacteristically neutral one. "You're mistaken. My mom was Miranda Sommers-Gilbert." He said flatly.

"She never gave birth to you."

"… Even so. You're no mother. You're a vicious leech here to blackmail someone, aren't you?"

Isobel smiled lightly. "Brave."

"Elena. We're both leaving."

"Are you?" Isobel asked as Elena stood.

"He's right."

"Elena, sit down." She said simply. "And call off your boyfriend." Elena slowly sat. "You too."

He tilted his head to one side and smiled in amusement. "Bite me." He said simply and turning to leave.

She didn't follow.

Gabriel got home eyes red from holding back tears as he walked to the kitchen on instinct. He went to make coffee and ended up scolding his hand and moved to the sink with a loud swear.

"Are you okay?" Jenna asked, coming in, and he turned to look at her.

"Am I… I'm adopted?" He asked and she looked slightly horrified and the tears hit him harder then expected not even remembering to turn off the tap as he turned sliding down the counter as tears fell chest shaking as he tried not to sob.

Jenna moved to his side taking the short second to turn the tap off before wrapping his arms around him and he, despite wanting to pull away, ended up curling into her crying silently into her shoulder as she ran a hand through his hair softly.

There were footsteps coming into the room, and Gabriel didn't move, but Jenna looked up, seeing John looking genuinely worried.

Gabriel slowly pulled away and pulled his knees to his chest. "Is that the real reason they didn't keep me when I came out?" He asked, not looking.

"What?" It was John who spoke.

"He found out he's adopted." Jenna said simply. "No -"

"Of course not." John cuts her off. "They loved you."

"I spent over a quarter of my life without them. Dad never even called more then… twice." He said shakily.

"He loved you." John repeated. "They just thought, small town, better if you came back the man you wanted to be. Rather than let the people throw you off of your course."

"I would have been happier with my family. Who apparently didn't care enough to tell me I wasn't family."

"You're still family." Jenna said sharply. Gabriel looked to her in surprise. "No matter what happens. You're family. Okay? You are my nerdy nephew, Jeremy's big brother and Elenas trouble making Twin."

"Does Jer know?"

"I think Elena planned to tell him, did she tell you?"

"No. I found out in the Grill." He said and pushed up, pulling his hoodie off, leaving him in his vest, showing scars that cover the newly exposed skin.

"Gabe…" Jenna said, getting to her feet, catching his wrists.

"What happened?"

"Which ones? …. scrap that. Violent dog. Wrong place, wrong time." He told her, but she didn't look like he believed him. "Honestly, Aunt Jenna. I'm okay. Sorry for… that. I'm usually better at emotion… That's a lie."

"Yeah, that's a lie. You just usually don't do sad." Jenna agreed, and she pulled him into another hug. They heard Jeremy coming, leaving someone a voicemail. 

Gabriel pulled back eyes flick to his arms, and grabbed his hoodie again, pulling it on with a sigh and pushed to his feet.

"How is Anna? I like that girl, she has fire." Jenna asked as they both stood, turning to Jeremy.

"I don't know. She won't return my calls." He said carefully, seeming slightly confused.

"Girl trouble?" John asked.

"No, no trouble. Anna just owes me a call, that's it."

"Is that the girl that I show you with at the Founders' pageant? You two are getting hot and heavy. When was the last time you saw her?"

"Why?" Jeremy asked, looking to him with a frown.

"I was just making conversation. No one else in this house likes me." John said. Jenna and Gabriel looked to each other and shrugged. "At least I can talk to you, especially if you need someone to talk to about girls."

"I'm also available for girl talk. If you want someone to talk to, that isn't… John." He offered jokingly, and Jeremy laughed.

"You don't even like girls."

"I just prefer men. And girls like me." He shrugged, and Jeremy laughed.

"That's my cue to leave." Jenna said, heading out.

"So, seriously, how well do you know Anna?" John asked, heading into the kitchen properly. Gabriel started back making coffee again, careful not to burn himself again.

"I know Anna extremely well."

"I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I'm here to answer any questions that you have to help you in any way I can." John said carefully. Gabriel passed Jeremy a coffee, and he took it, still looking to John.

"Why?"

"Because your dad would want me to."

"I'm ah…" He frowned. "I'm good." He said, heading out of the kitchen.

"John. That's not going to help. Why are you actually interested in Anna?"

"Pretty sure she's a vampire." He said simply once Jeremy was gone.

