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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 5 days

Note

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

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You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else.

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places.

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize.

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in.

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to.

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods.

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own.

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly, and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things -

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s?

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous?

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions.

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself.

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic.

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side.

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?”

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary.

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know?

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.”

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?”

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.”

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad.

“I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper.

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew.

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?”

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face.

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?”

#spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert

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sluttywonwoo · 4 months

Text

instead of you [part thirty-seven] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: public-ish sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), switch!minho

“So, what movie are we seeing?” you asked, exhaling deeply to try and physically release the stress you’d been holding.

Minho pursed his lips, making you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “So the thing is, it’s not really a movie, movie.”

“Minho, what are we watching?”

He mumbled it. “A BTS concert from 2019.”

“You took me to see your own movie?”

“It’s what they were showing! I had nothing to do with it, like they’re in the middle of a marathon. Last week they showed one from 2018.”

“Seems awfully convenient,” you mused.

“Trust me, I know. I thought I was losing my mind when I looked at their website earlier. But I promise I had nothing to do with it. Apparently, they have a really big fanbase in Hawai’i. You really think I’m so tacky I’d take a date to my own gig?”

“No comment.”

“Listen, I wouldn’t have taken you to a K-pop thing if there was something else playing, but there’s only the one lot. The music is good, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

Minhno smirked. “I do say so. I think you’ll like it, actually.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, I hear there’s someone very good-looking performing.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Oh yeah, they’re supposed to be really handsome, right?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather fuck you,” you quipped. He raised an eyebrow suggestively, making you laugh.

“What are we doing here, then?”

“We’re on our date!”

“But we could leave.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to get into my pants on the first date,” you scoffed.

“I don’t have to try,” Minho pointed out. “I was already successful before our date. Many times, actually.”

“I was there, you don’t have to remind me.”

“Are you sure?”

You rolled your eyes through a grin. “Positive.”

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you assured him, leaning over the center console to nudge his shoulder.

You stayed there, shoulders resting against each other. He looked over and smiled at you before reaching for your hand and taking it in his. He lifted his other hand to check his watch.

“The movie starts in about ten. I know they have a concession stand but if you want snacks you’ll probably have to be the one to get them. I can give you the money, obviously, I just can’t…”

“Leave the car,” you finished for him.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I’ll go see what they have,” you decided. Minho handed you his wallet but you didn’t take it. “It’s on me. You bought the movie tickets.”

“You know I’m in this movie, right? You don’t have to worry about splitting the cost of everything.”

“I know, just, let me do this.”

Minho held his hands up in surrender and pocketed his wallet. “Fine, fine. Can you get me a beer?”

“Sure. Any kind in particular?”

“Whatever they have is fine. I’m not picky.”

You nodded and stepped out of the car, smoothing your dress out in case it had ridden up. You stood on your tip toes and craned your neck to try and find the concession stand above all of the cars.

Luckily, there was a big neon sign that read CONCESSIONS with an arrow pointing to a kiosk that was presumably sitting underneath it.

You wove inefficiently through the parking lot over to the sign, sighing when you spotted the long line. It was moving pretty fast so you didn’t have to wait very long and by the time you made it to the front, you still hadn’t decided what to get.

The woman behind the counter looked bored and impatient so naturally, you panicked.

“Hi, um can I please get a medium popcorn and two Nerds Ropes?”

“Anything to drink?”

Your eyes flicked to the menu overhead but all of the options seemed to blend together in an unintelligible jumble. “Uh, a water bottle and a peach High Noon, please. And what kind of beer do you guys have?”

She listed off a handful. You chose the first one you recognized and hoped it was one Minho wouldn’t mind too much. You waited as she ID’ed you and rang you up, dropping a couple of bills in the tip jar when she handed you your change.

You had stupidly declined a tray so you had to very precariously carry everything back to the car in your arms. It was one of those establishments that took the caps off of bottled drinks and opened cans before you were allowed to leave the counter which meant you had to be extra careful with how you balanced things so that nothing would spill.

“You good?” Minho asked, watching you struggle with everything. “I’d help, but that would kind of defeat the purpose of not going to get the stuff in the first place.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted.

He didn’t look convinced but it wasn’t like he could do anything but watch so he didn’t comment further until you were seated again.

“What’d you end up getting?”

“Well, popcorn.”

“It’s not a movie without it.”

“Exactly,” you agreed and handed him the bucket. “And I got us a water to share and some Nerds Ropes, I hope you like those.”

“Love em.”

“And then I got myself a High Noon and I got you a Heineken. I’m sorry, I blanked when she told me all of the types of beer they served and chose the first one I knew.”

“It’s okay! I told you I’m not picky. Heinekens are fine, babe, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Minho chuckled and took a sip from the bottle as if to prove to you that he liked them. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t they be? Do you have something against Heinekins?”

You made a face. “Bad memories.”

“Mm, I see. In that case, I won’t offer you any.”

“Thank you. Did you want to try some of my drink?”

“Sure, what’d you say it was?”

You passed it to him. “A High Noon. Have you never had one?”

“No, I don’t usually go for seltzers.” You watched him take a sip, laughing when he made a similar face to the one you had made just a few moments prior. “Oh god, the bubbles hurt.”

“How big of a sip did you take?!”

“A regular-sized sip! The carbonation is just a lot!”

“You’re so dramatic. Beer is also carbonated!”

“Not that carbonated!”

You rolled your eyes. “You just enjoy your drink and I’ll enjoy mine.”

“Gladly.”

Just then, the parking lot’s overhead lights dimmed. The projector flickered to life, casting the station to which to tune your car’s radio. Minho fidgeted with the dial until it was tuned to the right frequency.

“Welcome to Aloha Drive-In’s adult-only feature film of the night! We have late-night showings for ages eighteen and up every weekday.”

“What makes it adults-only?” you asked aloud. “Is it actually a strip show or something?”

“They serve alcohol,” Minho explained. “Something with the licensing prevents them from offering it during regular showings.”

“Oh.”

“I can give one when we get back later, though.”

“Only if you sing the whole time.”

He grinned. “Name the song, I’ll do it.”

“Please stay in your car for the duration of the film unless you need the restroom or concessions. In case of emergency...”

You listened to the rest of the spiel in silence, snacking lightly on what you’d bought until the BigHit logo appeared on the screen.

You had to admit that it was a pretty good concert, even though you didn’t have a lot of context as to what was going on. It seemed like there were a lot of inside jokes between the artists and the fans that you were missing because you weren’t a fan.

Minho pointed himself out during each song, sometimes giving extra context to the performances, like how long rehearsals were for them or how they had to change the choreography because someone named J-hope didn’t like the way the formations looked.

You realized this was the first time you were seeing Minho dance. And he was good. You knew he wasn’t the focal point of the concert but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He made all of the movements look so easy, so natural.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you, gauging your reactions. You could tell he was pleased by how entranced you were and even though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of ogling over him, it was impossible not to.

You were surprised by how many of the songs were... sexy. The subtitles didn’t translate the lyrics, only the dialogue, but from the dance moves, you got the feeling that they weren’t all PG.

“I thought you said this wasn’t a striptease,” you muttered, watching the dancers’ hips roll in time with the music.

Minho laughed. “We’re not stripping,” he insisted.

“You might as well be.”

“Just keep watching.”

You did, keeping your attention on on-screen Minho. The camera cut to him for a brief second as he had a moment with one of the members and you almost gasped out loud as he wrapped a hand around the older man’s neck. You shifted in your seat, squeezing your thighs together as the Minho on the screen squeezed Namjoon’s (?) throat. Minho’s gaze fell to your lap when he caught the movement of your legs.

“Are you cold?”

“Um, a little,” you lied.

You were in fact, not cold at all. You were actually feeling a little warm.

“Here,” Minho said, reaching behind him to grab something. It was a blanket, and he draped it over your legs. “Don’t worry, it’s not the same one from the beach.”

You nodded in appreciation, grateful that he had clarified that it was a clean blanket and not the one that had been laid down in the sand and had sex on top of from the night before.

Minho kept a hand on your thigh even after he’d situated the blanket on your lap.

“Warming you up,” he explained before you could ask.

You were a little suspicious of his true intentions but he wasn’t moving his hand and he had gone back to watching the movie so you let it go.

The snacks you bought lasted you throughout the majority of the film. Once you’d finished them, you put the candy wrappers in the empty popcorn bowl and placed it on the floor of the car so that you could lean across the center console and rest your head on Minho’s shoulder. He met you halfway to make it less uncomfortable for you. It was a little awkward, trying to position yourselves in a way that felt natural.

Your suspicions about Minho’s hand were of course proved correct when you felt it begin to inch upward. Your thighs parted automatically for him before you could process what was happening. It was pathetic how responsive your body was to him.

“I’ve been trying so hard not to stare at you all night,” he confessed. “Look so fucking pretty in this dress.”

“You should try harder,” you teased, reminding him of when you had to kick him under the table at dinner with his family.

“You’d be doing the same thing if you were in my shoes,” he insisted.

“No, because I have self-control.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your panties.

You sucked in a breath, physically holding yourself back from arching into his touch.

“This isn’t affecting you at all?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“What about this?”

You knew he could feel how wet you were getting. It was pointless to lie. But even as he pulled your underwear to the side and teased you by putting the tip of his middle finger inside of you, you wouldn’t admit it.

“This is doing nothing for you?” Minho prodded, curling his finger in a little deeper.

You gasped and gripped the car door handle, nervously checking your surroundings to ensure you weren’t being watched. Minho had parked in the back of the lot so there was no one behind you. Everyone else seemed zoned in on the concert playing like they were supposed to be.

“I asked you a question,” he reminded you.

“Feeling nothing,” you lied.

Minho tongued his cheek in annoyance even though it was clear you were just fucking with him.

“You’re such a brat.”

“You already knew that.”

He sighed. “That’s true.”

You were both quiet for a couple of beats, letting the screams of the crowd fill the silence. Minho’s finger was still halfway inside of you under the blanket and your dress and you had to try very hard not to think about it.

Then, beside you, Minho laughed.

“What?” you mumbled absentmindedly, forcing yourself to keep staring at the screen.

“Watching me dance is making you clench around my finger.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you sunk down in your seat, which coincidentally pushed Minho’s finger deeper inside of you, making you whimper.

“It’s not my fault!” you cried before he could say anything. “Obviously I’m going to be turned on by seeing you move like that!”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” he assured you, voice full of amusement. “I’m glad I can make you feel that way. Quite flattered, actually.”

“You’re such a dick.”

He leaned over to whisper in your ear even though you were sitting right next to each other and no one else could hear your conversation. “And I’ve heard I’ve got a pretty nice one too. What do you say we get out of here?”

You made it through most of the concert, you figured that might as well count as a whole date, right? It was the thought that counted. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either way as Minho’s tongue traced the outline of your cunt.

He was on his knees for you, holding you against the wall of his hotel room with your leg over his shoulder. You moaned softly and pulled at his hair, making him grunt into you.

He paused for a second. You assumed it was to catch his breath but then he started talking.

“I’m sorry we didn’t finish our date,” he murmured against your thigh, kissing it as further apology.

“No you’re not,” you laughed breathily. You knew there was nothing else he would rather be doing right now.

“I am,” he insisted, “I said I wanted to take you out on a real date, not just have sex, and I couldn’t even control myself for a few hours.”

“To be fair, we spent all day together,” you pointed out.

“You know what I meant,” he sighed.

“I know, and I believe you,” you said, ignoring Jisung’s words in the back of your mind. “It’s not like I didn’t want to do this too.” Minho pushed out his bottom lip, half pouting. “Do you want to stop?” you asked.

“No, of course not,” he answered immediately.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to keep going.”

Minho stood up and took your hand, pressing it against the bulge over his pants. “I don’t want to stop.”

You gulped. “Okay.”

He sank down to his knees again and lifted the skirt of your dress, motioning for you to hook your leg over his shoulder like you had earlier. You did, with a little noise of effort. You didn’t have the strength to stand on one foot for very long so you hoped Minho wouldn’t make you stay like that forever.

“Good girl,” he praised, making your knees even weaker than they already were. “Fuck, you’re dripping. I’m sorry, baby.”

You didn’t realize he meant literally until you felt his tongue on the inside of your thigh. You shivered as he traveled higher and higher, collecting your arousal on his taste buds. He reached the apex of your thigh and moaned, sucking hard at the place just below your hip to punctuate the feat.

“There we go. Wouldn’t want to make a mess on the hotel’s nice carpet, would we?” he asked breathlessly.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his excuse. “You can just say you’re addicted to my pussy, it’s okay.”

“Fine. I’m addicted to your pussy.”

His head disappeared beneath your dress for the third time, and he was back at it like he had to prove what he’d admitted to, something you both already knew to be true. You trembled, hands flying to the back of his head to push him further into you, and he mumbled something that sounded encouraging but was unintelligible.

You yelped as he pushed his tongue inside you, legs shaking. He lifted one of his hands and waved it in front of you, offering it for you to hold so that you could stabilize yourself... somewhat.

You took it and squeezed hard, earning another eager sound from Minho. Having his hand helped a little, but not enough to get you to relax enough to where you felt like you could cum without falling over and breaking something.

“I think-” you started, voice shaking, “I think I’m going to fall if you keep going.”

He resurfaced, looking a mix of disheveled and feral.

“Wanna sit on my face?”

“I’d rather sit on something else,” you quipped, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt.

He moved easily, despite him being much stronger than you. He simply wasn’t resisting. You pushed him onto the bed with one hand and climbed on top of him with a smirk. You hadn’t forgotten that he said he would be a good boy for you when you were at the movies earlier and you wondered just how far he was willing to actually take that.

You had dommed plenty of lovers in the past but you hadn’t tested those waters with Minho yet, although it seemed that he was more than willing to adapt to this change of pace. He was already gazing at you longingly with those big brown eyes of his, allowing you to pin him to the bed.

Your theory was all the more confirmed when he started talking.

“I didn’t make you cum yet, though,” Minho whined, suppressing a moan as you grinded against him.

“You’ll make me cum with your dick,” you assured him.

“I wanted to with my mouth!”

“You always want to with your mouth.”

“Yeah, because you taste so good when you cum,” he panted.

“If you want it that bad, you can eat me out after you fuck me.”

“But-”

“What happened to being a good boy?”

He went quiet at that and you were afraid you had misread the situation entirely until he let out a quiet, “sorry.”

“What was that?” you asked.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, a little louder this time. “I’ll be good for you.”

You smiled and began to unbutton his shirt. “That’s what I like to hear.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know series #stray kids series

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teyamsatan · 7 months

Text

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴠ - ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ

pairing: neteyam x avatar!reader (part of the cardigan saga)

➽ a/n: it's neteyam and atan's world, and we're just living in it! hi besties and welcome to day 5, aka the day that almost killed me bc writing daddy!neteyam is actually much harder to me than i thought it could be. but i wanted so much to give this day to them, since they are my forever favourite pair from my forever favourite work of mine.

you don't have to have read cardigan for this to make sense, although it helps. i hope you enjoy, i've seen a lot of you besties reading cardigan recently and it's nice to know you wouldn't have had to wait as long for this prompt as my og readers, who i've promised this to for far too long hahahhaa my bad.

finally, this will continue in another (or two) kinktober prompts, so enjoyyy ;) x

➽ words: 1.7k words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: anal fingering, p in v, pet names, hair pulling.

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

➽ na'vi compendium: atan - light, ma 'itan - son, kalin - sweet to the taste

“Come on, ma ‘itan. You have to let go of him at some point, you know?” Letting go of your son was harder on Neteyam than either of you ever envisioned. Well, not really. In truth, he’s always been a born father - loving, caring and attentive, he has been the unofficial parent of three kids ever since he reached puberty, and yet, it’s never made him bitter or deterred. On the contrary, it seemed that the birth of your son, the sweet Kalin, only made him more enthusiastic to put everything he’s learnt about parenthood to good use with his own family. Still, there were times, like right now, where you wanted to remember what it was like to be alone with your mate, the love of your life, the man who you’ve gone trough hell and back with. Solitude was a scarce resource right now, with a babe barely over a year old, but you were lucky to have a village full of people who were more than ready and willing to help babysit, and some who were more excited about it than others - like Neytiri.

“I’ve wanted to have this little one all to myself for so long, we’re going to have so much fun!” Her little coos were adorable and once more you couldn’t help be forever grateful for the person who’s been a mum to you for years now, who loved you and has done so ever since you were born. Although so different, you couldn’t help see your own mother in her, and you were reminded to pay her and your dad a visit at the Tree of Souls. It’s been a while.

But for now…

“We won’t be too long. Thank you for doing this, sa’nok.”

“We might be… a little long. Isn’t that so, Atan?”

You chuckled at the quiet desperation in his voice, and, with a roll of your eyes, you clicked in the direction of the tent’s entrance, wordlessly willing him out. This was going to be fun…

It was still risky, coming to the places that used to mean so much to you once, that you had to forsake when you moved to the Metkayina, that you got back once more once you returned home, but you couldn’t help yourselves. Not when these places, this place, in particular, has been one where so many memories, all shared between you two, were made, not when it still brings goosebumps on the surface of your skin, the thought of all you’ve lived through here, from learning how to swim and climb to conceiving your little bundle of joy that was safely back home. You never realised how much being a mother would mean to you - although it was always clear how much being a father meant to Neteyam. You’ve loved him all your life, but somehow never more than when taking care of your son, then when he showered you in love and affection, when he acted like the dad and partner you always knew he would be.

