#so i figure out where they think the line is and follow their lead

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!more female wei wuxian please

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

If Jiang Cheng is captured or killed, they'll kill Madame Yu and Uncle Jiang and Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli is an heir, but not one that can lead their people into battle, and they won’t bother keeping hostages for her benefit.

Wei Wuxian could do it – but with Jiang Cheng gone, she loses her place in the clan, she can't become the wife of their future sect leader if he’s dead. She’s the logical one to lose.

Jiang Cheng is going to kill her. But they’re getting too close to the inn.

She pays a boy to take the medicine and a note back to them in an hour’s time, then whistles, clear and bright cutting through the crowd. The Wen soldiers look at her and she’s hungry and tired but this is her clan’s life on the line here, her sister’s, her fiance’s. “Looking for me?”

There’ a moment of stillness then they’re surging forward and she’s running and they’re chasing and she’s very, very good but they’re fresh. She needs to go someplace they won’t follow.

They’re not too far from Yiling, she thinks.

~

Jiang Cheng is going to kill her.

He wants to go after her, but he doesn’t even know where she is, and that would mean leaving A-jie defenseless on her own, which he can’t do, and Wei Wuxian would never forgive him for doing anyway.

They set a punishing pace to Jin territory, which is where the disciples were instructed to meet up with them. A bit of gamble, but Wei Wuxian had pointed out that Jin Guangshan would likely be playing both sides of the war to his advantage, which is as close to neutral territory as they were going to get.

Once he delivers A-jie to the rest of their disciples, he can leave them to protect her and can leave her to organize them and he can go after Wei Wuxian. He thinks that three hostages is probably one too many – two too many, really, and he wonders how long it will be before his mother’s mouth gets her killed. If they do put her and Wei Wuxian together, that would move up that timetable exponentially.

Part of him is scared Wei Wuxian’s already dead. The rest of him knows better.

If she were dead, the Wen would be flaunting and bragging about. If they’d killed her, they’d be using it to draw him out, but so far there’s been nothing.

Of course, she ruins his plans like always because just when he’s getting ready to go out searching, she appears in the camp and grabs his shoulders and says, “You’ll never guess what I figured out!”

She’s been missing for almost three weeks and just as soon as he feels like he can breathe again he’s going to strangle her. “You!” he hisses and then he’s grabbing her, yanking her into his chest and holding her so tightly that she probably can’t breathe either, although for a different reason.

She’s hugging him back just as tightly, which makes him feel slightly less like he’s losing his mind. He pulls back and she’s wearing robes that she definitely stole and – “Why do you have a flute?”

Wei Wuxian beams, rocking back on her heels.

Most of Jiang Cheng’s relief drains to wariness.

That expression on her face has never meant anything good.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #hessadvv #untamed

[max1461]

I had a dream last night that I ran for president. In the Democratic primary I won California, Alaska, "Washington" (which was directly north of California) and another state whose name I don't remember because it doesn't actually exist, but it was east of Washington along California's northern border (you have to imagine the two of them shaped approximately like triangles, making up an approximate square directly to CA's north).

There was a brief moment when I was in the lead. I knew it wouldn't last, but I remember capitalizing on the opportunity to proudly tell my parents "I'm the front-runner in the race for president of the United States!". Again, this was supposedly the primary, but I recall the electoral map showing blue for the establishment Democrat, red for the Republican candidate (Trump I think), and yellow for me. So maybe it was the national election; I think this is just one of those dream inconsistencies.

Anyway, for whatever reason me and most of my campaign staff were down in a cave. We didn't have internet access anymore, so I was relying on my campaign manager (who was above ground) to clue me in to what was going on. We were in an upper chamber of the cave, and there had been some kind of near-disaster in a lower chamber where the fire department had to come and rescue a bunch of people who were trapped. I don't remember if any of them were part of my campaign staff. Anyway, as the establishment Democrat took the lead, I remember talking on the phone—a big, thick, 90s-style cellphone—with my campaign manager about what I should do. Should I give some sort of statement to the press about it? Should I congratulate the winner on Twitter? He said no, no, don't worry about it; everyone knows you're down in a cave and don't have service, so they can't possibly expect that.

I have no idea why we were in a cave, if it was intentional or we were stuck there. I guess we were just in a cave!