"Don't… Don't kill his girlfriend." He sighed. "I'm going out." He said, taking a drink before dropping the cup by the sink.

"We should talk about the scars -"

"No. I'm good, thanks." He said, grabbing his backpack and paused, when he saw Elena walk in. Then he turned and went out the back door instead.

Gabriel looked around before slipping through the back window of a house with a foreclosure sign out front. He dropped his bag and shifted, sitting crossed legged pulling out books, looking through the couple of bestiaries, and the new journal he'd been sent. He twisted the pen in his pen and started to write skipping over the first page.

As soon as they did, their phone rang, and he hit answer, continuing to write.

`You're finally using it?` The man said lightly that caused his pen to stop for a short moment before it continued.

"That's creepy."

`The witch told me the spell finally took effect, Love. Have you been busy?`

"Family drama. Found out I'm adopted. I was officially the last one to know." He said simply.

`Ah, that's never fun. I wasn't happy when I found out Father wasn't my father. How are you handling it?`

"Pissed at my siblings for not to telling me. But it makes sense, I guess."

`Of course. So, are you using it as a diary?`

"No. No way. I'm making my own version a Bestiary." He said with a smile.

`Ah, so you don't have to just edit one?`

"Some are so bad." Gabriel chuckled softly. "And this one means I can put, actually Events in, and nothing can be used against me. Or you."

`Sweet of you to think so. Do I get my own section?`

"Weirdo."

`I'm serious! I deserve my own entry.`

"Fine, but that means if I ever meet another, they also do."

`Ugh, must they?`

"Yes. Oh, there's a vampire in town, a nuisance. Kind of want to kill her. But nothing serious."

`Hmm, nothing otherwise notable?`

"No. No, new witches to register. A couple of harmless vampires with hunters to match."

`Right. How's the place you're staying?`

"Boring but still drama. I am currently borrowing a foreclosure to get away from everything."

`Not the most expensive one though?`

"No, still a higher one though. I wish I had compulsion. So much easier to do things."

`Can't have it without the rest, love.`

"Mhmmm, not that worth it, not yet. How's the newest witch?"

`Amazing.`

"Powerful enough?"

`Not alone.`

"Shame."

[khande11]

Millie Winchester- Season 1

Shadow- 2

"Sam, is that you? Oh, my Gosh!" Meg grinned, standing up to hug him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm just in town- visiting friends."

"Where are they?" Meg asked, looking around.

"Well, they're not here right now, but what about you, Meg? I thought you were going to California." Sam said, as Millie and Dean joined his side.

"Oh, I did. I came. I saw. I conquered. Oh, and I met what's his name- something Michael Murray- at a bar."

"Who?" 

"Oh, it doesn't matter. Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while."

Dean cleared his throat, trying to catch their attention, but he was ignored, which made Millie smirk slightly.

"You're from Chicago?" Sam asked.

"No, Massachusetts- Andover. Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other?"

"Yeah, I know, I thought I'd never see you again."

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong." Meg smiled. Dean cleared his throat again, louder this time, which caught Meg's attention. "Dude, cover your mouth."

Millie had to cover her snort at Dean's face, while Sam finally took notice of his siblings. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Meg. This is, um- this is my brother, Dean and my sister, Millie."

"This is Millie and Dean?" Meg asked, surprised.

"Yeah."

"So, you've heard of us?" Dean smiled.

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of you. Nice- the way you treat your brother like luggage and put your sister in the middle of it." Meg glared.

"Sorry?" Dean asked, confused, while Millie raised an eyebrow in confusion and annoyance.

"Why don't you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God's green earth and stop making your sister pick a side."

"Meg... it's all right." Sam smiled, assuredly.

Dean whistled, while Millie kissed her teeth, torn between appreciating her defensiveness over Sam, but really not liking the way she judged Dean before even meeting him. Especially with how much he does for her and Sam.

"Okay. Awkward." Dean chuckled, nervously, then took notice of his sister's face and grabbed her arm. "We're gonna get a drink now."

Sam and Meg watched as the puzzled Dean dragged Millie, who was looking Meg up and down, to the bar.

"Sam, I'm sorry. It's just, the way you told me he treats you, if it were me I'd kill him." Meg said.

"It's all right. He means well." Sam nodded, while Meg glanced at the bar.

"I think your sister hates me." Meg smiled, sheepishly.