“I miss this place so much every time we don’t visit for a few days. It’s like after all these years, and all these memories… it’s part of me. It always will be. And even now, I feel like a teenager, obsessed with you, desperate to look into your eyes, excited beyond belief at every glance or touch you send my way.”

You couldn’t believe how even despite knowing each other since birth, being there for each other every day of your lives, your heart still galloped in your chest any time he spoke, and he still had so much power over you, power to take your breath away with words… and actions.

“Whatever you say… daddy.”

Neteyam turned around almost robotically, alert and frantic as he struggled to make eye contact with you in the least amount of time possible. You chucked at his demeanour, almost predatory, tail perked and unmoving, eyes wide and pupils even more so, swallowing the beautiful yellow of his irises whole.

“What did you just call me?”

You smirked and curved an eyebrow in his direction, enjoying the tingly feel that came with doing so, the goosebumps peppered on your skin after being conditioned to expect him to react to it, to unleash on you demons and urges that only you could swallow, only you could help quench.

“Fuck.” A second later he was by you, and even after a few years in this body, his reflexes still amazed you, still took you by surprise. You gulped at the intensity in his gaze, a gulp that got stuck in your throat as soon as his fingers found your neck, as soon as they wrapped around it and squeezed in just the right way so you felt euphoric, so it felt like the beginning to a night to remember.

“Atan, you have no idea what you started. But I’ll show you. Let daddy show you.”

His sultry words made your legs clench together, a desperate if futile attempt to cease the dew gathering in your beaded loincloth and seeping past the fabric onto the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“Turn around.”

It never took any effort on your part to wholly and relentlessly obey your mate. He loved control and for him, only him, you loved to give it up - you loved it when he manhandled you, his strong, muscular physique perfect for such a task, made to do exactly what he was doing now, spinning you in place and pushing you gently, but forcefully by your shoulder and lower back until you were on the ground, kneeling and waiting.

“I’m gonna need this perfect little body on all fours, Atan.”

The ground felt moist and tender beneath your hands and knees, and you were so aware of every move, every breath, every fleeting touch of his nimble fingers on your body, slowly making his way from your neck, down your spine until he reached your hips, that he gripped with both his large hands, before giving a praising, appreciative murmur at the sight before him.

“So, so beautiful. Look at you, spread open for me, making a mess before I even touched you. Daddy’s little slut.”

You nearly snickered at how quickly he adopted and adapted to the nickname, how natural it was, rolling off his tongue, how somehow, every time he said it, you got impossibly wetter, almost panting with the desire to be filled up with his cock, with his cum. You moaned softly when you heard him spit into his hands, and could only imagine the mouthwatering sight unfolding before you as he pumped himself, before plunging into the depths of the desire that would overcome you both. When he guided his rock-hard erection to the plush of your ass, gliding it effortlessly in between your asscheeks, over and over, all you wanted to do was scream for more. It felt wondrous and dirty, and you wanted it all, wanted him everywhere, all at once, all the time. Like the mindreader he always was, he spoke before you had a chance to voice your unrealistic feverous dreams.

“Let’s start with two fingers and work our way up, how’s that sound?” You appreciated him for his thoughtfulness always, but especially now, always ready and dutiful in making sure you were prepared, that your body was capable of taking him, of taking it the way he ended up wanting to give it to you.

“Words, Atan.”

“Sounds go-good. So good.”

“That’s right.”

He was taunting you now, slapping the tip of his cock on your clit, dragging it against your folds before sliding into you with ease, while plunging two fingers into your puckered hole.

“Fu-uck! Fuck! Argh!”

The feeling was beyond comprehension, beyond your wildest fantasies. It was always this good, always this mind-blowing and yet, you have never gotten used to it, never gotten used to the amalgamation of sensations and how they’d all accumulate to a night of orgasm after orgasm, until you were passed out on his cock, too tired to even mutter a tired I love you.

His hand was soft as it trailed up your body until it reached your braided hair, that he took into his fisted hand. When he tugged on it, as he slammed back into you, you cried out, moaning garbled attempts at his name. Your head pulled backwards as he used your hair to establish a brutal, ruthless pace of both his hips and fingers, and soon enough, you could feel your first orgasm as it approached, thunderous and violent and ready to take over you.

“I can’t wait to be a dad again, I can’t wait to see your swollen belly and know you have made me the happiest man in the world every day of my life so far and will continue to do so 'til the day I die. I can’t wait to hold your hand when you bring our baby girl into the world.”

“But not tonight, Atan. Tonight, I want to ruin you. I need to ruin you. I need to watch my cum drip out of your every perfect little hole. Do you understand?”

A meek nod is all you managed, the sensation too overwhelming to allow for any coherent, cohesive expression, the cried-out iteration of “yes, daddy. Yes, fuck, y-yes!” only audible in your head as you screamed it with all your internalised might.

“Good girl. Come for daddy. I want to hear you, Atan.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, and you came, vision blinded by the high, mind numbed by the way every nerve in your body felt electrified, alight with the pleasure that didn’t seem to want to cease, not even as you squirted on his cock as he continued to pump into you, the overstimulation enough to make tears fall down your cheeks and onto the ground.

You didn’t have time to catch your breath, no time to gather any thoughts before he leaned onto your back, whispering seductively in your ear.

“Ready for round two? You didn’t think I was done with you yet, huh?”

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl @linydoll @the-mourning-moon

(pls complete the form in the beginning of this post to be tagged)

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ur-boyfiend · 8 months

Text

the way you say hello

was thinking abt diff love languages n subtle ways ppl show they care and got myself stuck in dumb clingy headspace so here's this !

skz 's love languages !!

-> skz x gn!reader , i think 2nd person ?

-> fluff !! so much fluff

-> wrote this on my phone at 2am so the formatting is a wee bit ass , sorry abt that

chan !! making sure he's never too busy to spend time with you , or at least send a text message with some kind of cheesy compliment. will text you random things throughout the day with a caption like 'this reminded me of you'. if the two of you are being offered something he lets you pick first.

minho !! when the two of you hang out together you usually each do your own thing , but some part of you is always touching , wether using him as a backrest or just him draping his legs over yours. usually has a darker sense of humor but always makes sure you're comfortable with his jokes.

changbin !! always quick to help you out if you need it (sometimes even if you don't) , orders extra food for you even if you say you're not hungry. occasionally gets hoodies he thinks you'd like in order to let you steal them. always lets you have the last of the foods you like.

hyunjin !! draws you a lot , uses you as reference for pose / feature studies. you're the only one he lets have open access to his sketchbooks (you always ask before looking anyway) , always gets you a coffee when he stops for one , usually a pastry too.

jisung !! random kisses ; forehead , nose , cheek , back of your hand , shoulder , whatever is nearest. likes playing with your hair. will sometimes get you matching accessories , is always wearing at least one. you both help soothe eachother's anxiety , you know his anxious tics and he knows yours.

felix !! knows your favorite desserts and makes them more often than anything else , always has sweets in case you have a bad day. can read your moods well and makes sure to check in if you seem like you're not doing well. the two of you have amassed an impressive plushy collection.

seungmin !! likes to sing to you, will learn songs he knows you like / that you know the words to so you can sing together. has a sharp tongue but knows your boundaries and does his best not to cross them. he's more comfortable being physically affectionate with you than anyone else, and everyone knows that.

jeongin !! likes making aesthetic + fashion pin boards with you , lets you raid his wardrobe for events. likes swapping clothes / styles with you. lots of café and thrift / vintage store dates. you're both able to understand each other even if you're only really making vague noises and hand gestures.

#boyfiend writes #skz #stray kids #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids x y/n #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff

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supernaturalscribe67 · 8 months

Text

Just Like Mama Used to Make

Words: 6,178

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: John x Son!Reader - Dean/Sam x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, John Winchester, Fluff, Mention of Childhood Trauma, Mention of Death, I think that's it??

Summary: Taking inspiration from his father, the reader starts his very own journal. For his first entry, he recalls some of the memories that shaped him into the hunter that he has become.

Request:

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request John/Dean/Sam Winchester reaction to having a brother who looks like their mother and picked up hunting like breathing?

@xweirdo101x

A/N: My very first request! It kind of got away from me, but I really hope that I was able to do your request justice. Hope you like it!~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Hello

Hey!

Dear Diary

SEPTEMBER 2014

To be honest, I have no idea how to start something like this. I was never one for writing, nor have I been one who can easily express my emotions. I guess I got that trait from the Winchester side of my family. Still, I have thought a lot about Dad’s journal lately. The things that he wrote down. It’s not detailed. It’s nowhere near what it was like growing up with him, but it still provides Dean, Sammy, and me with some information and nostalgia from time to time.

So, I figured ‘Why the Hell not’, I might as well write down some things in my own journal. I’m going to die someday anyway, and I want people to read this and be able to see what my life was like. From the good times that I spent with my family to the bad times when I lost my family. Hell, maybe this journal will get me into a history book someday when someone else discovers the Men of Letters Bunker. Who knows. Maybe I’ll be famous after I die, or perhaps it’s just wishful thinking.

This journal has already turned into a clusterfuck. I don’t even know what to write about. I can’t even think of things to write about. Should I say things about my life? Should I just write down random things I think of throughout the day? I don’t know how to do it. Even when I look at Dad’s journal for inspiration, there’s nothing to inspire in it. A lot of it is notes on how to kill monsters and other stuff is just a bunch of personal bullshit he was going through.

Well, we were all going through it.

I guess I’ll start by writing down some of the memories I’ve had. If I don’t like it, then I’ll throw this journal away and start another one. I don’t want future historians to think of me as some scatterbrained moron, despite what Sammy and Dean say at times. If you’re reading this now, I’m actually the smartest Winchester brother. Don’t believe a thing Sam and Dean say. I’m the brains of the operations and our day-to-day lives. I’ve saved them more times than I could count.

Then again, they’ve probably saved me just as much.

Alright, I’m getting side-tracked. I guess I’ll just start writing.

Should I introduce myself first before I do so?

My name is (Y/N) Winchester. I’m a hunter.

This is my story (God, that was terrible)

AUGUST 1991

I remember the first time I mentioned to my father that I wanted to be a hunter, just like him. I was six years old. Dad didn’t take it very kindly. He yelled, a lot. Screamed sometimes. I never truly understood why he would always get so upset whenever I would ask him to teach me how to hunt.

It wasn’t until I was a man that I understood why.

I look just like my mother.

I don’t know how I could have been so blind all those years. I have her hair. I have her face. I have her smile. All of these things have been said by my father before. Not necessarily when he was sober. I was always the one person that reminded my Dad of his wife. Of my mother. I think a part of him wanted to keep me safe, just so he could always look at me and remember what she looked like. Even when I was a child, though, I could see the hurt behind his eyes every once in a while when he would look at me. It made me feel guilty.

Still does.

I know that none of it is my fault, that he made himself hurt.

Still…

For months, I would ask my Dad to teach me about hunting. To teach me about the monsters that crept through the darkness. Each time I asked, he would reject my request and I would get scolded for asking such a stupid question.

So, one night, around the age of seven or eight (one of the two, I can’t remember exactly), I decided that school wasn’t very important. There were occasions when I snuck out of classes to go to the library of whatever town we were in at the time to search the limited amount of lore books that they had. There were times when I got caught by Dean before I was able to sneak out. Other times it was by Sammy. Sometimes, my father would get a call from the school because I had been reported missing.

I was a problem child, as you could tell.

It’s not that I hated school.

It just wasn’t my favorite.

And I wanted to hunt.

So, anyway…from town to town, I would skip class, go to the library, and learn everything that I could learn about hunting if there was anything to learn. Sometimes, I would ask Dean questions. Sometimes he would answer, other times he told me to not worry about it and to mind my own business. It used to hurt whenever Dean would reject any of the questions that I would ask, but I know now that it was so he didn’t get in trouble with Dad. I remember giving him a hard time about it, about not answering me. Dean, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for being a jerk.

Then again, Dean, if you’re reading this, you shouldn’t be reading this and expect some glitter to appear in your body wash.

No one knew about my secret research. No one knew the reason behind my skipping classes. I would constantly make up lies, most of them being about how much I hated moving around and just wanted to rebel against my father. Typical kid stuff.

It wasn’t until August of 1991, when I was ten years old, that I was finally able to put that research to use.

(Y/N) stared down at the paper that rested on a notebook in his lap. His eyes were wide and filled with stress, fingers tangled in his short hair, his back slouched ever so slightly. Dean sat a couple of inches away from him near the end of the bed, his homework in his lap, while Sam leaned against the headboard, a book in his hands that he had gotten from the school library. Dean looked up from his work, noticing the look of despair on his brother’s face before he glanced down at his worksheet. Dean grimaced and let out a hiss.

“Multiplying fractions?” He asked, a hint of sympathy in his tone.

Without looking up, (Y/N) gave a short nod. Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line before he set his pencil down beside him.

“Do you need help?” Dean offered.

(Y/N) lifted his head and looked at his older brother, giving a small, soundless nod. Dean offered a smile as he moved closer to him so that they were sitting next to one another. Dean craned his neck to be able to look at the paper, tilting his head as he studied the equations.

“Which one are you having problems with?” He asked.

“All of them,” (Y/N) answered.

Dean snorted. “Okay, so, it’s easy-”

“Wow, Dean thinks math is easy?” Sam mumbled, a smirk playing on his lips.

Dean lifted his head and glared at Sam. “Shut up, bitch,”

Sam shot a bitch-face towards Dean. “You shut up, jerk,” he retorted.

(Y/N) let out a frustrated grunt. “Will both of you assholes shut up!? I don’t understand this!” His voice was filled with annoyance and desperation.

Dean and Sam shot their brother a look. Sam rolled his eyes as he returned to the book. Dean looked back down at the paper, mumbling an apology under his breath. He then began to help (Y/N) with his homework, walking him through all of the problems that he had. (Y/N) still felt as if Dean was speaking in a foreign language, but he could understand the homework a little easier.

When the paper was halfway finished, the door to the motel room suddenly burst open, causing the three brothers to jump, their eyes wide as they turned and looked at the person who had just entered. John stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. He stomped over to the couch that sat in front of the small television set and plopped down on it. He ran his hands down his face and let a small growl emit from his throat.

Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) shared a glance, almost as if they were communicating telepathically. After a while, Dean and Sam both turned their attention toward their brother, their eyes locked on his. After looking back and forth between the two, (Y/N) let out a soundless sigh as he set his homework beside him. He moved off of the bed and padded across the aged carpet to the couch. Slowly, he walked around the sofa so that he could see his father.

John looked tired. Dark circles were prominent underneath his eyes. One of his legs was propped up on the couch while the other lay bent in front of him. His elbow rested on the arm of the sofa, his cheek placed against his right hand as he stared at the television in front of him. Nothing played. When (Y/N) came into view, John glanced at him out of the corner of his eye for a brief moment. He said nothing.

“Hey, Dad,” (Y/N) greeted. “Um…how were the, uh, interviews with the victims’ families?”

John shook his head. “Not great, kid,” he grumbled.

“No?”

“No.”

As (Y/N) stared at his father, he timidly moved over to the couch. John hesitantly moved his leg as (Y/N) sat down next to him.

“Did you…learn anything?”

“Why aren’t you boys in bed?” John grunted.

“We’re finishing our homework.”

“Then shouldn’t you be working on it?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched. “I just…wanted to see how it went is all…”

“You want to know how it went?” John’s voice got deeper. “You really want to know how it went? Fucking terrible. That’s how it went,” John straightened himself out on the couch before he stood up. He began to pace around the room, his tone of voice getting more and more irritable. “I thought I had a good fucking lead going. All of the victims went to the same fucking bookstore a couple of days before their deaths and got the same book. Seems like a fucking coincidence, right? Then I go to the goddamn bookstore to see what the book was and all it was was something called Aradia or some shit like that. Some type of foreign book bullshit, I don’t fucking know.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as John continued to rant. He looked down and away from his father. He got lost, deep in thought, the words that John was speaking irrelevant to him now. Finally, he turned back to him, kneeling on the couch as he raised his brows.

“Did you say Aradia?” He questioned in the middle of John’s rant.

John stopped pacing around the room as he looked back at (Y/N). Dean and Sam’s attention immediately turned to him, their eyes wide. John’s jaw was clenched, the anger and irritation still emanating from him. “Yeah,” he replied deeply.

“Aradia…” (Y/N) trailed before he shook his head. “That’s not a foreign book, Dad! That’s only the first half of the title. The full title is Aradia or the Gospel of the Witches. It was one of the most influential pieces of literature in the nineteenth century to witches! You’re dealing with a witch!” (Y/N)’s eyes widened as a smile appeared on his face.

John’s expression went from furious to confusion. He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that book?” He questioned.

“I read about it in a library a little bit ago.” (Y/N) answered quickly.