Anyway, then disaster struck! One of my staffers found a bunch of people in need of rescue in our (upper) chamber of the cave! Now, this wasn't as dire as the earlier rescue. These people were much easier to get to. They were like, sort of hanging upside-down from a horizontally suspended rope, like clothes on a clothes line, basically. I don't know how they got that way but they were in a dire state from hanging upside-down for some long. Some of my staffers insisted they could rescue the people themselves (I think they were worried that calling in the fire department again would be viewed as wasteful and damage my campaign). They managed to get some of the people down from the clothes line. I asked my campaign manager what to do (I was still on the phone with him) and he was like "no, call the fire department!". So he put me through to the fire department and I told them what was going on.

You have to understand throughout these events that I'm like, me. I have no idea how to run an electoral campaign, I'm 100% relying on my campaign manager for every cue, and I'm really nervous about figuring out the proper etiquette for everything. When I was asking him about whether I should congratulate the winner on Twitter you have to imagine it in this sort of tone. Like, first day on the job, nervous "I'm following your lead here" energy. And when I get on the phone with the fire department I'm super awkward (I've never called them before!) and as I'm explaining the situation I'm thinking like "good, good, that was normal, I sound normal to the fire department right now".

Anyway then they come down into the cave and start rescuing people. I get back on the phone with my campaign manager and he tells me confidently "look, here's what we do: on Monday you're gonna give a press conference. You'll announce that your bid for the presidency is over, congratulate the winners, and reiterate your policy positions." I don't remember what else he said about it, but basically this was the most graceful way to end the campaign and keep my political career strong. I was a popular candidate with lots of youth support and energy behind me, so it was gonna be easy to parley that into later success. Now, I didn't want a further political career—this campaign was 100% a one-off—but I agreed the press conference would be a good idea. Unfortunately that would mean I had to write a speech by Monday, which was annoying.

Anyway, the establishment Democrat won in the end, and turns out it was Obama.

Then I woke up.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Its really hard to explain to people that have different...like friend levels or.....hierarchies of how they categorize friends and other people in their lives that I just....don't really have that.

Like if I see you and talk to you a lot then you're on the same level as everyone else i see and talk to a lot, you know? Family, friends, significant others probably (never had one so cant say for sure)......I dont feel any different towards any of those groups than the others. Like the only categories I have are people I like, people I dont like, and people I don't really know and don't have much of an opinion on.

If youre in the people I like category and I see you all the time I have a really easy time talking to you when I see you in person. If I don't see you that often I'm gonna struggle to talk to you.

People i don't like are kinda the same tho? Like if we have to be around each other a lot (like at school or work) then I can still talk to you just fine. I may not WANT to but I CAN.

And then people I don't really know are sort of in the same boat with everyone I dont see as often and therefore struggle to speak to when I see them.

And it can feel really awkward to have friends tell me they have me in a different category than their other friends cuz they expect ME to have THEM in a different (higher, I guess?) category than my other friends but I just don't?????? And I dont know how to explain it to them without hurting their feelings??? Cuz I know that it can. In middle school I did say something of that effect to a friend who considered us best friends and she got kinda hurt by it??? So its at the point where if someone calls me their best friend then its just like "well sure fuck it guess we're best friends" but??????? I dont hold them in any higher regard than any of my other friends???? Or my parents???? My feelings towards them is all the same????? And even if I don't see you for a long time my feelings about you dont change. I'm just gonna struggle to talk to you the next time we see each other.

Like theres no difference between friend, best friend, and family to me. Once you have achieved friend status with me THATS IT. There's no where else to go from there! Except maybe back to not friend but thats difficult to do without going in the "I don't like you" category. And you gotta really piss me off (or make me feel unsafe) to get moved there.