"Oh, no. She... it's not really her thing to hate people. She's just... protective of me and Dean." Sam shrugged, knowing Millie would be fine once she cooled off. 

"Ok, good. Well, we should hook up while you're in town."

"Yeah."

"I'll show you a hell of a time."

"You know what, that sounds great. Why don't you give me your number?" Sam asked, taking out his cell phone.

"312-555-0143."

"You know what? I never got your last name."

"Masters."

"Masters?"

"So, you better call."

"Scout's Honor."

"I hope to see you around, Sam." Meg smiled at Sam, who smiled back, then left to join his brother and sister.

"Who the hell was she?" Dean asked, as they left the bar.

"I don't really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don't know man, it's weird."

"What was she saying- Dean treats you like luggage and puts me in the middle? Who does she think she is?" Millie asked, still annoyed by the interaction.

"Yeah, what, were you bitching about me to some chick?" Dean asked.

"Look, I'm sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that's not important, just listen-"

"Well, is there any truth to what she's saying?" Dean interrupted. "I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?"

"No, of course not. Now, would you listen?"

"What?"

"I think there's something strange going on here, guys."

"Yeah, tell me about it. She wasn't even that into me." Dean complained, and Millie lightly smacked his chest.

"No, man, I mean, like our kind of strange." Sam elaborated. "Like, maybe even a lead."

"Why do you say that?" Millie asked.

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? The same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural. You don't think that's a little weird?"

"I don't know, random coincidence. It happens." Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong. I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on."

"But, I bet you'd like to." Dean smirked, as Millie and Sam gave him an exasperated look. "But maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you got a thing for her, huh? Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?"

"Millie?" Sam turned to his sister, hoping to talk to an adult.

Millie shrugged. "I mean, you've known her longer than us. If you really think there's something up... what do you want us to do?"

"Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor." Sam told them. 

"What are you gonna do?" Millie asked.

"I'm gonna watch Meg."

"Yeah, you are." Dean laughed.

"I just want to see what's what. Better safe than sorry."

"All right, you little pervert."

"Dude."

"We're going. We're going." Millie said, grabbing Dean's arm and crossing the street. She looked at Dean, who still had a smirk on his face. "It's not funny."

"It's a little funny." Dean chuckled.

....

"All right, it's a little funny."

***************

Millie and Dean were at the motel. Millie was at the computer, looking up Meg, while Dean was reading over her shoulder, having given up asking if there were any other photos of Meg that needed 'looking over'. After finding what they needed, Dean decided to call Sam, putting him on speakerphone.

"Hey."

"Let me guess. You're lurking outside that poor girl's apartment, aren't you?"

"No... yes."

"You've got a funny way of showing your affection."

"Did you find anything on her or what?"

"Sorry, man, she checks out." Millie said, reading the screen. "There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phonebook."

"We even pulled up her high school photo. Now, why don't you go knock on her door and invite her to a poetry reading or whatever it is you do, huh?" Dean suggested.

"What about the symbol? Any luck?" Sam asked, ignoring the poetry comment.

"Yeah, that I did have some luck with." Dean said, looking through his research. "It's, uh- turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old-school, like 2,000 years before Christ. It's a sigil for a Daeva."

"What's a Daeva?"

"It translates to 'demon of darkness'." Dean explained. "Zoroastrian demons, and they're savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes- Kind of like demonic pit bulls."

"How'd you figure that out?"

"Give me some credit, man. You and Millie don't have a corner on paper chasing around here."

"Oh, yeah? Name the last book you read." Sam challenged. Dean tried to think for a moment, before giving up.

"No, I called Dad's friend, Caleb. He told me, all right?"

"Yeah." Sam grinned.

"Anyway, here's the thing- these Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured."

"So someone's controlling it?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying. And from what I gather, it's pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them."

"And the arms and the torsos." Millie added.

"So, what do they look like?"

"Well, nobody knows. Nobody's seen them for a couple of millennia." Millie said.

"I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we've got a major player in town. Now, why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?" Dean suggested, as Millie scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Bite me." 

"No, bite her. Don't leave teeth marks, though. Sam? Are you-?" Dean stopped, realising that Sam had hung up. He turned and noticed the confused look Millie was giving him. "What?"

"You couldn't think of a single book?" Millie asked, referring to Sam's challenge. 

"Shut up."