John pressed his tongue into his cheek as he slowly nodded his head. He looked at Sam and Dean, who were still staring with wide eyes at their brother, and then back at (Y/N). He ran a hand down his face stressfully.

“You boys finish your homework,” he mumbled as he walked towards the door. “I have to make a call.”

Without allowing anyone to respond, John left the motel room, closing the door behind him a little gentler than when he entered. (Y/N)’s smile faded as he watched his father leave, his shoulders dropping. The three brothers sat in silence for a minute before they looked at one another.

“Come on,” Dean said as he patted the spot on the bed next to him. “Let’s finish these math problems.”

Even though Dad never told me, I knew I was right. I knew it was a witch that he had dealt with. We didn’t even get to go to school the next day. He had found and killed her before I was able to turn in that math homework. What a waste of time.

I would like to think that Dad was proud of me in that situation, but he never said anything. He never brought it up again as far as I can remember. It was something that he had put in the past, along with all of the other hunts that we had been on. However, even if he wasn’t proud of me back then, I was proud of myself. Proud that I was able to help my Dad even if I wasn’t beside him when he took that bitch down.

God, I hate witches.

MAY 1993

I didn’t touch a gun until I was twelve years old. By that point, I had stopped begging Dad to teach me how to hunt, because it seemed that the only answer I was going to be getting was ‘No’. I figured that I would go to the next best person for the job.

I had to ask Dean.

Dean was very protective of Sammy and me when we were younger. He still is super protective of us, even in our ripe old ages. But because of how protective he could get, he was very hesitant about teaching me how to shoot a gun. However, with Dad talking about Dean going on hunts with him more and more by then, I knew that I would be left alone with Sammy. I used the excuse that I needed to learn how to shoot a gun eventually so that I could protect the two of us when we were by ourselves. I couldn’t be expected to be safe when the only two people who knew how to shoot were away.

That reasoning caught Dean’s attention.

After the fifth or sixth time asking him, Dean had finally agreed. A couple of days passed and, when Dad was a couple of towns away gathering information for a hunt, Dean and I skipped school. Shocking, right? I think Dean used the excuse that I hadn’t been feeling well and he had to take care of me. He even wrote out a fake doctor’s note and everything. Back then, you could get away with a handwritten note. I’m not too sure if you could now.

Once Sammy had been dropped off at school that day, Dean and I walked to a creek a couple of miles away from the school. He had set up a couple of cans on a log, some recycled stuff that he had picked up along the way. He had brought one of Dad’s small handguns with him. When he gave it to me, it felt so surreal. So different.

I never really understood what the big fuss was about, though.

Shooting a gun was easy.

“No, you can’t have your hand that low! You have it that low and the gun is going to come out of your hand when you shoot it,” Dean grumbled.

Dean took (Y/N)’s hand in his and adjusted it so that it fits perfectly onto the grip of the handgun. He then took his other hand and placed it on top of the one that was already on the gun. (Y/N) furrowed his brows as he looked at the way his hands nestled against one another.

“This doesn’t feel right.” He said. “Why can’t I just hold it with one hand like the cops do in the movies?”

“Because you’re twelve, dummy. You’re not in your forties and have years of experience under your belt,” Dean rolled his eyes. “And that is exactly how you should hold it if you don’t want to get hit in the face with your weapon after you fire it.”

(Y/N) listened intently to what his brother was saying, giving him a small nod before he straightened his back up.

“Stop.” Dean held up a hand.

(Y/N) shot Dean a confused look. “What?”

“You’re standing wrong.”

“I’m standing wrong…”

“Yeah, here,” Dean walked over, pressing his hand against the top of (Y/N)’s back ever so slightly, leaning him forward. “If you have your back too straight, then you’re more likely to fall backward. You also,” Dean kicked (Y/N)’s feet apart. “Need to have your feet apart. Keeps you more ground.”

(Y/N) looked down at the ground for a moment, taking in the appearance and feel of his stance. The way his back leaned forward and the way his legs were spread. He nodded.

“Okay, now I shoot?”

“Is your safety off?”

“Safety?”

Dean sighed, moving back over to him. He took the gun from (Y/N)’s grasp and flashed the left side of the gun. “You see this little trigger?” When Dean received a nod from his brother, he continued. “If it’s facing side-to-side, that means the safety is on. That means the gun won’t fire. All you have to do is flick this little switch,” Dean turned the safety off. “Once it’s up and down, then that means it’s ready to fire.” He handed the gun back to (Y/N). “Now, get back into position.”

(Y/N) glanced down at the safety mechanism on the gun for a moment before he nodded. He got back into the position that he was in, spreading his legs apart the same length Dean had and slouching his back forward ever so slightly. Once he received a nod of approval from Dean, (Y/N) lifted his arms, cocking his head to the side. He aimed at the can farthest to the left. He closed his left eye and placed his finger on the trigger.

“Stop!” Dean said more abruptly.

(Y/N) jumped and moved his finger off the trigger, standing up straighter to face Dean. “What!?” He asked exasperatedly.

Dean shook his head. “You can’t have one eye closed.”

“Why not? Snipers do it!”

“Because snipers are far enough away from combat. They need to look through a scope to get a good shot. You, on the other hand, are feet away from whatever monster you’re dealing with. What happens when you’re facing more than one monster? You leave yourself open to being taken out on your left.” Dean’s tone was stern, yet calm. His arms were crossed over his chest.

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded as he grasped an understanding of Dean’s thinking. “Both eyes open?”

“Both eyes open.” Dean backed up a bit. “Back into position.”

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath before resuming his position. Legs spread, back bent, arms up, head tilted, both eyes open. His goal was to hit the used can of peaches that sat on the outside of the log. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anxiousness and anticipation. He was surprised the gun wasn’t shaking in his grasp.

His eyes were on the cartoon peaches that were etched onto the label of the can. More specifically, the pit that sat in the center of the peach. He wanted to hit the pit. He never moved his eyes from the pit as he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising. Finally, as he exhaled, his shoulders dropping, he pulled the trigger.

The can flew into the air and seemed to dramatically and unceremoniously fall into the creek. A small splash echoed in (Y/N)’s ears, accompanied by the ringing of the gunshot.

One thing that (Y/N) noted was that his hands ached, both from the vice grip he had on the gun and the recoil that he hadn’t expected. Sure, Dean had informed him about it before, but he wasn’t sure how it would feel. His hands would definitely bruise.

(Y/N) lowered the gun, looking over at his brother to see that Dean wore a stunned expression on his face. Dean’s mouth hung open as his eyes were glued to the can that lay in the flowing water. (Y/N) watched in silence as Dean walked over to the can. He reached down and picked it up by the opening, wincing from the heat of the bullet hole before he swapped hands. He studied the can. It seemed like too much time had passed before he turned the can so (Y/N) could see.

(Y/N) had gotten it on his first try.

The bullet hole?

Right in the pit.

(Y/N) raised his brows, a mixture of pride and surprise coursing through him. A wide smile appeared on his face. Similarly, a smirk appeared on Dean’s lips. Dean chuckled before he tossed the can into the water.

“Beginner’s luck,” he said, brushing his hands onto his jeans. “Let’s see if you can hit the other ones.”

I shot through the rest of the cans, the same as I had done for that can of peaches. Not to toot my own horn, but I was a natural when it came to a pistol. I don’t mean to sound egotistic about this, but Dean can back up any statement that I’m making about this story.

I could tell that Dean was proud of me that day. He never said he was, but the way he looked at me and the way he treated me afterward told me things that words couldn’t. It’s hard to describe, but it almost felt like he had gained some respect for me that day. It felt good. Even as I am writing about this story, I can’t keep the smile off my face. I always looked up at Dean, so it feels great to think that I had done something to bring a smile to his stupid face.

My hands hurt like hell after it was all said and done. I had gotten a couple of bruises near the thumb on my right hand that I brushed off to my Dad as something that I had picked up when I got into a fight at school. Dean had backed me up when Dad got on my ass about it. Dad told me that I had to get along with the other kids so I didn’t give the wrong impression at the schools I went to. It wasn’t like they would remember me anyway. Of course, I didn’t tell him that. I knew when to bite my tongue.

Dad never found out about the shooting practice. I get a feeling that he had a sneaking suspicion as soon as he took me to practice himself years later, but I never told him about it. I never told him that Dean had been the one to teach me how to stand correctly, or where to find the safety of a gun. I know that he knew it was Dean. A part of me wonders if Dean ever got in trouble for it, or if it was something that Dad even brought up. I would never ask Dean about it now, though.

Some things are best to be left in the past.

NOVEMBER 1999

By the time I turned eighteen, I had already been on several hunts with Dad and Dean. The majority of the time, though, I would stay back and watch Sammy. Even though he was a teenager and had the capability of taking care of himself, Dad expressed that he was still a kid and needed to be looked after. A part of me thought it was bullshit at the time, but another part of me was glad that I was able to spend time with my younger brother.

Now, I know the real reason behind my staying with Sammy was because some of the hunts that Dad and Dean went on were ‘rough’. A little ‘too hard’ for me.

Dad didn’t want to lose the son that reminded him of his wife.

At least, that was what Dean told me, and I believe him.

It was a blessing and a curse, come to think of it. There were times that I stayed behind and Dad called me up, needing me to do some research for the case that they were working on. He had said it would be faster if someone was working on the research while he and Dean were out taking interviews. In the end, it was more efficient. I would gather the necessary information and hand it off to him and they would be back at the motel a lot quicker than if they had been the ones to look up the information.

That was the system that we worked with for a while. After a couple of months, Dad informed me that he didn’t want me to do the research anymore. He wanted Sammy to be the one to do it. I remember him saying that Sammy needed to focus more on the hunting aspect of his life. That school was just a waste of time at that point. He was old enough to get into it.

Sammy hated the idea when I told him. He loved school. He was always such a nerd. Still is. An even bigger nerd if you can believe it. I knew how much school meant to him, and I didn’t want him to be discouraged from doing his schoolwork. He shouldn’t have been forced to do anything that he didn’t want to. So, I decided that I was going to do the research and just tell Dad that he had been the one to do it. Sammy was thankful.

That was until Dad called.

Dad wasn't as stupid as I took him for most of the time. He knew that Sammy hadn’t done any of the research, that I was the one that did it all. By the time he and Dean got back, he gave Sammy a verbal lashing. I tried to defend him, but nothing worked. In the end, Sammy gave in. He would do the research for the next hunt.

Like clockwork, when the next hunt rolled around, with Sammy and I staying back at the motel, Dad had called. He had given Sammy the information that he needed to research and we headed off to the local library. Once we got the necessary books, we took them back to the motel and he began to work.

I could tell that it wasn’t going well.

Sam sat at the small table near the motel room door, two books placed in front of him. His back was slouched as he looked from one book to another, flipping through pages frantically. He had been going at it for several hours by then, evident by the bags that were present underneath his eyes and the redness around his pupils. (Y/N) sat on the couch, watching some old western show. Now and then he would look at his little brother. He could see how tired and stressed he was about the entire situation. (Y/N) had never seen Sam that stressed out before, even when he was studying for a test in one of his AP classes.

Eventually, Sam pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, lowering his head, as if accepting defeat. (Y/N) studied his movements, and, after he saw that he had not moved in a while, he decided the best thing to do was to help him out. He picked up the remote and turned off the television before tossing it aside. He stood from his spot on the couch and walked over to the table. He grabbed the spare chair, pulled it beside Sam, and sat down.

“Having some trouble?” He questioned.

Sam’s shoulders rose and fell as a sigh escaped his lips. He removed his hands from his face and placed them into his lengthy hair. His eyes were cast down towards the table. He stayed in the same position for some time before he looked up at (Y/N).

“No,” he answered, pulling the books towards him. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I said ‘I’m fine’,” Sam repeated through gritted teeth.

(Y/N) studied him with an expressionless face. Sam kept his eyes down, looking from one book to another. (Y/N) was able to see the stress that was emitted from his brother even better with how close he was sitting. He took one look at the books before he shook his head.

“I’m sorry Dad’s making you do this.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t be doing this alone the first time…” he trailed. “But if Dad found out I helped you-”

“You’d get in trouble, and so would I. Yeah, I know.”

(Y/N) pursed his lips. “You know, it took me a little over a year to get comfortable with translating Latin. I sometimes screw up from time to time.”

“Still?”

“Yeah, still,” he chuckled. “That’s why I got something that helps me out now and again.”

With that, (Y/N) stood from his spot on the chair and waltzed over to the bed in the far corner of the room. Beside the bed sat his black duffel bag. He picked it up and placed it on the bed. He began to rummage through it, sorting through clothes and weapons that rested at the bottom. Wedged into the corner of his bag sat a book. He picked it up and brought it over to the table. He took a seat next to Sam once more and placed the book in front of him.

Sam furrowed his brows as he studied the cover. It was a Latin-English translation book. It looked rather similar to the one that he had picked up at the library. The only difference was the color of the cover was a little faded and, along the outside of the book, between all of the pages, were multi-colored Post-it notes. Each Post-it note had different letter combinations on it, as well as notes written on some of them. Sam opened the cover and he raised his brows when he saw that the first page was replaced by a notebook-sized piece of paper, taped to the front page. There were multiple words in English on the left side with their corresponding Latin translation on the right.

“What’s this?” Sam asked.

“It’s a translation book I picked up a couple of years back at a bookstore. I figured since there were going to be a lot of things that needed translating, then I was going to have to make it easier for myself to find the words. The only problem is that most of these translation books are so damn compressed that it’s hard to find certain words without getting blurry vision. So, I took the liberty to mark down all of the times when the letters change in the words. For example, when the words that start with ‘AB’ transfer to words that start with ‘AC’. It always made it easier to find. Plus, I made a page at the beginning about common words that I have found in my research so that it would be easier to translate them.”

As (Y/N) explained, he gestured with his hand toward the book. Sam listened intently, taking in all of the information that he was given, nodding his head. Once (Y/N) was done talking, Sam looked down at the book and then back up at him.

“You did all this?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) chuckled. “Crazy, right?”

Sam snorted. “Yeah. Wish you put that much effort into your homework when you were still in school.”

“Hey,” (Y/N) leaned back in his chair and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “School was fine and all, but this is something I enjoy, and I’m good at it. I’m good at hunting research and you’re good in school.”

“And what’s Dean good at?”

“Being a pain in the ass.”

Sam smiled widely, his dimples more prominent than (Y/N) had seen in a while. After a beat or two of silence, the smile faded as he looked down.

“I wish Dad could see that I’m good at school.”

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth curved downward. It was his turn to look down at the table. He reached over and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder comfortingly. “I know, kiddo,” he mumbled. “But Dean and I both see how much of a nerd you are. Don’t worry.”

A smile returned to Sam’s face, but it wasn’t as happy as the last one. They sat in silence for a little bit before (Y/N) lowered his hand and Sam moved back to the books.

“You got it from here?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yeah, I got it,”

“Great,” (Y/N) said as he stood from his seat and patted Sam on the back. “Call me over if you need anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to call you over when I get to the part about multiplying fractions.”

(Y/N) glared at Sam and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“No, no I’m not.”

Sammy still teases me to this day about not knowing how to multiply fractions. Even though it was decades ago at this point, he still likes to tease me about it. Little shit.

With my help, Sammy was able to get the translations done a lot faster than he expected. I remember seeing the relief on his face when he had finished. Poor kid was so exhausted. Dad was more than pleased when he called and asked about it. Dad never found out that I had helped him out a bit, and neither Sammy nor I were planning on telling him. I just wanted Sammy to have an easier time than I did when I was first learning about research, specifically translations.

In the end, I would have to say that Sammy is better than me when it comes to research. He’s taken the reigns on many different hunts because of how proficient he is with technology. I’m good with old-fashioned ways of research, but Sammy’s the nerd when it comes to computers.

Sammy has told me once or twice, though, that I was the one that helped him the most when it came to his knowledge of research. That, without my help, he wouldn’t have been as good at it as he is now.

I call bullshit. Sammy has always been a smart kid.

He could do anything he put his mind to.

SEPTEMBER 2014

This is all I can write at the moment. Dean called me to the kitchen a couple of minutes ago saying that dinner was ready. I need to wrap this up before he or Sammy comes in here and sees what I’m doing. I know that I would get endlessly teased about keeping a ‘diary’. I need to make sure to hide this in a good enough place where neither of them will find it if they go snooping through my room.

Sam, Dean, if you guys are reading this, I’ll get you back.

But if you’re going to read it, I just want to let you know that I love you guys.

Not that I’m into chick-flick moments or anything.

I’m just glad that I have you guys as my brothers. No one could ask for a better family than you two.

Okay, that was cheesy. I wish I wasn’t writing this in pen so I could erase it.

Dammit.

I’m not too sure how to end this, so I guess I’ll just write again sometime when I can. Perhaps I could do like Dad did in his journal and write about all of the new monsters we have discovered over the years. Or maybe write more memories down. This journal is going to be so cluttered that no one is going to want to read it. There’s no way I’m going to get famous from this.

Dean just called me to the kitchen again.

Until next time.

Happy hunting. (That was stupid, think of something better).

WE LOVE YOU TOO - SAM + DEAN

219 notes · View notes

dandelionprints · 1 year

Text

‘Dear Thomas…’

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N

Summary: When a deal between Tommy Shelby and Oswald Mosley is made, Y/N and Tommy have to come up with a plan of their own to keep her safe whilst on her trip to Scotland. With no outside protection from the blinders allowed, what will the husband and wife do to give each other information in secret?

Warnings: mention of threats of SA/murder/violence, bad language. Reader discretion is advised, only read if you are comfortable with that kind of content.

Word Count: 4300

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this and coming up with the concept! I’m actually quite proud of myself for finally completing this, I really hope you enjoy reading it!

Dear Thomas,

How are you my love? I hope you’re well, I’m missing you dearly although I am delighted that you took Mr. Mosley up on his offer for me to come away to Scotland for a month with him and Lady Diana. It’s such a lovely treat to get to take a break from the fast pace of everyday life back home. It’s so peaceful and quiet with no one around for miles. I need to make sure I thank them at the end of the trip.

We should come here together one day. I think that it would be good for your sanity and wellbeing when things get too stressful. I know you refuse the help but I think it would do you the world of good.

Mr Mosley has been ever so kind and has offered only the best when it comes to the views, food and days out. Everything is perfect. I could see me losing myself here! Caught up in the scenic views and fresh air, how beautiful it is.

How is Arthur doing? I know it’s only been a week since I left but his troubles have been playing on my mind slightly, I just hope he has the patience to see them through.

I know he can do it, especially with the support he has from you and Ada. I do wish you could have joined me on this trip but I know that Arthur needs you more, his habits are getting far too out of hand now. He has the best brothers and sister in the world, he said so himself.

There’s a young stableboy here too, he reminds me a lot of John. Poor John. I’m sorry to bring him up but I like to think that he’s still around, showing himself through other people. I will make sure to have a drink for him tonight.

The stableboy is called George. He has a wicked sense of humour and a laugh that could kill you just from the sheer hilarity of the sound it makes.

Before you start getting worried, he’s eighteen, so way too young for me. Besides, if I’m correct in thinking this, I have a pretty incredible man waiting for me when I get home. (That’s you by the way).

I’m sorry if you find this letter is too long but I miss you and I hope you don’t mind that I’m prattling on, it’s almost like by writing you a letter I’m actually getting to talk to you as if you were sitting right next to me. You with your bottle of whiskey and newspaper, and me with my cup of tea and a book.

I had a memory of you this morning too, remember when we were young and you would deliver my parents the daily newspaper each day because you knew how much my father liked to keep up with what was going on in the world? You always were so sweet. It’s funny what you remember when you’re on your own and have time to think, isn’t it?

Part of me wishes we could go back in time, even just for a day, to chase through the streets of Birmingham barefoot and run riot without a care in the world.

I remember when we made a deal with Arthur to go skinny dipping in the river and see who could last in the freezing temperatures the longest. Just as he’d stripped right down to his underwear, the old lady who lived in the house nearby came out with her walking stick waving in the air which soon had us all scurrying away. We were all so frightened within an inch of our lives that Arthur didn’t even bother to grab the clothes he’d taken off.

As much as I’d love to carry on writing this letter, I know you’re probably busy either looking after Arthur or working so I’ll leave you to it. As for me, I’m the next person to be having their hair done for the charity ball tonight so I’d best be off.

I know it’s only been a week and I really am enjoying my time here, but the next three weeks seem so long to wait to see you. I wish it were only a matter of days.

Please say hello to Polly and Ada for me. I’d love for them to come here too one day if we ever take a trip. Okay, I’d really better start getting ready, you know how long it takes me. I’ve never been good at getting dressed up quickly.

I’ll send you another letter in a couple of days, darling. I hope to see you soon. I love you.

Yours, always, Y/N.

——

Tommy’s eyes lingered on the handwritten paper in his hands long after he’d finished reading it. A hint of sadness sitting in the pit of his stomach, his heart aching at the thought that she’d been holding the very pages that he held now only a matter of hours before.

Tommy hated making her go on a trip with the narcissistic, arrogant prick that was Sir Oswald Mosley for a whole month, though he was given no choice. He had to stay and she had to go, alone.

It was hard convincing her to go, she’d hated the fascist bastard from the moment she set eyes on him. His anti-semetic and racist views were enough to make her feel nauseous, his grimy hands landing on her hips when he insisted they danced the first time they met made her skin crawl.

Tommy had been forced to stay behind, Mosley telling him to give the excuse that he needed to be around for Arthur, which wasn’t entirely a lie, and that there were things he needed to do to help the cause back in London.

“If she doesn’t come along and you don’t stay put then I’ll make sure that all of your family are slaughtered, one by one. Just like little lambs”, Mosley had snickered, knowing that the threat would have hit a nerve.

“And why does my wife have to come along with you? Why can she not stay here with me?” Tommys mind was racing trying to think of any possible reasons before Mosley could muster up a shitty excuse.

“I fear she may become too much of a distraction for you, Mr. Shelby. I need you here in London, getting the biggest names in politics, the socialite world, maybe even Mr. Churchill while you’re at it, to join our cause. I could do it myself of course but I believe you have the right… tactics should I say, to get people on our side. Besides, it’ll be nice to get to know Mrs. Shelby better if we’re to be working alongside each other. I expect we’ll all be spending a lot of time together over the years and I have a feeling that she and Diana will hit it off extremely well. Diana is always looking for new friends.”

There was a glint in Mosley’s eyes that Tommy didn’t like, it was almost unsettling.

“So Mr. Shelby. Do you agree to this or shall I just have someone come and kill your entire family right now?” Mosley took a seat in Tommy’s desk chair, reclining his body back and placing both hands together across his chest.

Tommy thought for a moment, leaning against the wooden panelling on the wall, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it almost on autopilot. He inhaled deeply letting the smoke fill his lungs before slowly releasing it out into the room.

“If I can get the biggest names both in politics and the socialite world, do you agree to keep my wife safe through every endeavour we encounter on this business journey together Mr. Mosley? I’m aware that in business things can always turn sour, especially when politics are involved. I need to know that my wife will always be safe, untouched”, he looked him straight in the eye with every word said, the hue of his blue eyes deepening with the word ‘untouched’.

Of course there were other things he could ask for in return for doing the dirty work, but above all he needed her to be safe. Nothing else mattered if she wasn’t.

As if almost to tease Tommy, Mosley faked a grimace, comically stroking his chin as he pondered on the words just spoken.

“Hmm, I suppose that’s not too much to ask. Rest assured Mr. Shelby, as long as you can get me those names then your wife will be safe throughout our entire journey together”, he finally retorted, standing from the chair and making his way to where Tommy stood, their noses only inches away from one another, ”However, if you do not deliver what you have promised then I can assure you I’ll make sure that she suffers and it’ll be at my own hands. I have no doubt in my mind that I’ll take great pleasure in doing as I please before I finally sink the blade into her chest too”

Tommy felt his chest tighten with the rage that was now enveloping him, his fists began to clench at his sides and he had to take a moment to clear the red mist that was developing over his eyes.

Finally he coughed, clearing his throat, “we have a deal, Mr. Mosley”

“Ah good! Now, tell your wife that she is to be picked up tomorrow morning at eight A.M sharp. A car will arrive at your marital home and she shall be taken to Scotland where she will be greeted ever so delightfully by myself and Diana. We will ensure that she has a wonderful month with us”

A whole month. Just hearing it spoken out loud was enough to make Tommy shiver. The thought of her being practically alone without any of the blinders protection she was used to with a man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. A man who would have his way with her as and when he pleased no matter who she was married to. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

“I shall see you when I return, Mr. Shelby, and I shall telephone you every week for updates. As for your wife, she may send you letters, all of which will be checked by one of my trusted members of staff before being sent to ensure neither one of you are plotting against me, but that is all. No telephone calls, no visitors from your ‘Peaky boys’ as I’ve heard them be referred to, only letters. Do I make myself clear?”

Tommy could only nod in response. Too afraid at what he might do if he did anything else.

“Good. Oh and by the way, you have two weeks to successfully secure at least three people into our organisation. If you take any longer than that, I’m afraid I shall become angry, and who knows what I’ll do in retaliation”, Mosley gave a sly smirk in Tommy’s direction, “good day, Mr. Shelby”.

Tommy watched as the pompous prick headed for the door, his hand quivering above the gun he had hidden in his pocket. He wanted nothing more than to shoot the bastard right there and then on the spot but what good would that do him?

“FUCK!” He shouted as he heard the footsteps of Mosley growing silent in the distance.

——

She’d pleaded with him that night to not make her go, her eyes visibly glassy and an expression on her face that was enough to make his heart sink. He cupped either side of her face with his hands, gently using his thumbs to stroke her cheeks.

“It’ll make a good impression”, he insisted, “please, love. I need you to go and get all the information you can, I need to know what his real plan is. I know he’s going to try and fuck me over at some point so the sooner I know what he’s up to the better”

His hands moved from her face as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She let her head fall on his chest where they stood, soft cries making her chest wrack up and down. Tommy hated that he had to put her through this especially with Mosley's reputation of not keeping his hands to himself, but he had no choice.

“Sh sh love, it’s okay”, he soothed, stroking the back of her head, her hair so soft and the scent of jasmine drifting towards him as he bent his head down to rest on hers.

“But it’s not, Tommy! You know what Mosley’s like, he’s a pig! He’ll try and fuck me the first chance he gets whether I like it or not and you know it! I’ve seen what he does to other women, seen the way he looks at me, it’s disgusting!” She pushed back from him then, her hands falling to her side with a huff of desperation.

He knew she was right. Fuck, he hated that she was right. What he hated even more was that he couldn’t be there to stop it, to keep that creep as far away from her as possible. Back in Birmingham with the protection of the blinders would be more to his liking.

Tommy took a step towards her, closing the gap between them and brought a finger to her chin, lifting it slightly so that his striking blue eyes met hers, the tears still ever present.

“Y/N, I know this situation isn’t ideal in any fucking possible way, I know that, okay? But I really need you to go, if you don’t then he’s going to go on a killing rampage, all of my family will be dead by the end of tomorrow. Polly, Arthur, Ada, Finn… you”, he paused as he felt a lump form in his throat, trying to hold back the tears he knew were willing to flow.

This time it was her turn to bring her hands up to either side of his face, ready to brush away any tears that might fall. She sighed heavily with the weight of the situation weighing on her chest, why the fuck did she have to go on her own?

“Why can’t you come with me? Why have you got to stay here?”

“You mustn’t tell him I’ve told you this, he’ll retaliate if he knows that I have. He’ll tell you that I’m to get people onboard for our cause, which is true. Another reason I was to use for me not coming is that I need to be here for Arthur. What Mosley won’t tell you is that if you don’t go with him to Scotland, on your own, that he’ll kill the whole family. He made sure to mention that he’d do as he pleased with you too if I didn’t get him at least three major politicians or socialites onboard within two weeks, before taking a blade and killing you himself. I have to get those names, Y/N. If I don’t, I’ll lose you and I can’t let that happen.”

A single tear fell from his eyes then, a sight that was rare when it came to Tommy Shelby.

“Okay, Tom. I’ll go”, she paused briefly, the sadness in his eyes was almost too overwhelming, “I’ll go, but if he lays a single finger on me I won’t hold back, he’ll get every single scratch, kick and punch he deserves”

Tommy chuckled then. That’s my girl, he thought. His hands found themselves on top of Y/N’s as he gently removed them from his face and onto his chest.

“I don’t want you to do anything less, you do what you need to do to stay safe. I’m going to give you a pistol to hide in your undergarments, he touches you and you don’t hesitate to blow his fuckin’ brains out, alright?”

She nodded in agreement, the use of a weapon was something that she was more than accustomed to. Tommy had taught her how to fire her first shot at the age of 8. The pistol his father kept in his dresser along with a few pellets. The weight of the cool metal felt right in her hand even back then which she knew it probably shouldn’t. Maybe she was always destined for this life alongside Tommy Shelby?

“Good, there’s also the issue about contact. He said you’re not to telephone me and no visitors are allowed, only letters which will be checked by his members of staff before they’re sent. We’ve got to find a way to get messages across to each other without anyone noticing”, he took a small step back, lowering his hands down to reach into his pocket and find the carton of cigarettes inside.

He took two out, lit one and handed it to Y/N who was clearly deep in thought as she nearly didn’t notice his outstretched hand and it’s contents. She paced towards the window, cigarette now in her mouth and eyebrows furrowed. It was only when she saw the moon outside the window that it hit her.

“Wait! We’re fucking idiots, this should have been the first thought that came into our heads!” She exclaimed, sounding equally excited and frustrated at their lack of being able to remember the obvious.

“What? What should we have thought of?”, Tommy had moved to sit on the edge of the bed, knees slightly spread apart so that his elbows could rest on either one of them.

“Remember how when we were teenagers and I got sent away that summer cos mum and dad found out we’d slept together?”, she began.

Tommy let out a snicker of laughter that made him exhale sharply out of his nose, a grin appearing on his face, “yeah I remember, I don’t think either of our parents were too pleased with us”

She giggled at the memory, if only their parents had seen that it wasn’t just puppy love that brought the two together.

“Well”, she continued, “We both made the agreement to write each other letters every night when the moon came out with hidden messages inside cos we knew they’d check them, didn’t we? So, why don’t we do that this time too?!”

The grin that spread across her face was enough to make his stomach flip, he loved seeing her look so happy and excited, she was beautiful at all times to Tommy Shelby but something about that smile did things to him.

“You know, I think you may be the true brains in the Shelby family. You’re fucking brilliant”, the smile that was forming on his own face made his eyes crinkle slightly in the corners, his cheekbones showing their true definition.

Y/N made her way over to Tommy and gently straddled his lap, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Brains and the beauty you mean?” She joked, taking the cigarette from his fingers and taking a pull, her own cigarette now burnt out.

“Exactly that, Mrs. Shelby”

He took the cigarette back from her, finishing off the last of the tobacco filled contents before stubbing it out in the ashtray next to him.

“There’s one thing I want you to do differently this time though”, he said, a slightly more serious look on his face now.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I want you to start off the letter with, “Dear Thomas”, if you’re in danger. Only use Tommy if it’s just a normal letter telling me about your time there or if there’s information you think I should know about. I need to make sure you’re safe at all times. The letters you send will arrive to me quickly. Mosley’s got his own messenger boy who will make sure any letters get to the recipient within a few hours. If you’re in danger I’ll be able to create a plan and get to you as quickly as possible. Deal?”

Her face now mimicked the serious look on his as she grasped the gravity of the situation that she was about to go into all over again.

A trip to Scotland with a fascist and his mistress probably wouldn’t sound too awful to anyone with the same mindset as them, but both Y/N and Tommy knew just the kind of things that Sir Oswald Mosley was capable of. They couldn’t take the chances of underestimating him.

“Deal”, she said, nodding her head in agreement.

The air felt heavy around them as they both wrapped their arms around each other, Tommys fingers gripping that extra bit tighter to her frame, too afraid to let go.

——

He’d almost forgotten about their plan when he received the letter, the excitement of seeing words written by the love of his life overwhelming the importance of the contents of it. Snapping himself out of his mindless trance upon finishing the letter, that’s when he noticed it.

‘Dear Thomas…’

“Shit”

Panic set in as he raced his eyes across her words once more, not really taking anything in due to the lack of calm that was now engulfing him.

“Fuck, what’s she fucking hidden in here?!” He said aloud to himself, a hand frantically brushing his hair backwards.

Whiskey. He needed whiskey. That was always something that he believed helped to calm the nerves.

Grabbing the bottle from his desk he quickly poured the amber liquid into the glass next to it, spilling some onto the wooden surface as he did so.

He threw it back just as quickly as he’d poured it and took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. A lit cigarette now took the place of the whiskey glass in his hand and he made sure to have a long pull on it before focusing his eyes back onto the pages again.

‘Look for the hidden words, look for the fucking hidden words’

‘Dear Thomas…’

His fingers gently swept across the pages trying to make it easier for his eyes to notice any changes in her writing.

“There!” He shouted out loud to no one but himself.

How could he have been so stupid to not notice it before? She’d done exactly what she’d said she’d do, just like she had all those years ago. The hidden words were ever so slightly slanted, only enough for the person reading it to notice if they knew what they were looking for.

Opening the drawer in his desk he pulled out an old notebook and pen and began writing down each tilted word.

‘I need your help. Mosley is losing his patience, he has said he will kill me if you don’t deliver on your part of the deal within the next three days. Please come quickly.

Yours, always, Y/N’

That fucking traitor. He knew that he should have known better than to take Mosley’s word on giving him two weeks to get the names he wanted. The bastard had only been gone for one week and was already tired of keeping up his end of the bargain.

There was no way in fucking hell he was going to let that monster touch his wife, his innocent fucking wife. He knew in his mind ever since the agreement was made that if Mosley so much as grazed her delicate skin with his sinful hands that he’d make sure to cut the weasels fingers off one by one.

He shot up from his chair and ran toward his office door not wanting to waste another second just sitting there, grabbing his coat and peaked cap along the way.