[dovand]

P.G. Wodehouse characters on panel shows

Because I had A Thought in the jerver (Jeeves x Wooster server) and had to expand it to Many Thoughts, owing to my normalness about both Wodehouse and britcom :)

Long & incredibly niche post (x"D) under the cut!

Preface: Characters covered vary and I may not be entirely accurate as I have not consumed as much Wodehouse as I'd like. Polite discussion entirely welcome (and, in fact, desired)!

QI

Jeeves would do well fact-wise but, owing to the fact that he does not watch the show and thus does not understand the format, would, on attempting to make a joke, be klaxoned to hell and back (possibly via goading by Alan). Unless he very carefully managed to dodge the goading he would not win and would be very bitter about it

The Elves would absolutely adore him btw. There'd be a behind the scenes photo of him looking puzzled/slightly scared while the Elves who are there on filming days all pose around him and grin at the camera

Would never forget to use his buzzer (regardless of how embarrassing it is) because he feels bad about interrupting. Would be very much unnerved by Stephen (obviously) and perhaps a little intimidated by how flamboyant he is. Aisling Bea would like him I think

Wooster would have no idea what was going on but would be endearing enough to make up for it entirely. Sort of like Johnny Vegas. He would have to be stopped forcibly from going on long rambling anecdotes a la Gyles Brandreth. If the host is Stephen he will not be paying any attention to anything being said the entire evening. Might win entirely by accident because he's saying nothing remotely relevant & thus is never klaxoned. (Though tbh he might have a heart attack before even starting the show on account of seeing a man who appears pretty much to be Jeeves wearing colour!)

Would get along well with Bill Bailey I think—agents of chaos the both of them. Alan would make fun of Wooster for being posh (a la the way the panel usually makes fun of Stephen). Would do very well on live demos. Stephry would adore him & he would not know what to do with it ("why is campier Jeeves so enamoured of me?"). Sandi would LOVE him. Might bring a blue whale plushie along for emotional support

Ukridge (and here my Wodehouse knowledge starts to thin) would very confidently be very incorrect but would be so charismatic about it that the Elves would forget to klaxon him until he was done speaking. Almost Rhod Gilbert-y levels of accidentally-on-purpose annoying (see: Rhod claiming that it gets totally dark at night in Denmark for like 5 minutes). Gyles Brandreth-levels of ability to talk at length. He starts spontaneously filibustering in the middle of the episode

8oo10cdc

(A.K.A. 8 out of 10 Cats Does Countdown, but the full acronym is so much more fun)

Jeeves wins. Obviously. He would be guest team captain I think, and he would absolutely carry. Jon would be awkward the whole episode because he's being outperformed by this weird posh guy. The jokes about Jimmy being weird and non-expressive and android-like would be redirected at Jeeves and he would just kind of stare blankly at them

His mascot would be something very simple or something very strange/non-humorous (like. Not even a lucky fancy pen, just a fancy pen that writes well that he can use for the working-out). He'd get the conundrum immediately

If Joe Wilkinson was on to do A Bit you'd be able to see him looking confused in the background the entire time

Wooster is hopeless. Maybe if he's on a team with Jon or Jeeves he'd be able to scrape some points but, realistically, he's drawing on his paper the whole time. He takes to the mascot-ing with abject glee & does very well with that. Panel is not sure whether to make fun of Jimmy or Wooster for being posh. Russell Howard would like him

Would be delighted by a Joe cameo. Would be very polite when requesting his letters and/or numbers. Would delight Susie Dent

Ukridge is in Dictionary Corner fucking shit up. If he knows how to work PowerPoint then he's got a PowerPoint to back up his little bit of standup; if not he's got hand-drawn posters. Nobody is quite sure what he's talking about. There's something about ungulates in there. Possibly a mention of cellular respiration. He spends the whole episode asking Jimmy for money. He gets on with Joe.

Corky, for reasons* that go entirely unexplained sits quietly next to Ukridge in Dictionary Corner for the whole episode. He is not mentioned by name once. People in the YouTube comments are asking who the weird silent guy is & if anyone else can see him & if it's some avant-garde Bit that they're doing. Someone says they wish that they'd've tried this Bit out with Jimmy

(*He's emotional support)

Archie Moffam starts crying

Mock the Week

Wooster is entirely unfamiliar with current events. Lends a Milton Jones air to the whole panel. Dressed similarly to Ed Byrne; they are both made fun of for wearing waistcoats

Jeeves is not asked onto the show because he would start doing actual fully-fledged political commentary and being so good at it that nobody would feel comfortable interrupting him

Ukridge would have either Egg Scramble (i.e. Ed Gamble) or Milton Jones vibes for reasons I cannot explain. Would get distracted by the flies & start trying to catch them in his hands

Corky is too soft-spoken to get a word in edgewise

Would I Lie To You?