“Frances! I’m going to Scotland for a few days, tell Ada she needs to look after Arthur on her own, she can bring him here if it’s better suited”

The maid stood stuck to the spot as Tommy rushed past her, barely making eye contact on his way across the tiled flooring.

“Yes Mr. Shelby”

He wasted no time in getting into his car, fumbling with his keys as he tried to get them into the ignition. The engine started up and his foot was down on the accelerator faster than a racehorse on a track, causing the car to go speeding off down the long driveway out of Arrow House. His heart pounding with every metre of ground covered.

The phone in Tommy’s office began to ring, each chime of the bell reverberating around the room. Frances made her way through the already open door that Tommy had failed to close on his way out and over to his desk, taking the phone off the receiver and placing it to her ear.

“Arrow House”, she stated.

Had Tommy only waited a few minutes more, he might’ve been the one to answer and hear the words that would change everything.

“Hello, this is Sir Oswald Mosley. I regret to inform you that I have something unfortunate to tell you about Mr. Shelby’s wife…”

——

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the element of a hidden message within the letter! It was something that I was so excited to include in this fic and the basis of the whole story idea, it was so much fun trying to find ways to include all of the words I needed to!

Please let me know your thoughts via likes, reblogs, comments and/or asks! It really does make a writers day when a reader lets us know what they thought of our work❤️

If you’d like to join my tag list to keep up to date with my work, please click here

Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfic #cillian murphy

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cinnamonest · 1 year

Note

If you’re still open for character interactions prompts, could I ask for Ayato + “Ayato, i’m so sorry to ask for such a shameful thing but… There’s been weird stuff happening around lately and it’s scaring me. Could I please stay with you for a while, until things calm down? I’m so sorry to bother you like this, I hope you’ll forgive me…” ? Thank you a lot <3

Ahhhhh I love this, ty anon

//Yandere themes, gang stalking

----

“…This is the first time you've mentioned this to me.” His eyebrows raised. He set his cup back down on the table. “Care to elaborate?”

You shifted in your place on the floor, tightening your grip on your own cup, holding it firmly against the low table. You shifted your gaze downward, rather than where he sat on the opposite side.

You had been waiting to ask, but you felt rather guilty about doing so. After all, he was the one who had graciously invited you here for tea, and you had accepted as you always did, only this time to make such a burdensome request of him… you swallowed.

“It’s… it’s really dumb, really, I’m probably just being paranoid—”

“I insist.” His voice was firm, but not angered, more of a concern in his tone. “Your face makes it obvious that you’re worried. You wouldn’t be so much so if it was completely unfounded.” After a moment, he added, “if it is just paranoia, you know I would be honest with you and tell you so. Perhaps I can help you understand the situation better?”

You bit your lip, looking around the room. Expensive-looking furniture and décor lined the walls, the floor. Even the table you rested your arms against had an ornate design carved into the sides, a fine polished finish on the top.

Being at the estate always made you feel slightly uncomfortable for that reason, you felt almost nervous being around so many expensive things, you felt out of place… but you’d gotten used to it over time. Still, it reminded you of how important he was, and thus bothering him with what you figured to be trivial issues in your own life (at least compared to the significance of the matters he dealt with on a daily basis) made you feel that much more reluctant to bring it up.

Still, you were truly quite frightened by the matter, so you forced the words out of your mouth anyway.

“I just…” you fidgeted, shifting the position of your calves as you sat on them, “I’ve noticed over the past few months that… I keep feeling like there are people following me around,” you started, stumbling over exactly how to word it. “More than one person, too… I don’t know. I feel like I keep seeing the same faces over and over and notice people walking the same way as me for a long time… the thing is, when I make eye contact with them, they always dart away. I dunno, that especially seemed... strange."

He was quiet for a moment. You couldn’t quite read his expression. He didn’t show any outward emotion in particular, but his eyebrows seemed to furrow slightly, he sat more upright, fingers drumming against the cup. He appeared to be thinking seriously about your words.

“If you’ve noticed it this frequently, it’s likely serious,” he replied, after a moment of quiet. “That sounds perfectly reasonable to be concerned over, in my opinion."

“N-no, I don’t…” You shook your head. “I don’t know. I’m probably being paranoid and convincing myself of it... why would there be people spying on me anyway? It would be one thing if it was one person, but…” You inhaled, and sighed. “I can’t think of any reason multiple people would follow me. I’m not involved in politics like you or anything.”

“…Yes, that’s true.” He leaned back, tilting his gaze to the wall. His eyebrows furrowed further, and he sighed, almost with a frustration to it. With his next words, his voice took on a hint of irritation. “If assigned to watch you without being noticed, it sounds as though the individuals in question are perhaps not performing their job very well.”

There was a quiet that followed. The sentence felt like an odd choice of response, and the tone bizarre for such a thing to say. It thus threw you off, leaving you unable to form a reply. You merely looked at him for a moment at you thought through it. "You think it's like... their job to watch me?"

His gaze flickered over to you, and seeing the expression on your face, he seemed to go rigid, quickly straightening his posture, tilting his head downward and giving one shake of the head back and forth. “Just one possibility… but never mind that.” He looked back up at you, eyes directly meeting yours. “You really should not have waited for me to invite you over to tell me about this.” He leaned back just a bit, releasing his grip from his cup, hands intertwined and resting on the table. “In truth, I’m a bit bothered to know that you would delay telling me this. You should have come to me as soon as you had this suspicion.”

You felt a twinge of guilt and distress at the tone of his voice. He always managed to maintain a certain calm, dignified tone of voice, but you could hear the frustration in it, even if restrained. “O-oh, I’m sorry. I just…” You averted your gaze, looking everywhere but at him. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know you’re busy.”

He shook his head. “I’m never so busy that your safety would not take priority. I would prefer it if you prioritized your safety as well. Don't be careless."

You swallowed, quickly nodding. "Y-yes, you're right... I will." Although the answer seemed obvious now, you reiterated your original question. “So… that’s a yes, then? I can stay here?”

He blinked, eyebrows raising as he realized he’d momentarily forgotten the question itself. “Ah, apologies,” he closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I got caught up in talking about the matter.” He smiled, that pleasant, soft smile of his that always felt so reassuring. “Of course. You don’t need a reason to stay here, you know. You’re always welcome.”

“Thank you! Thank you, I…” You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale of relief. “I… well, thank you for the tea, too, but I should probably go get my things. I didn’t bring anything with me because I just… wasn’t sure if—"

“No need.” His response was immediate. “I will send someone to collect them for you. It’s already nearly sundown. I don’t want you walking out there, given everything you’ve told me.” He paused, and then, in a quieter, lower tone, added, “…besides, I need to have a talk with some of the Shuumatsuban anyhow. I’ll see to it that they take care of that as well.”

You felt guilty for imposing such a burden, but you nodded your head. You knew he would insist upon it if you tried to refuse. “Thank you, Lord Kam…” you trailed off as his expression changed – a raised eyebrow, a soft smile of amusement. You remembered how many times you’d been over the matter now. “Ayato,” you corrected yourself, flashing a sheepish smile. It still felt almost wrong to your tongue, no matter how much he insisted, to be so casual with someone of his social hierarchal standing.

He merely chuckled, seeming to find it endearing. A few moments passed in silence. He stared down at the cup in his hands, grin slowly fading, eyes falling half-lidded. After taking a deep breath, and taking a moment to tuck a tuft of hair behind his ear, he abruptly stood.

“If you’re done, just leave everything on the table. I’ll send someone to clean up. Please, make yourself at home." He smiled at you once more, although this time, it seemed just a touch forced. "I’ll send someone to show you to a guest room in just a moment as well. And be sure have your keys on hand to give to them, they'll need it to get into your residence."

His voice was pleasant, amiable, and yet, there was a faint coldness to it, as if rushing things. You supposed he was truly worried, which was sweet, you thought. You still felt guilty about it all.

He took a few steps towards the door, sliding it open, but paused before exiting. He turned his head back towards you.

“You know, if you want to move here permanently, that is also an option that I would be happy to offer to you. This whole estate is very well-guarded. It’s far safer than the city.”

Your eyes widened. The statement, such a generous offer, caught you off-guard. “Oh, no, I… I could never ask you to—”

“Really. It’s no trouble. It would be quite reassuring for me to know you’re safe.” He waited a moment, but seemed to understand from your bewildered expression that you would not be formulating a response for the moment. He closed his eyes pensively for a moment, before opening them again to look at you once more. “Well, I’ll let you think it over. Someone will be by in just a minute, so, wait here for now.”

You gave an awkward smile. “Oh, ah… alright. Thank you.”

He only nodded, saying nothing more before exiting the room, leaving you alone in the quiet. For some reason, despite the reassurance, you still felt a faint hint of unease in the back of your mind… you concerns must have just bothered you more than you’d realized.

#methinks I will tag these from now on even though theyre kinda short #yandere genshin impact #yandere ayato #rip poor shuumatsuban boutta get chewed out 😔#.ay

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lauraroselam · 3 months

Text

I was supposed to be able to ignore social media all this month, but I keep having stuff to announce. Anyway: 1. Dragonfall got longlisted for the British Fantasy Society Award, which was unexpected but delightful. If you're a member you can vote for the shortlist until Feb 20th. Not really expecting the shortlist since the list is stacked, but still happy to be longlisted. I'm aiming to bring a different approach to gender in epic fantasy with this book, in a genre that is usually fairly traditional in its depiction of gender roles in the name of 'historical accuracy.' Side note, but I've found it...interesting when one of the early, pre-pub reviews I saw (before I stopped looking) complained that the book 'ranted about my gender agenda' when the book has two very short scenes explicitly about gender. Maybe 3 pages in total in a 400+ page book? The first is the last male dragon who has been raised among only women getting a quick primer on how gender works in Loc after he's fallen to the human world and is trying to pretend to be a human himself (he's not very good at it), and the second is the nonbinary character sharing their own experiences of gender. The rest of the time it's just embedded since it's a queernorm world.

I've felt a bit hurt by that, to be quite honest--as a femme presenting AFAB nonbinary person, it reminds me of the occasions where I try to remind people that yes, I am nonbinary, and they'd rather still pretend I'm a woman because I look like one and it's easier for them to not have to think about it. Also no group is a monolith, so even some other NB readers might bounce off the way I want to talk about gender, which is fine. On the flip side, I've received really, really lovely notes from nonbinary and gender non-conforming readers who have felt it's one of the very rare times they've seen themselves represented in fantasy. and that's been really lovely. It's basically why I published the book, even though it was quite personal, and, as the years go on, I find myself increasingly bruised by trying to release art that means something to me in late-stage capitalism. I spent a lot of time last year seriously wondering if I was going to quit publishing once I finished my contracts, I found it so exposing this time around. I cherish every note from a reader that helps me remember my words connected with someone. 2. I thought Dragonfall was only going to be 99p for one day on Amazon UK, but it's still cheap. Grab it if you're in that geographical location if you like. 3. If you're in the US, Barnes & Noble is doing a pre-order sale so you can use PREORDER25 to get 25% off the paperback of Dragonfall, out in June, or you can go to the B&N Emberclaw page and maybe see the cover for it even though it's not yet been officially announced. You didn't hear this from me and when it's officially revealed you have to promise to still act surprised, okay? https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dragonfall-l-r-lam/1141941880?ean=9780756418922

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/emberclaw-l-r-lam/1143890903?ean=9780756418441

Thank you for reading. Ask me about my gay dragon gender agenda.

#dragonfall #epic fantasy #will promotion never stop feeling awkward #no #and yet we persist #in the name of weird queer dragons

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fandom-alley · 1 year

Text

Rose Coloured Lenses | Spencer Reid Fanfic

Summary: Reader cuts her finger while cooking and Spencer bandages her up Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader Warnings: accidental knife cut, lots of mentions of blood/bleeding, kissing, swear words Category: Fluff Word count: 2k a/n: This is my first reader insert short. Got inspired because it's the 2 year anniversary of me cutting my own finger while cooking lol Also available to be read on AO3

Saturday nights were my designated home cooked meal nights. Even if Spencer was out of town on a case with work, I’d invite a friend or two over to the apartment for dinner. And on the rare occasion that no one was free, I would cook an extravagant meal to myself, playing music and dancing around the kitchen while belting out my favourite Taylor Swift song and hoping one of the neighbours don’t start knocking on the walls to get me to shut up.

Even though we've only lived together a short while, Spencer know’s enough to vacate the kitchen on Saturday nights, letting me take up all the space needed for multiple bowls, cutting boards, pots and pans. So when he arrives home from work a few hours early to see I’m on speaker phone with best friend, hair tied back and sleeves rolled up, mixing my famous meatball recipe, he knows not to get in the way.

However, even with the rule of staying out of the kitchen, Spencer can’t help himself but to come in and give me a quick kiss hello, which I don’t mind.

“It already smells amazing.” He say’s while tucking a strand of hair that fell out of my bun back behind my ear.

“It’s really just onions and garlic right now, but thank you.” I smile at him. “Now get lost, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Hi, Spencer. Bye, Spencer.” My best friend, Becky, say’s through the speaker phone, having heard our interaction.

“Good evening, Becky.” He turns to leave but thinks better. Stopping to place a hand on my cheek and pull me in for another kiss. It’s sickeningly sweet as he gently rubs his thumb along my cheekbone. I wish my hands were anywhere on his body instead of stuck inside a bowl of ground beef. There’s no way Spencer would let me get away with touching him before washing my hands.

“Get a room you two!” Becky laughs from the phone. “I can hear you making out.”

“That was definitely not making out. That was just me saying hello to my beautiful girlfriend, whom I missed dearly at work today. And if she wasn’t wrist deep in ground beef and on the phone I would already have her on my bed.” Spencer says with a smirk, leaving me speechless.

“Oh, spicy boy! Where do I find a man like you?” Becky manages to ask through her continued laughter.

“Okay! Spencer, that’s enough of you. I would really like to get my hands out of this bowl, so I’m going to need you to leave so I can finish cooking, please.” I say.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Spencer leans forward for another kiss but I pull my head back as far as my constricted hands will allow.

“Stop trying to distract me! I’ll call you when it’s ready.” I laugh.

Finally, he walks out of the kitchen to grab his work bag. I watch him pull out a new novel and head into the office, where I’m sure he will finish reading it in a few minutes.

“Alright, now that he’s gone. What were we talking about?” I ask Becky for a reminder.

“I believe we were chatting about the rising costs of butter, to be honest. Not the most riveting conversation.” Becky laughs out.

“Oh yeah. Didn’t we star out by talking about Justin’s new girlfriend? How did we end up on butter.” I laugh with her.

As we continue our conversation, I portion and roll out the meat balls. Then I brown them off in a pan before adding the sauce I made prior to Spencer arriving home, turning it down to low so they can simmer. Finally after what feels like hours, I’m able to wash the meat off my hands and gather the ingredients needed for the salad.

“I should let you go, y/n. It’s getting late and I’ve got to give my mom a call as well and make sure she remembers about our lunch plans tomorrow.” Becky explains while I’m at the sink washing lettuce and carrots.

“Of course, it was a great chat. What has it been, two hours? We should get coffee soon. Continue the convo in person.” I offer.

“Yes, definitely. Alright, have a good night, I’ll text you tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do with Spencer after dinner.” Becky says, and even though I can’t see her I just know she’s wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Ha ha. Goodnight, Becky.” With Spencer tucked away in his office and Becky officially off the line, I decide to play some music from my phone to fill the silence. “Nothing like some good ol’ Miley Cyrus.” I mumble to myself as I hit shuffle on her new album.

I make sure it’s not too loud, so as not to disturb whatever Spencer is working on in the next room, and get started on prepping the salad. The lettuce gets chopped and dried, then tossed into the big bamboo salad bowl I convinced Spencer to buy at a market a few weeks back.

“It’s so pretty and it fits the vibe of the apartment so well. If it doesn’t force us to eat more salads at least it’ll look nice on the kitchen table full of fruit.” I had told him. But I don’t think it were my words that convinced him to buy it. I think it was the look I gave him through my eyelashes, silently trying to convey that buying the bowl wasn’t just for the greens, but as a way for him to show that he really was serious about me moving in and making changes to the apartment he’s lived alone in for so long.

With all the lettuce in the bowl, I move on to cutting the carrots into cubes. As I’m working away, Miley’s song Flowers starts playing from my phone. I refrain from singing along, to spare Spencer and the neighbours of the noise, but I can’t help moving my hips to the beat. It’s easy to get carried away dancing to this song, which I do. So much so that I forget I have a sharp knife in my hand.

The inevitable happens. As the song reaches the chorus, I start to hop up and down to the beat and my knife slips off the carrot and into the side of my ring finger.

“Shit!” I drop the knife onto the counter and grab my injured hand with the other, bringing them to my chest as I squeeze my eyes closed. I can feel the wetness as blood pools out of my finger. I breath in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to calm my already racing heartbeat. Knowing I need to assess the wound, I slowly bring my hands away from my chest and peak my eyes open. I barely move my uninjured hand away before I catch sight of the blood.

“Fuck.” I say, shutting my eyes and closing my hands together again. The sight make’s me feel nauseous and I end up crouching to the floor of the kitchen, unable to stand up any longer for fear of passing out. The initial adrenaline starts to ware off as my heart rate returns to normal and I can feel pulsing in the finger that I cut.