Jeeves has an excellent poker face & ability to distinguish truths from lies, rendering him excellent at parlour games. Unfortunately he does not understand what there is to be enjoyed in them & as such is only invited on for one episode. He does get into a good little argument with David about something horribly pedantic, though. Also Rob makes fun of him by doing his O.O face into camera and Jeeves entirely misses it

Wooster is great at telling stories but horrible at lying. Everyone loves having him on because he tells a captivating story but it's so so easy to tell when he's lying. Might team up with Lee to annoy David. Rob really likes him. Starts spinning on his chair when they're doing pick-ups, distracting everyone

Ukridge is pretty good at playing. His comedic rant abilities rival David's, except he's not actually really trying to be comedic. All his stories end up being about Schemes & he writes them down during the episode planning to try them. People think this is a bit. It is not.

Only Connect

Jeeves is far too literally-minded for the connecting board but he does remarkably well on the rest of it. Victoria pokes fun at him the entire episode for being posh. He does not notice

Wooster's mind works in such mysterious circuitous ways that he's actually rather good at the connecting board. Unfortunately he is bollocks at the rest of it

Big Fat Quiz

Jeeves does not do very well. Too much pop culture for him

Wooster also does not do very well. His mind is like a sieve except the sieve has very big holes. Or maybe even no holes tbh. So basically his mind is like a sieve if you took the mesh out and all you have left is the metal loop around the top. Essentially he remembers nothing about anything. He brings homemade* sandwiches for the snacking segment. He is goofy & delightful enough that he does quite well be he is not invited back on account of performing so terribly. He does wear a spiffing outfit for the occasion though

(*i.e. Jeeves-made)

Ukridge does surprisingly well. He does start talking about his schemes though. He tries to get Jimmy in on them. He does not succeed

Corky is apparently the only chap who reads the newspapers. He does quite well!

Reggie Pepper also reads the newspapers but he is too busy being inexplicably hot while phoning people from bed so he only gets the barebones of most stories

Taskmaster

(I don't know if this really counts as a panel show, but what the hell.)

Jeeves takes everything literally and is very polite to Alex during all of the tasks. His prize tasks are almost all underwhelming except for one that is accidentally genius. He is so single-mindedly focused during studio tasks that he looks like he is about to murder someone the entire time. Surprise tasks/extra rules that he didn't notice prompt him to stare blankly into the middle distance. Greg is baffled by and attracted to him in equal measure throughout the season. The fanbase is very starkly divided on him. He probably wins the series but not many episodes

Wooster is a sort of Mike Wozniak figure. Endearingly baffled the entire time. Moves in an odd but captivating manner. Committed to the bit. Starts telling anecdotes while he's meant to be doing tasks. Absolutely delights Greg. Is probably lifted up in a studio session at least once (a la Jacaster)

Archie Moffam continues crying

Ukridge wears his mackintosh to studio sessions. He is overly familiar with Alex, who looks despairingly into the camera every time he is manhandled or asked to help with a Scheme. Every prize task is either an opportunity to get Greg in on a Scheme, or to offload things he does not need from previous unsuccessful (i.e. all) Schemes. He gets second place and is pleased as punch about it

That's about all I have at the present moment. Perhaps I'll update with more characters once I've ventured further into the House of Wode. Tootle-pip for now!

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i've said it before and i'll say it again: trent and nate's dynamic has got to be the funniest shit ever. their arc--like of how they know each other--is just genuinely fucking insane and it is so goddamn funny to me. first nate is just seemingly a random kitman and trent is a well-known, well-respected, definitely-a-huge-cunt-but-he-knows-what-he's-talking-about journalist. trent learns ted is taking cues from a kitman; he's incredulous but intrigued and doesn't dismiss this as insane, although he obviously notes that it's Fucking Weird, it's lumped in with his general opinion on ted's coaching style, which seems to be "fucking weird and no one else would do it but damn if it isn't interesting and possibly what we need".