After a few more seconds of sitting, I give in and lay fully onto the kitchen floor as I call out for Spencer. The sound of his office door opening is a relief.

“Y/n?” I hear his footsteps come towards the kitchen. “Where are you?”

“Down here.” I groan from the floor behind the kitchen island. I don’t see Spencer come around the corner because my eyes are still squeezed shut, but I hear him. He rushes to me and kneels down to my side.

“What happened? Are you okay?” His hands are on mine, gently trying to pry them apart to see the injury, but I don’t let him.

“I cut my finger.” I cry to him.

“Okay. Did you fall? Can you sit up?” He speaks softly, gently wiping a tear off my cheek that I didn’t know was there.

“I was starting to feel like I was going to throw up so I came down here. I didn’t fall, but I don’t think I can sit up yet.” I explain to him.

“That’s alright. That’s good that you didn’t fall. No head injuries to attend to. Okay give me a second, I’ll be right back I just need to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.” Spencer says and I hear him run off down the hall

When he returns I hear the first aid kit hit the ground beside me and feel him sit down next to my chest, where I’m still clutching my hands together. I gasp and open my eyes when something cold is placed on my forehead.

“Sorry, should have warned you.” Spencer says when I look at him. “It’s just a cold cloth to help sooth you.”

“Thank you.” I breath out.

“Of course.” Spencer’s eyes are soft on me. He caresses my cheek, making me sigh in delight. “Can I take a look?”

“Yeah.” I close my eyes again so I don’t catch sight of it, then open my hands for him. He gently takes them into his own and I feel him inspecting them.

“There’s quite a bit of blood but from what I can see it’s not that big of a cut. Do you think you can make it to the sink so we can wash it off?” He asks gently.

“Um, yeah. I think so.”

Spencer helps me up with an arm behind my back, then holds onto me as we walk over to the sink. He tests the water until it reaches a warm temperature then gently pulls my hands under the stream. I open my eyes to take a peak and all I see is red washing down the drain.

“Oh, gross.” I groan and put my head down onto the counter.

“I didn’t know you were this bad with blood.” Spencer says as he helps me into a chair after rinsing my hands.

“Neither did I. I’ve never cut myself with a knife before. How do you deal at work? I’m sure you’ve seen more blood in one day on the field than I’ll see in my lifetime.”

Now that there’s no blood all over my hands, Spencer brings my injured hand close to his face to inspect the cut. He’s very gentle, but as his fingers grab the one that I cut, I can’t help but to gasp out in pain. It’s so tender.

“Sorry.” He apologizes. “It took a while to get used to. I guess I might not even be that used to it. But it’s part of the job and we try our best to not get attached to the scenes, makes it a little easier to sleep at night.”

“Wow. I don’t know how you do it.” I say.

“It helps that I have you to come home to now.” He says sweetly. “Well, I don’t think you need stitches. Just some good gauze wrap and maybe an Advil if it’s still hurting.” Spencer says. I watch him intently as he wraps the gauze around my finger, securing it with a little piece of medical tape. When he’s finished he brings my hand to his mouth to kiss my fingers.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“I didn’t get to finish dinner. I still need to make the pasta.” I sigh, making a move to stand up but Spencer pushes me back down from the shoulders.

“I’ll finish up dinner, you go sit on the couch.” He says.

“Are you sure? Saturday nights are my home cooked meal night.”

“I’m sure. It’s still going to be home cooked even if it’s me cooking it.” He laughs.

“Thank you. I love you.” I pull him into a hug and he tucks me under his chin, holding me tight.

“I love you, too.” He says with a kiss to my forehead.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #alleys writing #title is not really indicative of the story #i was just listening to miley cyrus as i wrote this #and thought it might fit a little bit lol #haven't totally gotten the hang of finding or making a gif or moodboard that really fits the story #but they hug at the end so this ones what i thought of lol

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8loveletters · 1 year

Text

"just let me love you, okay?"

pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn reader

word count: ~1.5k

genre: fluff, (very little) angst, established relationship

content warnings: mentions of depression, wonwoo is a few years older (not a lot!), reader is implied to be shorter/smaller than wonwoo, like two kisses, not sure about anything else but lmk if i missed something

a/n: this is my first time ever writing anything like this and i did it pretty quickly in my notes app lol so sorry if it's sloppy/bad i just had the idea and wanted to write it out!

you arrive home from work, take your shoes off at the door, and head straight towards your bedroom. when you open the door, you find your boyfriend in a sorrier state than you had left him that morning. wonwoo was still sleeping then, and he at least seemed to get some relief in his dreams. he always looked so peaceful. the same could not be said of his countenance while awake. lately he had been sinking deeper and deeper into a dark depression and some days it felt like all you could do was watch. you always did your best to help and support him, but you were just one person with your own limitations after all.

you feel a confusing mix of emotions as wonwoo turns his attention away from the show he is binge watching on netflix to look at you with a soft smile. you are glad to see a glimpse of light cross his face. you are devastated by how rare and fleeting it is these days.

when his eyes focus back on the tv, yours begin to scan the bedroom. you notice two water bottles on the bedside table, one empty and one about half full. next to them lay a few empty bags of various snacks. you feel relieved to see that he had at least managed to feed and hydrate himself somewhat while you were gone for the day.

"how was your day?" you're slightly taken aback when you hear the words that you were just about to let out come from wonwoo's mouth first. moments like these happened often enough that you'd begun to wonder if he couldn't read your mind, but it still usually startled you nonetheless.

"nothing special. pretty boring. much better now that i get to see you." you see your smile reflected across wonwoo's lips, though you can't help but notice a twinge of sadness in his eyes.

"you sure about that? there's not much to see." his tone is slightly humorous, but you know deep down this is how he really feels. like he's not much, nothing special.

at this, you walk over and plop yourself down on the edge of the bed, slightly blocking his view of the tv. when you see him start to move his head to look around you at his show, you take the remote and pause it. he is forced now to meet your eyes which look back at him as if he is the most wonderful and amazing sight to behold. as he begins to inhale before whining about your rude interruption, you cut him off with your index finger gently pressed against his soft lips.

"get up." his eyebrows furrow and a lost look spreads across his face at your sudden command. before he can ask any questions, you are pulling him out of bed by the hand and leading him to the bathroom.

you reach up to take off his glasses when he stops you, grabbing your small wrist with his large hand. "what's all this about? i was in the middle of something, you know." you can hear the annoyance in his voice and you can't help but find it kind of cute how he sounds like a little kid.

"you've already watched that entire series twice now," you remind him. "i just wanted to do something special for you. i wanted to make you feel as beautiful and precious as you are to me. let me take care of you today."

at this, you feel the grip on your wrist tighten slightly and his face changes from looking annoyed to looking almost angry. "i can take care of myself. i don't need you taking pity on me." you know this is just an involuntary defense mechanism, the way he tries to push you away and do everything on his own instead of asking for or accepting help. however, you still can't help but feel slightly hurt and offended. but right now you're focused more on how he's feeling.

"it's not pity, wonwoo. it's love. i love you. and i want to show you that love. i want to be there for you the way you've always been there for me. just let me love you, okay?"

his hand slowly falls down to his side and you proceed to take his glasses off and set them down on the counter next to the sink. you place your hand on his cheek and take a moment to look into his dark, beautiful eyes which now seem to have softened just a bit. now, more than sadness, you can see love staring back at you.

you move on to draw a bath and help wonwoo out of his old tshirt and worn out sweatpants that you're positive he's been wearing for a few days now. "i'll be right back," you say softly after he has settled into the warm water. you leave to let him sit with his thoughts for a moment, but also to tidy up the bedroom a bit and grab his favorite scented candle off of the dresser.

you enter the bathroom again and light the candle. you notice a slight, reminiscent smile creep across his lips as the scent makes its way to him. you bought him this candle for his birthday after he mentioned in the store that the smell reminded him of his childhood.

"thank you," he says so softly it's almost inaudible. he clears his throat and adjusts his volume, now looking you straight in the eye. "thank you, y/n. and, i love you too." the way he is smiling at you like he hasn't in weeks makes you suppress your urge to respond that he never needs to thank you for loving and caring for him. you just wanted to live in this moment for a bit.

you connect your bluetooth speaker to your phone and turn on his favorite relaxing playlist. as the music begins to fill the echoey bathroom, you proceed to slowly and intently wash his entire body. you see him start to fully relax as you move onto his hair, even letting himself hum along to the sweet melody as you run your fingers through his hair and massage his scalp.

wonwoo was a few years older than you and with his personality had always taken on more of the caregiver role between the two of you. especially when you were going through your roughest times. he was always so strong for you no matter what he was struggling with himself. lately, though, it seems he got to a breaking point. on one hand it tore you apart to see him this way. but on the other you couldn't help but feel some relief that he trusted you enough to show such a vulnerable side of himself. to let himself feel all of his feelings, even if they weren't always very pretty. you feel like you could cry in this moment because you are so happy you can finally repay even a fraction of the love and kindness he has shown you throughout your relationship. you were happy you were at a place in your life in which you could finally be the one caring for him when he most needs it.

after drying his hair and body off, you turn to walk back into the bedroom to grab some fresh clothes. before you can make it to the threshold, wonwoo grabs your arm and pulls you back against his bare chest. his body is so warm and the wonderful smell of his freshly washed skin makes your own cheeks heat up slightly. his big, delicate hands reach down and pull your chin up so your eyes can meet his. he looks down at you with so much love and you swear you can almost see tears forming in his eyes. before you can get a good enough look to be sure, he pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss. he pulls away and smiles, eyes still closed for a moment, while savoring the taste of your lips. after all this time, he was still able to make a swarm of butterflies swell in your stomach.

"come on," you say in a sing-song voice. "let's go to bed." at this point the sun had set and you bring the candle into the bedroom with you, letting its soft glow illuminate the space from your bedside table. you snuggle up together under the warm blankets and when you lay your head on his chest, you are almost immediately lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat.

"y/n?" you respond with a soft hum and look up at him with drowsy eyes. he chuckles and seems to abandon whatever he had intended to say after seeing how worn out you are. "sweet dreams, my love."

the last thing you remember is him leaning over to blow out the candle and placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. you knew tonight wouldn't magically cure everything, but you drifted off into sleep feeling content that you could at least ease some of his pain even if just for one night.

#svt #seventeen #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #fluff #pg

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lythea-creation · 2 months

Text

Caught on Camera - Shams x fem reader (Chapter 4)

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

warnings: none

word count: 833

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

“Hey (f/n)! Do you have any plans for tonight?”, Nadeen asked me on our way to class.

“No, why? You wanna hang out?”, I assumed.

“Kind of. I'm going to Omar's birthday party and you have to come along”, she requested.

“Omar as in Tasneem's boyfriend and Shams' brother Omar?”, I reassured.

“Exactly! He's actually pretty cool and some others from our class are gonna be there. But I'd just feel so much better if you were coming too” she proposed.

“I dunno, Nadeen. It's probably gonna end up in drama. And I don't really get along with Shams”, I considered.

“I thought you two had made up”, she recalled.

“Yeah, kinda. That doesn't mean we like each other all of a sudden”, I pointed out.

“Come on! We never really go out. It could be fun”, she tried persuading me further.

“Fine”, I agreed with a sigh.

“Yes”, she rejoiced. “Want me to pick you up?”

“Definitely. There's no chance I coming there alone. I'm not even invited”, I reminded her.

“Well. I invited you. I bet Omar won't mind”, she supposed.

“Whatever”, I brushed it off. “Wait! What am I gonna wear?”

I groaned.

“I'm sure you're gonna find something”, Nadeen encouraged me.

We had finally arrived in class and moved to our seats.

It did not take long until Miss Abeer started the class.

“Good morning, girls! Today you're going to do a partner project”, she announced.

Suddenly everyone began mumbling, deciding who was going to work together. Nadeen and I sent each other a glance as a sign to work together as well.

“Quiet”, Miss Abeer demanded. “You're not getting to pick your partner this time. Each of you is going to take one piece of paper. Then you need to find the matching number on it. And no switching or you're going to fail immediately.”

Instead of mumbling there were several groans resounding in the classroom now.

Reluctantly I picked a piece of paper and opened it up.

Everyone was already looking for their partner, some showing the number on their paper with their fingers.

It felt like my own fate was challenging me when I realized that I had ended up with Shams. Seriously! Was my life a freaking drama show or what?

“Guess we're stuck together once again”, I declared to her.

“Seems like it”, she shot back, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

For a second I considered talking about the birthday party with her, but decided against it. She would find out soon enough that I was coming as well.

I settled down at Shams desk and read the task.

Despite my initial reluctance I had to admit that I could have gotten way worse partners than Shams. She was working diligently and always asking for my opinion.

Yet we did not manage to finish on time.

“Guess we'll have to meet up then”, she suggested. “Wanna come over to my place this weekend? Can't today though.”

Of course she could not invite me over on her brothers birthday. She just did not know that I knew.

“Sure”, I agreed. “Just text or call me when you have time.”

I wrote my number down and handed it to her.

“I will”, she remarked.

“What is it with you and Shams that you always end up together?”, Nadeen wondered when we were eating lunch.

“I wish I knew”, I mumbled.

“How was working with her?”

“Actually great”, I confessed. “It didn't even feel like work to be honest. More like a fun research project together.”

“So Shams isn't that bad after all?”, Nadeen challenged me.

Her raised brow and the smirk she was wearing were giving me the urge to defend myself. But I could not. There was nothing I could resonate with.

“Yeah, maybe”, I admitted. “I don't even know why I want to hate her so much.”

“Ever considered that you actually like her?”, Nadeen proposed.

“What? How does that even make any sense?”, I shot back.

“Fear of rejection? Shams doesn't come along with a lot of people because she's so different. And she won't change herself to fit in. Maybe you're scared she won't accept you if you committed to it”, she resonated.

“That's ...” I wanted to say ridiculous, but that would be unreasonable. “Actually a likely possibility”, I realized defeated.

“I didn't mean to reflect myself on such a deep level, Nadeen”, I whined, which earned me a laugh from her side.

“Does it change anything though?”, she wondered.

“I dunno”, I stated.

“You could try and talk to her at the party”, Nadeen suggested.

“Thanks for making me even more anxious about coming”, I replied sarcastically.

“You're welcome”, she teased me. “Can't wait to see what you'll do.”

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Next Chapter

Since I'm so grateful to have yall as my readers, I decided to upload this chapter today as well. I hope you all like it.

Tag List: @sunwoniie

#al rawabi school for girls #shams x reader #lgbtqia #drama #romance #fluff #female reader

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writer-freak · 7 months

Text

Comfort after losing a pet

Characters: Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson and Robin Buckley

Warnings: Obviously talk about losing an animal, gn reader, in general just some thoughts about the characters comforting you, haven't proof read it and it's maybe not that organized

A/n: So I recently lost another cat of mine unexpectedly and this was just something that I wrote down for myself but why not post it for you guys as well. Also for Halloween I'm planning to post my Dead by Daylight drafts and maybe write a little Halloween fic but we'll see

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more 🖤

Steve Harrington:

Steve immediately notices that something is off with you he's very perceptive especially when it's about you

He offers a listening ear, but not in a pushy way he knows when to give you space and when to be there for you.

He will bring you ice cream and I mean lots of it.

Steve believes that ice cream can help with almost anything, and he will bring you so much of it.

He shares stories about his own childhood pets and the goofy things they did. It's a way to make you smile and remember the good times.

Steve is surprisingly good at comforting words, even if he doesn't always show it.

He tells you that it's okay to grieve and that you can take as much time as you need.

Even if someone thinks that you are grieving too much over an animal, he will always tell you that your feelings are valid

Nancy Wheeler:

Nancy is incredibly empathetic, and she can sense your sadness from a mile away.

She's been through her fair share of tough times, so she knows that sometimes you just need someone to be there for you.

Nancy suggests taking a walk in the park or a quiet place where you can talk just the two of you

She shares her own experiences with grief, and how it took time to heal, but the past memories will always be something to cherish

In general Nancy's presence is just very calming and she will be next to you no matter if you're crying, or just in need of comfort

Eddie Munson:

Eddie is practical and caring, so he immediately notices your sadness and wants to help.

He makes you a hot drink for comfort and even brings you his favorite blanket, to help you feel cozy and secure.

Eddie knows that talking about your pet can be painful, but says that you could try and tell him about the good memories that you made.

He's a great listener and offers a lot of reassurance

He reminds you that it's normal to feel bad about something like this and he will always tell you that your pet knew how loved it was

He will try anything to just comfort you even if he knows you won't feel better immediately he just wants to try and not let you drown in your grieve

Robin Buckley:

Robin just knows how to make you feel understood no matter the situation

She shows up with a playlist of your favorite songs and suggests that you just hang out together, no pressure to talk.

Robin might bring over some art supplies, knowing that creating something can be therapeutic.

She would suggest maybe making a collage of your pet together just trying to bring something positive

She is just easy to be around and with her, you don't feel like you have to talk if you are not ready for it

She just makes you feel understood and tries to get your mind somewhere outside of your grief

Divider by : animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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satans-helper · 9 months

Text

Reaching for Stardust - Part I

Read Looking for Space here.

Listen to the LFS playlist / RFS playlist (all fic playlists get updated even to this day!!)

Word Count: ~3300

Warnings: none

A/N: Y'all...I'm so happy to be here, immersed in this new series. I began writing this back in April after I, seemingly out of thin air, came up with a foundation that seemed solid enough to even attempt writing a sequel to my beloved LFS. Ever since I finished that fic, I thought that one day, I might return for more. I have a very hard time letting any series go and LFS was truly a momentous project in my life--the fact that so many people have read it and continue to read it brings me so much joy, I can't even tell you.

Having been a fan of GVF for about five years now, I do feel a lot of sentimentality and nostalgia surrounding the band, the music and definitely my own fics, too, particularly all my series. I can still remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I was mapping out certain pieces of them in my mind. I felt a huge rush of nostalgia recently when I revisited my city's planetarium for a star show, which was a huge source of inspiration for LFS, and I realized that it was literally this same month, August, in 2019 that I was just finishing up the first 8 chapters of LFS, not even planning on making it a 30-something part series (LOL!). You'll see, if you read, that some of these feelings find their way into RFS. This isn't because it's a self-insert fic, rather that's inspired by how much this fandom has seen, experienced and grown over the years. I imagine my friends and readers who were back there in the pre-pandemic GVF era can relate to some level of nostalgia. A big theme in RFS is change. I think we all can absolutely relate to that, too. One thing remains the same though--this is a love story, through and through.

This probably seems like major overkill to introduce fan fiction but this is how I feel. Many of my old GVF friends have moved on in some way or another and I've often felt alone the past few years with still being so tethered to this group of beautiful, silly, fascinating boys that spark so much joy and fantasy for all of us. So, as always, thank you so, so much for reading my fics. I really hope you enjoy

P.S. I am cross-posting to wattpad (comments bring me life!)

---

I was getting lost in the pictures of Alaska–deep, shiny blue water, towering, white-capped mountains, a vivid stream of neon green in the Aurora Borealis, lush green forests. Even enormous, graceful whales surfacing, their tails nearly popping out of my screen as I unconsciously leaned in closer, hovering over my desk. I blinked hard as I turned my attention to the next picture that had been emailed over to me–a huge white ship, lined with windows that seemed endless–and huffed, shifting in my squeaky second-hand office chair. I didn’t even have a true desire to go on a cruise or even go to Alaska, but the neverending research into foreign lands nagged at me, reminded me that it felt like a very a long time since I’d been anywhere new. At least not anywhere exciting, really.

I grabbed my phone and opened the gallery to scroll through the last trip Josh and I had been on. It’d been a long weekend about nine months prior, which reminded me that it wasn’t all that long ago at all but it still felt like ages since returning to the normalcy of day to day life. It had been a gorgeous summer excursion where we’d had a comfortable, clean hotel room, a warm pool and three nights out all to ourselves, and I found myself yearning for that freedom and escapism again. Plus the sunshine and heat. Michigan winters persisted, long and brutal, and we hadn’t broken through into any real spring weather until just the past week, which had at least given Sam a nice birthday. Josh and Jakes’ birthday was coming up fast. I thought it’d be nice to do something for them, with all of us–go somewhere for real again, all four of us, run amok in a hotel or airbnb. Or just have a nice dinner together followed by bar-hopping. Whatever the twins wanted, really.

The picture I’d secretly snapped of Josh in our hotel room wandering out of the bathroom completely naked save for a towel twirled around his head came up after a dual selfie of us at the pool and I laughed loudly to myself, throwing my hand to my mouth. I’d nearly forgotten about so many of the little moments. It was so easy to forget when time kept slipping by like the wind, each good moment gone in the blink of an eye and each bad moment suspended in the air until something else came along, and the minutes turned to days and the days turned to weeks and months and before I even knew it, years had gone by and it felt like nothing and everything had changed all at once.

Next I scrolled to a picture of the best breakfast I’d ever had, this amazing brie-stuffed French toast with a warm berry compote and housemade whipped cream, then the picture of Josh’s breakfast, which had been a skillet full of chorizo, bell peppers, eggs and queso that he’d deemed to be “orgasmic.” My stomach clenched in response and I looked at my phone clock, suddenly eager for dinner once again. My hours were almost up with 5 p.m. creeping on me and my mind turned its attention to Josh and I’s relatively new Friday night ritual–binging on Chinese and watching the most obscure, nonsensical horror movie we could find. With that, I swiveled around to stretch my legs in the sun through the window and pulled up the menu on my phone, trading pictures of Alaskan mountains for pictures of fried dumplings and greasy lo mein; a few seconds later, a very appropriate text popped up:

Hey mama, I’m gonna be a little late tonight. Want me to pick up dinner on the way home?

Yes please. What’s your ETA?

8ish? What’s on the menu tonight?

I’m gonna do the orange chicken and an egg roll. Wanna share some crab rangoon?

yes I do. What about dumplings?

obviously!

;) see you soon

I’d need something to hold myself over until Josh got home, though I was glad to have this part of our routine to look forward to. Stability was important and even Josh had come to understand that more and more. I turned my attention back to Alaska, mulling over the images and cycling through words in my head that I could bring to the page and entice people with, as if cruises needed more promotional materials and marketing to bring in profit. They were relatively cheap, all-inclusive and easy for people to handle and reminding myself of this made me bitter all over again–why couldn’t my company make one of their perks a free trip for employees once a year? I didn’t know their exact state of finances but I bet it could be done. They just didn’t want to. And the irony was that they didn’t pay most of their employees enough to take extravagant trips of their own.

Whatever. There were other, more important things I told myself, getting up to stretch and find something from the fridge or snack cupboard. In 32 more minutes I could clock out and put these wild places out of my head for a bit–the weather called for a long walk somewhere.

It was the nicest day we’d had so far, which I fully realized once I was driving and headed out to a familiar, easy forest trail Josh and I often did together on the weekends. But we had a busy weekend coming up, actually. We desperately needed to stock up on groceries–my most recent find of an old packet of peanuts as my last snack was testament to that–and then the boys had a show at Waterstreet. Sunday wouldn’t be as fun–my sister was repainting the entire interior of her new house and had somehow roped Josh and I into helping, in part because we were just that nice, according to Josh anyway, and also because she let each of us pick one color for one room each. Josh had chosen a shade of dusky desert red for the den and I’d chosen something called “spring morning,” a pale lilac, for the powder room, which seemed pretty fitting for the time of year she was making these renovations.

The trail was bustling, which I wasn’t surprised by, and much of my walk was spent nodding and smiling to other people passing by. The break in weather was infectious for all of us in the area–everyone seemed to be in better moods finally, myself included even despite the gripes I had with work and money and everything else. Sometimes it felt like just yesterday that Josh and I were lying on our backs in the deep black night, gazing up at infinite stars and trying to come up with material for that poetry class that had been the catalyst to bring us together. The warm sun above me while I continued down the dirt path also reminded me of days past, of the first hike Josh and I ever had together when we both stripped down to our feelings, laughed, kissed through sweat, and had decided that was it. We’d made a lot of decisions over the years, so many that I felt like I hadn’t even noticed some of them, but I’d never decided to let fog cloud my memories. I hated that it happened regardless. And sometimes I absolutely hated what changes all the decisions had led to. I wanted to go back in time every once in a while to relive those moments and those days and it made my heart ache to know I couldn’t. Josh would assure me that the future would be just as good–and sometimes even better–than what those memories had to offer.

And he was often right. Life was good, and I reminded myself of that as I narrowly avoided tripping over an obtuse rock sticking out of the dirt, it was just more challenging now. There was no school to fall back on–I hadn’t realized how much of a safety net that had really been at the time–and less free time. There were more financial worries. More pressures in life. But if nothing else, I had the best people in my life possible; if nothing else, Josh and I were rock solid. He didn’t let a week go by without reminding me that we were soulmates and I agreed wholeheartedly–no matter what might happen, we’d have each other.

After my walk, I thought about running our necessary errands on my own but ultimately decided that’d be a deviation in routine I didn’t want to make. Josh was the best person to go grocery shopping with, being surprisingly focused and deliberate in his choices. He also was the best at picking out produce, somehow always able to discern which fruit was just the right amount of ripe, and he was good at finding the best deals. He was the coupon cutter, which always made me laugh, and I was the one who followed instinct more than the list we mutually made the day before. I would get caught up in being frivolous, more often than not tossing special treats into the cart that I couldn’t excuse beyond something like, “Come on, you like them too” to which Josh would agree with his cheeky little grin.

And that same grin was on his face later that night when he came home with the bag bursting with Chinese takeout. His voice and the smell of soy sauce and that syrupy orange stuff made me hop up from the couch, excited for all the things, but mostly him.

Josh gave a little groan as he headed into the kitchen, his backpack still over his shoulders while he carried the white plastic bag in his right hand and his keys in his left. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, shuffling and rustling all the way out of my sight. “Stephanie needed extra time–she’s having trouble with the new cameras. And to be fair, they do have a steep learning curve. You remember how much trouble I had with them last week?”

I followed him in, taking the bag out of his hand so he could zip back out and discard his keys and backpack. “Which one is Stephanie again? The one who’s obsessed with ‘film noir?’”

Josh chuckled from beyond the walls before appearing again, pink-cheeked and smiling. “Yeah, that’s her. And that’s another thing–I’m gonna have to review how these cameras even film in black and white because for the life of me I can’t remember right now.”

“Does she have any movie recs?” I asked as I opened a cupboard to get plates. “We gotta figure out what we’re watching tonight.”

“What about Night of the Reaper? You haven’t seen that one yet.”

“Yeah, but you've seen it,” I replied, wagging a pair of chopsticks at him. “That’s like, cheating. We gotta watch something we both haven’t seen.”

“We’ll find something.” Josh moved in close and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek and my heart fluttered–it always did. “What about you? What’d you get up today in my absence?”

“I went to the Hemlock Trail. It was busy,” I told him while we both plated our respective dishes, my stomach growling. “It was nice though. Looks like we’re gonna have good weather for your birthday.”

“That would be ideal but I’m going to be cautiously optimistic. Last year we had snow, remember?”

“Yeah, like a dusting,” I said with a little laugh, purposefully knocking my hip into his. “I’m gonna be blatantly optimistic and say it’ll be good. And we still gotta figure out what you wanna do.”

“We'll figure it out, my love.” Josh led the way to the living room and sank into the couch which we could have probably done with replacing; he set his can of sparkling water on the end table then grabbed the remote. “I’m so excited for these dumplings. I don’t care if it’s cat food.”

“They do kind of taste like cat food, don’t they?” I concurred, settling down on the other side of the couch. I put my plate on the coffee table in front of us and pulled it closer.

“They smell like cat food, too,” Josh said, picking a dumpling up between his pair of chopsticks. “I don’t mind. They’re fucking delicious.”

“I really don’t get how you’ve always known how to use chopsticks,” I remarked, opting for a fork instead to pierce my own dumpling while Josh fished through the cushions for the remote as he chewed. “It’s not fair.”

“I’ve tried to teach you, doll.”

“And I haven’t learned, so either you’re a shit teacher or I’m a shit student.”

Josh laughed and swatted my arm with the remote. “Hush! I’ll have you know that my students love me.”

I nodded, chewing. “So I’m a shitty student after all.”

“You are not. There’s a learning curve to chopsticks too, ya know.” Josh took another bite of his dumpling then leaned forward, peering at the TV. “Okay, so–what’re we watching?”

I followed his scrolling through our shared list of choices while I tackled the orange chicken. “What about that one?” I asked when he paused on the title Devil’s Ground. “It looks pretty obscure. 1983, a director I’ve never heard of, looks grainy and weird.”

“It’s been on our list forever,” Josh said, clicking the play button. “Let’s give it a shot.”

The movie really did turn out to be obscure–the protagonist was a teenage girl who finds an old well in the middle of the woods and climbs down into it, for some reason believing that her missing brother would be down there. Josh and I chided about the already well-known fairytale parallels, except in this movie the girl encountered creatures in the world beyond the well even weirder than those in Alice in Wonderland or Labyrinth, and ended up having to get betrothed to some menacing demon, played by a giant puppet, to save her brother. Then she and her brother kill the demon and find their way out of the strange world and back in their world.

Josh laughed loudly as the movie came to an end. “That was ridiculous. One of the best ones we’ve seen so far.”

“Those puppets were something else,” I commented, watching the credits roll and hoping everyone on that production went on to do better things. “The little blue one with teeth was my favorite.”

“Why didn’t they just get a real actor for the demon?” Josh asked, shaking his head. “Good god. It was a travesty but also kind of brilliant. I could show this to my students to demonstrate the use of close-up shots.”

“The close-up on the puppet demon when he was being slaughtered seemed unnecessary.”

Josh got up and stretched, gathering all of our plates and silverware and his chopsticks. “It really was. You want me to do the dishes?”

I turned the TV off and followed him, carrying in our empty drinks. “I thought another part of our Friday night tradition was saving the dishes for the next day and we can argue about it then.”

“No argument. You get to do them since I got the food,” Josh said as he set the plates into the sink with a clatter, then pinched my side. “Deal?”

I giggled, shrinking away from his ticklish touch. “Deal.”

“Anyway, my darling,” Josh began to say, twirling away from me and to another kitchen cabinet. I watched, amused at how he always struggled to reach far enough up to get the wine glasses. “There’s a full moon tonight. Let’s go see it.”

“What? There is?” I asked, trying to peek at wherever it may have been through the kitchen window, our third-story apartment giving us a halfway decent view of the sky most of the time. That was one of the few perks of this place–we’d moved in last year, sizing up so I could have my “office” and enough space in general for both of us to not be completely on top of one another–though Josh never complained about that–but the building was old and lacking a number of things, namely outdoor space. Our little balcony was all we had anymore.

Josh trailed out, wine glasses tinkling in one hand while he held the mostly full bottle of red wine in the other, and I followed again, feeling a sense of eagerness for the night sky which I hadn’t felt in, well, about a month. Our life together was full of tradition, I had come to realize in time, and a viewing party of the full moon whenever possible was certainly one of them. I’d just been too wrapped up in Alaskan cruises to remember this one on the calendar.

The night air was chilly–a tingle ran down my spine and Josh noticed this as I sat down next to him on the cushioned bench we’d garbage-picked right after moving in. He skillfully and quickly poured each of us wine, set the bottle down and wrapped his free arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close.

“It’s gorgeous,” he declared, his voice as rich as ever but a softness brushed through those words. I always loved whenever he got so starstruck over something that he couldn’t help but be concise.

“It really is,” I agreed, pulling my gaze away from Josh’s equally–if not more so–gorgeous face to take in the huge globe of bright cool white above us. “I can’t believe I forgot about it. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know what planet I’m on.”

Josh laughed, light and affectionate. “You’re on planet earth. It’s disappointing sometimes, I know, but if we weren’t here, I’m not sure we’d be able to see the moon and the stars like this.”

I took a drink, already lulled by Josh’s voice and his warm, strong arm around me. He’d always been strong, considerable muscle secure beneath silky tan skin, but he’d gotten stronger still; the muscles had become even more obvious and I sometimes poked fun, and a little bit of envy, at him for being a “hard-body” because, well, he was. I’d learned to memorize the curves and lines of his body throughout the changes, tracing every plain and valley with my fingers whenever I had the chance.“Probably not, no. We’re really lucky after all, aren’t we?” I said, reaching up to stroke his hand over my shoulder.

“I think we are. Especially if we can see the stars wherever we go.”

“Speaking of–earlier I was thinking about how it’s been a while since we took a trip anywhere.”

“Yeah? Well, where would you want to go?” Josh asked, bringing his wine to his lips. “Not Alaska, I assume.”

“No, not Alaska. But I don’t know, Josh, I feel like we should go somewhere soon.”

Josh took another drink, looking ahead through the darkness that was interrupted by various porch lights from the other apartments rather than up at the jeweled sky. I’d expected enthusiasm–he’d have more free time soon with the semester coming to an end and I still had a lot of vacation days left, making the whole thing easy in theory–but he was uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” I prodded, tugging at his wrist.

“No, nothing,” he assured me, coming alive again with his body squirming beside me, his hand grabbing mine in reciprocity. “I was just thinking about it. We should both think about it some more.”

I returned my attention back to the moon and the stars and a memory overcame me so viscerally it actually hurt–the abandoned barn, the vast field, the endless sky hanging overhead the two of us. “Alright, let’s think about it,” I concluded, wishing that the place we could travel to was back in time.

Josh sighed and curled around me. “I feel like a dumpling,” he said, lifting a hand to pat his stomach, and I laughed right into the night along with him.

---

Tagging no one because my list is so outdated that none of those people are even in the fandom or use tumblr anymore LOL please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in this series!

#josh kiszka #josh gvf #greta van fleet #gvf #gvf fic #josh fic #josh kiszka x reader #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kszka #sam gvf #danny gvf #jake gvf #lfs #rfs #I'M BACK!!!!

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tired-teacher-blog · 2 years

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hii how are you teach? needing some aizawa comfort of reader being harassed by some guys on the street. like he comes out maybe while he’s finishing up patrolling at night. recently had a few bad encounters and it makes me ick.