presumably they have little to no contact for most of the first two seasons--trent probably at least has some idea of his prowess as a strategist, nate becomes a coach, they might even actually meet for press reasons at some point, no idea. also as a slightly nonlinear side note, unsure what nate would be thinking of trent from pre-canon to s2, but i would say a) it's possible that he does genuinely like/respect trent's work, as they're both pretty passionate about the sport and know their shit, b) he at least almost certainly thinks of trent as ruthless, hence why he goes to him to tear ted apart and hurt him as much as he can--although alternatively, it's possible that he just has noticed ted seems to like trent in particular and wants to hurt him that way, but i don't think that's the case. so i'd guess pre-canon he'd be intimidated by him but if he managed to hold a conversation with him (which he doesn't in canon, most likely) they'd actually get along pretty well, i think, especially talking about strategy and sports history. because s1 trent wasn't actually like, a cruel person, even if he'd done some less-than-kind writing, so i doubt when faced with someone like s1 nate he'd have been like, metaphorically shoving him in a locker. i think he mostly turns his snark on gaffers and players, usually perceived as assholes and possibly not entirely incorrectly, and also probably annoying coworkers. not so much nervous kitmen.

ANYWAY, nate never does see a softer side of him--and presumably isn't noticing how he talks to ted in the press conferences lkfhjfgh or only looking at the surface stuff--hence why he goes to him post s2. ANYWAY sorry i've gone on a tangent, i'll have to sum shit up at the end--anyway, so s2 finale happens. nate goes to trent with a huge, horrible scoop, and trent has to write it, but it makes him quit his job. so like, they know and probably at least mildly respect each other from afar, and then the s2 finale happens and that's gotta be awkward (especially as i'm not sure nate ever finds out that trent burned his source to ted? which i think trent did primarily because a) he respects and cares about ted and didn't want him to be blindsided by someone he trusts betraying him, b) it's ted, and he trusts him: he knows ted isn't going to do anything to nate or hurt him about this. debatable whether it was the right thing to do or not, but regardless, unsure how nate would react if he knew--it would really depend on when he finds out.) but anyway trent probably doesn't feel great about this--he genuinely likes ted and this basically makes him realize he kind of hates his job and doesn't like the person he is and that he wants something better, something that doesn't have him hurting genuinely kind people just because he's supposed to, so while obviously i can't imagine he's happy nate brought him this story--in fact, i imagine he hates it, for how it hurts ted if nothing else--in a way it also did give him the push he needed to change his life (and eventually led him to richmond in s3).

ANYWAY AGAIN, here comes the funny part which is then nate leaves richmond and trent joins richmond, loosens up, lets himself be the soft and nerdy little dork he always was, and then. then nate fucking comes back. and like. how the FUCK is that even going to go. like. they're just in the diamond dogs together now. nate just has to deal with the fact that Trent Crimm Is Here Now I Guess? We Like Him? He's Our Emotional Support Ex Journalist? and they're just like. yeah we're in a group of grown men who bark and howl like dogs and then talk about our feelings and we're just standing next to each other and this is fine. like. that is so fucking funny. i doubt there's any real animosity--i know fanon/fics often have trent being protective of ted and therefore venomous against nate but i just don't see that. it's not like he's thrilled at what nate did, but he knows he had his own part in it, and it's not his place to forgive or not forgive nate (that's ted's), and like. that hurt people hurt people, and nate was going through shit, and god knows trent's been there. so if nate is already in a place where he's sorry and he's worked shit out with ted, i can't imagine trent would be holding much of a grudge. (nate might think he does though, considering as far as he knows trent lost his job about it, but i can see him trying to apologize and then being gently rebuffed (about not needing to apologize to him i mean) and then... not sure how that conversation would go but i'd love to be a fly on the wall fghfgh) anyway grudge or not that doesn't mean it isn't FUCKING AWKWARD. like what a fucking trajectory. that is some funny shit.

like. okay, we go from 'kitman and scary journalist' to 'coach and scary journalist' to 'we both blew up ted lasso's life because you were having a crisis and that gave ME a crisis and i exploded my job about it' to 'coach of rival team and richmond's emotional support ex-journalist' to 'just two guys standing in the same room together. just two dudes part of the guys who howl and bark and talk about our feelings group. just two dudes with no history whatsoever. we're fine and everything is fine' ldgkjfhjfghfgh like this is FUCKING HYSTERICAL!!!!!