Baby I am so sorry you had to deal with such an awful thing, it must've been hard for you 😢 I hope you're feeling better now. I'm also really sorry it took me too long but I hope you like it ❤️

Title : Falling star

Characters : Aizawa/ Gender neutral reader

Genre : Angst/ Fluff/ One shot/ Happy ending

Trigger warning : Attempted rape/ injuries

Please do not read if you're a minor

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

_ "So, what do you want for dinner?" you were twinkling, practically skipping as you talked to your man on the phone, "should I buy something on the way home or do you prefer a homemade meal?"

_ "Anything is fine beautiful," he responded softly, sighing as he did, "I missed you."

You giggled happily, almost forgetting that you were outside in public, "what are you saying Shōta? We left the apartment together this morning so how can you miss me so soon?"

Truthfully, you were only teasing, because you too had missed him a lot.

His hearty chuckle came from the other end of the line, "I'm sorry those night shifts are getting more and more frequent lately." he sounded remorseful.

_ "I'm sorry too honey, but that's okay, you're doing this so people like myself can feel safer on the streets." you held your phone closer to your ear, wishing you were holding him instead.

You meant every word you uttered though, knowing that he was out there preventing crime and watching over the city gave you serenity and peace of mind, however..

Lost in your own trance, you failed to notice the wicked stares that followed you from behind, and it didn't help that less and less people were passing by. But even then, you felt secure having your beloved's voice accompanying you, it was all you needed.

_ " Oh Shōta! Look up! Have you seen that falling star?!" you beamed pointing to the moving light.

_ "Yes baby, I have," his words were laced with a smile that you could undeniably feel, "beautiful."

You took a deep breath, relishing the cool breeze that tickled your skin. And for a moment it was peaceful and quiet, until a harsh pull on your arm shattered that perfect image.

You yelped, losing your balance and smashing your phone to the ground. It all happened too quickly that when you finally regained your composure you were in a nearby dark alley, restrained and pushed against the wall.

_ "Who are you? And what do you want from me?" if Shōta had taught you anything, it was to remain calm and to keep your self-control when faced with danger.

"Buy yourself time and examine your surroundings, don't give your attacker the satisfaction of controlling your reactions."

You never thought the day would come when his words would start playing inside your brain as you possibly faced your demise.

You were terror stricken, barely able to push your tears back, but you were never taught to give in so easily..

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.

Your voice sounded heavenly reaching him over the device he held dearly as he talked to you.

Your little conversations about how your day had been, what to have for dinner, or even the tiniest strangest things encountering you on your way home were what made the dragging tedious night shifts bearable.

He looked up smiling, picturing your beautiful face among the stars until a shooting one caught his attention.

He opened his mouth to mention it, but as usual, you were quicker.

_ " Oh Shōta! Look up! Have you seen that falling star?!" you were precious, and it never ceases to amaze him just how passionate you are about the smallest things.

He's not one to believe in superstitions but if there was such a thing then he wouldn't mind making a wish on that breaking star.

"never leave my side y/n"

Was what he silently longed for. However, and only moments later came a reminder that life wasn't a fairytale..

_ "Y/n! What's happening?! Talk to me!" he heard it all.. your horrified scream, their devilish laughter, the ambiguous ruckus, and the loud crush before your phone went dead.

He feared the worst as he pictured nightmarish scenarios of what might be happening to the love of his life, but losing you was never going to be an option.

He instantly regained his composure and dashed to find you, thanking the heavens that you only ever take one and the same way home every day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.

_ "What's a pretty thing like yourself doing alone at this hour?" he was too close, his disgusting breath fanning over your neck.

_ "Oh I guess it's just our good luck man!" his friend dared to slide his rough fingers under your shirt.

_ "No stop! Don't touch me! Stay away!" everything you were taught by Shōta went down the drain in a split second.

You thought you could handle it, you thought you could defend yourself, you thought you could make him proud, but you were shackled by your overwhelming fright.

_ "Would you look at that! I'm suddenly so turned on," a third one that you hadn't seen before, appeared out of nowhere, "it's always fun to see their once rebellious glare turn into a pleading peep."

_ "I know right?" the asshole who was boldly touching you, ripped off your shirt all of a sudden leaving you exposed to the three of them.

_ "No don't! Please don't!" your tears started falling and you no longer cared about forcing them back, "let go of me! Help! Someone! Anyon.." a big rough hand slammed itself over your mouth, knocking your head on the wall behind you.

Something started trickling down your nape.. blood? Possibly, you were too lightheaded to comprehend.

_ "Shut the fuck up, someone will hear you." those were their last words to you..

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.

Shōta ran like a mad man, knocking a few innocent bystanders on the way.

Every second that passed meant the difference between your life and death, and he couldn't even begin to imagine what that would mean for him.

"I'll get to you.. I promise I will."

He repeated in his head like a mantra, scanning the area for anything suspicious until he heard something. He wasn't sure what it was or if it meant anything until a clearer sound followed suit.

"let go of me! Help! Someone! Anyon.." it was yours, undoubtedly so, you were closer than he thought. He flew following your voice into an abandoned dark alley that seemed endless, bottomless.. until he finally reached you..

The sight he was welcomed with made the blood boil in his veins. Filthy lowlife villains surrounded you, laughing, mocking, grabbing. But his attention went straight to you, your shivering squirming body, your flowing tears and terrified expressions.

_ "I'll kill you for that." he growled before kicking them to the ground and pummeling them mercilessly.

You could hear them begging for mercy from where you were crouching, but Shōta kept beating them up with no signs of stopping, it was as if he was possessed.

You wanted to call his name, to tell him that you were alright, that he had gotten to you on time, but deep down you wanted your assaulters to learn their lesson, not only for what they wanted to do to you but also for the sake of their previous victims.

The ruckus had finally stopped.. bodies were piled up on top of each other, bleeding, broken, whimpering, and Shōta was instantly by your side, replacing your lost shirt with his own and inspecting you for injuries.

_ "How are you feeling sweetheart? Are you hurt anywhere?" he was tense, jaws clenched and brows furrowed. He looked guilt ridden.

_ "I'm okay, I promise," you cupped his cheeks as you smoothed out his skin, "you came for me, you saved me."

One of his hands cradled your head and he gasped feeling the warm liquid against his fingers.

_ "They hit you?!" the animalistic glare returned to his features and you had to reassure him.

_ "It's no big deal Shōta, it doesn't hurt that much I swear, it's probably just a scratch."

He pulled you to his chest, kissing everywhere his lips could reach, "this is never going to happen again I promise! I will keep you safe."

You smiled knowing that he meant every single word, "Shōta, please take me home." you just wanted to be out of that dump.

He nodded grabbing his phone and calling the police and an ambulance for you..

An hour later, the criminals were shipped to the station and you were home after the medics confirmed your well-being.

_ "It must've been hard baby, I'm really sorry," he kissed your shoulder before lathering your skin with your favorite body wash and massaging it softly, "but I'm proud of you, you bought me enough time to reach you at the right moment."

Your cheeks heated up because you weren't exactly as proud as he was. You were panicked and did little to defend yourself.

_ "I couldn't do anything.. I was so scared.. if you got to me a few minutes later then who knows.."

He pulled you close, your back flush against his chest, the sudden movement causing you to flinch and the water level to rise in the bathtub.

_ "It's fine to be scared. Hell, I was terrified myself.. but you were brave because you did your best against them despite your fear, that's why you're brave, and that's why I'm proud." he trailed soft feathery kisses along the side of your neck and you traced the strong arms that wrapped themselves around your frame.

_ "You really think so? You really think I did well?" his words mean the world to you, and you wanted to hear more.

_ "Of course I do, you were the one calming my nerves earlier remember?"

You giggled squeezing his arms.

_ "See? You're able to laugh, that's how strong you are." he gently cupped your jaw, turning your head to the side and kissing your smiling lips, "my brave undefeated y/n" he mumbled softly against you and you giggled some more, moving around to mount him and making a mess out of the bathroom floor that was all kinds of drenched, but neither of you cared.

_ "I love you Shōta"

_ "I love you more," he kissed you again before averting his gaze, "you know, I kinda did something silly tonight," he cleared his throat, "I made a wish on that falling star, for you to stay by my side." he wanted you to laugh some more, to mock him, to hopefully forget -even for a moment- what happened earlier, he wouldn't have revealed such an embarrassing secret otherwise.

But your reaction was the last thing he expected.

_ "Really?! I did too! I made the same wish and I was too embarrassed to tell you!"

You two were quiet for a moment after that, blinking a few times before bursting out laughing.

_ "We're both weird I guess." you struggled between uncontrollable chuckles and he could finally heave a sigh of relief, caressing your cheeks and marveling at how alluring you were.

_ "My beautiful brave y/n."

@mommymi1kers

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genork-the-fandork · 3 months

Text

Survived

Word Count: 1,564 Prompt: Post-Game/Future Featured Characters: Takuma Momozuka, as well as Minoru Hinata, Aoi Shibuya, Kaito Shinonome, Miu Shinonome, Shuuji Kayama, Professor, Ryo Tominaga, & Saki Kimishima A/N: This was always going to be my longest drabble, because I have a soft spot for post-canon things where one character spends some time with all of the others in separate situations. I haven't played through the truthful ending yet, so I frankly have probably made some things up here. And ended it real sappy. Because that's my favorite thing to do. In any case, I really enjoyed writing this and my other drabbles this week, and thank you to everyone who read, liked, and wrote some really kind tags! It means a whole heckuva lot! <3 @surviveweek

"Hey, Takuma!"

Takuma looked up from his phone and smiled at the sight of Minoru and Aoi approaching his table. "Hey, Minoru, Aoi. How are you both?"

"Good, good. Falcomon is practically part of the family now," Minoru said, grinning as he sat across from Takuma. Aoi sat beside him, gently balancing the drink in her hand with the muffin in the other. "It's like having a pet, except he can talk back!"

"Mom and Dad love Labramon, she's so helpful," Aoi chimed in, a truly happy look on her face. "She insists on walking me to school every day even though I can go myself."

"Sounds like Labramon," Takuma said. Even though he hadn't seen them in a while, he could vividly imagine Falcomon and Labramon settling in with their partners. It had taken his own mother a bit to get used to Agumon, but the little dinosaur was so sweet and adorable it was hard not to love him. "Have either of you talked to the others?"

"Saki's doing much better now." Aoi took out her phone and showed Takuma and Minoru a picture of Saki smiling in a hospital bed with Floramon right beside her. "She missed a little bit of school, but I take the train to her house every now and then to help her with her schoolwork."

"Ryo doesn't text back much, but it seems like he's doing great. I think?" Minoru chuckled. "I think he just doesn't want to admit he misses us."

"Don't tease him, Minoru," Aoi scolded.

"I hope we can all meet up again soon. It's kind of weird, being all separated like this." Takuma stared down at the drink clutched in his hand. "I know it was only a few hours here, but it felt like weeks there. It was hard adjusting without everyone."

Minoru nodded. "I know what you mean." He got a wistful look on his face. "There's something about sticking together and surviving all that, you know?"

"We'll see each other again." Aoi smiled widely. "There's no way we won't."

"You're right." Takuma checked the time on his phone and grinned over at his friends. "Which reminds me, I need to call Kaito tonight."

That was their cue to stand up. As they gathered their things, Aoi placed her hand on Takuma's shoulder. "Tell Kaito and Miu we said hello?"

Takuma smiled. "Of course."

~~~

"How are Miu and Syakomon?" Takuma asked as soon as Kaito answered the phone and they exchanged their usual greetings.

Kaito smirked and moved his phone camera so Takuma could see Miu playing with Syakomon. He couldn't quite tell what they were doing, but it involved lifting Syakomon in the air, almost like a baby. The sight made him smile and laugh. When Miu noticed Kaito was filming her, she stuck out her tongue, but she waved her sweatshirt sleeve and called, "Hi, Takuma!" Had Syakomon been able to wave, he was sure she would wave, too.

"So that's how she is. How about you, Takuma?" Kaito sat down at a table and propped his phone up somewhere so he could rest his elbows on the table. It was almost like they were right in front of each other rather than kilometers upon kilometers away.

Takuma shrugged and angled his camera so Kaito could see Agumon poking at some of his old toys, a fascinated look in his big, green eyes. Kaito looked just as amused by Agumon's antics as Takuma had been by Miu's. "Agumon's settling right in. I actually just saw Minoru and Aoi today—they say hello."

"Glad they're doing well. It's so weird not having any of you around here anymore. I almost tricked myself into believing you all lived nearby. You know, after all that time together."

"I get what you mean. It's hard actually spending time with the others now that we're back to our lives. Is it weird I kinda miss the other world?"

"Not really. We got used to it after a while." The grin hadn't left Kaito's face, so Takuma knew they were on the same page.

Even though they were on a video call, they enjoyed a minute of companionable silence. Takuma was finding it easier and easier, with the companions he'd hate on their unbelievable adventure, to sit in silence with them and not have to fill it with words. He doubted any of his other friends at school would understand such things. But with Kaito especially, it was easy. Maybe nearly dying together was the secret to friendship.

And, as weird as it was, Takuma preferred these sorts of friendships.

~~~

"Takuma?"

Turning around, Takuma spotted Shuuji and the Professor walking down the street toward him. "Oh! Shuuji! Professor! How are you?"

"Well, thank you." Shuuji peered down and behind him, smiling encouragingly at Lopmon as he toddled up to them. "Sorry, Lopmon. Here." The older boy crouched down and picked up Lopmon, setting the bunny-like creature on his shoulder. Had the Kemonogami been able to blush, Takuma was sure Lopmon would be. It seemed they were getting along even better now. "Anyway, Takuma—how are you? And Agumon?"

"Good, good. He's getting a hang of our world slowly but surely. Professor? How are you?"

The professor approached the two boys at a leisurely pace, looking more at ease than he had ever been with either of them. Takuma smiled up at him, and the Professor returned the smile. "I'm well, Takuma. It's been interesting, raising my sister, but, well." He chuckled. "We're making do."

"Please tell her I said hello." Takuma couldn't help but take a mental picture of the scene before him. Lopmon and Shuuji, happy. The Professor, happy now that he had his sister back in his life. It was almost too good to be true, but after the hellish reality in the Kemonogami world, it was real.

"We have to run, but it was great seeing you, Takuma!"

"You too! Please take care, both of you!" Takuma waved as they walked off, glad to see that they were doing well. He'd have to make sure to email them both later. But first, he had to get home with the groceries!

~~~

"Thanks for coming all this way, Ryo." Takuma took a sip of his soda and smiled over at his friend, who despite all evidence to the contrary, was trying to look like he wasn't

"Yeah, sure." Ryo glanced over at Saki, who was eyeing her food with a level of excitement Takuma was used to seeing from Agumon. "Someone had to keep an eye on her."

"I think you mean I'm here to keep an eye on you, Ryo," Saki retorted smoothly, not even missing a beat.

Takuma was reminded of the day they were transported to the other world, when Ryo and Saki had been walking together. Even after all they'd been through together, it was strange to see them together. Still, Takuma knew they were both in good hands when they were together. "I'm glad to see you two are doing well. Aoi told me your surgery went well, Saki?"

Saki ignored the concerned look Ryo subtly shot her and smiled. "It did! I felt much braver about going through it knowing Floramon was waiting for me. Hopefully this will be the last one for a while." Her smile wavered a tiny bit. "I really hope it is." She brightened and rested her chin on her hands, grinning over at Ryo. "And? How are you and Kunemon?"

"Okay. I have to translate for him sometimes, but it's working out pretty well." Ryo slipped his phone onto the table and turned it on, revealing a lockscreen that was of Kunemon sleeping on what appeared to be a pillow. Saki made an "aww!" sound and Takuma smiled. Like with Lopmon and Shuuji, it was nice to see Kunemon and Ryo settling into a rhythm.

"I'm glad to see you two are doing well. Hard to believe it's been a few months since it all happened, huh?" Takuma said, letting out a wistful sigh. "I've only been able to see a couple of you at a time. We'll have to spend some time all together soon."

"That sounds like fun!" Saki clapped, her eyes shining. "We should do it!"

"Been a while since I've had to yell at Minoru. Let's do it." Ryo was smirking, but Takuma could tell he was also missing the others.

Takuma sipped his soda again and nodded to his two friends. "Soon. Let's get together again soon."

~~~

As promised, they all got together in the only place that made sense: the old Kemonogami shrine. Takuma released a contented breath as he took in the sight of all his friends together again, along with their partners. Agumon stood silently at his side, a delighted, toothy grin on his face.

Takuma sat down on one of the steps leading up to the shrine, casting his eyes over all of his friends. Minoru and Falcomon joking with Aoi and Labramon… Shuuji and Lopmon with the Professor and Miyuki… Kaito and Miu with Dracmon and Syakomon laughing with them… Ryo and Kunemon talking with Saki and Floramon… A smile spread across his face. It was the reunion to end all reunions.

They had all survived. They were all okay. And they'd made friends to last a lifetime (but not in Kemonogami world time).

#digimon #survive week #survive week 2024 #digimon survive week #digimon survive #gen writes #digimon drabble

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