especially like. idk if word got around trent was writing a book while he was just hanging around richmond or if people would just spot him and go [squints] hang on is that. is that trent crimm? but i choose to believe nate didn't really know (we saw him see trent and ted talking once which--actually i'd love to know what he was thinking then, too) like he knew trent and ted were still talking but the idea of him coming back to richmond and everyone's just like yeah and trent's our mom now. what, why are you giving us that look. we've adopted him we're not giving him back. don't worry you're part of the family too. we're not giving you back either. hey did you know trent's a fucking dork? colin says he dances like a dad at a wedding and we've got plans to get everyone drunk so we can see too. why are you looking at us like that it's not weird he's our little guy now. nate is just like (chose trent specifically because he's supposed to be a huge cunt) but isn't he. you know. (jan maas: are you trying to say journo or cunt?) yeah. that. (colin: nah not really boyo. i mean, we've all been cunts before, right? (sounds of agreement)) (nate kinda goes yeah fair enough)

also again this is immediately made ten thousand times funnier if tedependent happens ngl.

[pjsk-writin]

BASICALLY…..

AKITO X GN READER (I PREFER FEM BUT IDRC)

IGNORE IF YOU DONT LIKE

BUT THEY HATE EACH OTHER. BUT ONE DAY AKITO NEEDED SOMEONE TO BE THEIR GF/BF BECAUSE ENA WAS TEASING HIM AND HE SAID HE WASNT SINGLE, AND ENA WANTED PROOF, SO SHE ASKED AKITO TO GO ON DOUBLE WITH ENA AND MIZUKI AND HIS LOVER, BUT EVERYONE HE ASKED KEPT REFUSING CAUSE THEY WERE BUSY. THEN HE SAID READER, AND READER REFUSED, BUT THEN EVENTUALLY READER SAID YES, SO THEY HAD A FAKE RELATIONSHIP AND ONLY VBS KNEW IT WAS FAKE, BUT AFTER SOME TIME READER AND AKITO EVENTUALLY FALLS IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER

THIS IDEA JUST CAME UP FROM MY HEAD FROM NOWHERE, BUT ANYWAYS TAKE UR TIME <333

CAN I BE -🍰 ANON

weheh this was fun to write ! i will say that i don't write mizuki ships, so ena's s/o is left vague- there's also already a 🍰 anon, but feel free to choose another emoji ! other than that, i hope u like this ! <3

♡ FAKE DATING...UNLESS - Akito Shinonome x Reader

It was well known that Akito and you had a rivalry of sorts. Well, rivalry may not have been the best word for it, but you both hated each other-

Which is why it was weird that he approached you without any insults thrown your way. It was also why it was even weirder when he asked you out on a date

"A date?" You scoff, rolling your eyes at him. "The last person I'd ever want to go on a date with is you, Shinonome-"

He briefly explains how Ena had been making fun of him, how he claimed that he had a s/o already, and how she invited him out on a double date. The only issue being that he had lied about having a s/o

"I know, I know!" He sighs, shaking his head, "Listen, you're the last person I'd ask out, but everyone I was going to ask is busy and I need a date-"

"Damn, can't even get a date without crawling to me, huh?" He stays silent at that, and you grin in triumph. "Why do you need a date anyway?"

As much as you held distaste towards him, he promised that he would repay you by doing whatever you wanted, so you obliged

Although the date felt incredibly awkward for the two of you, you at least succeeded in your act. Ena was just as surprised to see you as you felt to even be there

The two of you had to keep the act up, much to your displeasure, and the only people who really knew it was fake was VBS

An would constantly tease the both of you when you were alone, calling you both, "The cutest couple around!" Akito proceeds to fight her off-

Despite the lies and overall annoyance towards each other, you both found that there was...Something actually growing between you

It was annoying as all hell to admit, but god, he was stupidly charming and wonderful to be around...

Akito may have always held some hate towards you, but he couldn't help but notice all of the sweet little things that made him fall for you

It was a random "fake" lunch date the two of you were having when Akito gave you a weirdly serious look

"Okay, let me be real for a second." You tilt your head a bit, nodding at him to continue. He sighs before taking a bite of his cheesecake, face slightly red 

"I know this was all...An act, but I kind of...I dunno, I kind of want it to be real?" When you smiled, he assumed you were about to make fun of him, so he sighed, shaking his head. "Nevermind, I-"

"No! No, I...I kind of want this to be real too." Akito blinked before beaming at you, glancing down at his food before glancing back at you

"I guess we can say this is our first official date then?" You laugh, nodding with a hum. ​"I guess we can."