#tumblr mutuals is its own category but thats just cuz i dont know any of you in person #except for the 2 of you that i do but youre never online anyway lol #i think the reason i struggle to talk to people after not seeing them for a long time is cuz i have to rememorize their speech patterns #and body language so i can script more effectively #like i can script things out all day long but i struggle to predict how people will respond to some things. even people i know well #and because i dont have a good sense of these things i have to sort of refigure out how THEY see our friendship #and how they talk to me so i know how to talk to them #like if theyre jokingly mean to me i know i can be jokingly mean to them you know? #if they tease me i can tease them back #cuz i enjoy teasing my friends but i dont know where the line is #so i figure out where they think the line is and follow their lead #trying to talk to people is like playing fuckin chess and i am very very bad at chess #actually autistic #and like. its not like all of these people are neurotypicals either #most of them are neurodivergent. a big chunk are autistic themselves. but outside of my parents they all have different friend hierarchies #and at least one of them seems to expect that our friend hierarchies are the same and since im her favorite person in the whole world #that she must be mine. and i dont know how to explain that i dont have a favorite person in the whole world???? #except maybe my cat but shes not really a person #the only difference in how i see any of my friends is how draining it is to hang out with them #and that doesnt effect my feelings towards them. just how often or how long i can hang out with them #if youre really high energy/talk a lot/are super extroverted im not gonna be able to hang out with you as much #if youre low energy/dont talk much/super introverted we can hang out a lot more and probably for much longer #but some people seem to take that as a judgement call or something??? or like being friends should mean those things shouldn't matter????

[diejager]

I love your Only Human fics 😭😭 I can’t help but think what Monster AU 141/Kortac would do if their only human got hurt during a mission….

A continuation maybe please?

Only Human pt3

Pairing: Monster 141 + König + Horangi x reader

CW: blood, injury, canon-typical violence, gun violence, flash grenade go boom boom, explosion, tell me off I missed any. wc: 2.4k

Only Human masterlist

previous

They fucked up, they really flicked up. It was a simple mission, simple enough that you were sent with only three operators. Alejandro with his witness, slinked between enemy lines, shooting up and creating chaos once he shifted, his large body ripping through enemy lines like a hot knife through butter. Gaz with his aerial insights, flew over trees and spotted the soldiers you were shooting through and giving pointers to where they split up and where they collected. And finally, Horangi, stalking between the buildings, jumping from shadow to shadow with a slow sway of his tail, pouncing on his prey with the stealth of a tiger. 

Laswell had promised that it was a quick in-and-out op, slipping through the village at night and taking out the leading figure of this hastily-made gang that was blocking the transport route between two important, allied towns. The shared intel was that it was a gang of ragtag rebels, raiding police stations within the mass, overwhelming the officers with their vast numbers of followers. They stole police equipment, vests, guns, batons, and ammunition, using them to power through the lines of officers and breaking through blockades built by the townsfolk. 

While they weren’t trained in military warfare or had prior training with specialised weapons, they had the advantage of numbers, overwhelming any joint forces with their vast numbers of rebels. It was nearly astounding how many people were being paid and supported by Russia's wealthy Ultranationalists wanting to disrupt the trading routes and hurt the opposing team by prying them of a source of gas and material. 

The few joint forces had slimmed down their numbers, leaving Task Force 141 to clean it up and take over their base of operation within the region. You were told that their numbers rounded a skeleton crew of twenty men, twenty-five at most. That’s why Price sent you four for quick and efficient disposal of the enemy. 

That’s what Laswell gave you, the information burned into your mind from habitual memorization to ensure that your team would be prepared, and yet the data was wrong. Gaz had reported twice the promised number, not as well armed as you were warned but their number brought a changing tide to your mission. You wanted to turn back, to regroup and form another plan, but everyone was already in place and calling them back could be as much of a risk of being caught as storming in. 

Perhaps that’s why you were all so careful and conscious of the dangers, moving in two, Alejandro and Horangi in one part and you walking under Gaz’s protective shadow. The initial plan was to box them in, working through both exits to snuff out any runaways and once you entered the compound, Gaz would drop down and lead ahead. 

That was the plan, until, of course, all hell broke loose. It was chaotic, they were trigger-happy and within untrained hands, their guns were as leather as a trained one with how quickly they spent their magazine, cycling through one and spraying the wall you used for hiding. Soap’s wild clean-up would’ve been extremely helpful in a time like this; Ghost’s hungry haze would’ve swallowed them all up, opening up a way for you to pass; and König’s reckless and unpredictable shift that sent him into a wild frenzy while he tore through the base. 

Unfortunately, they were back home, the little base they called their own when you first joined, yet you still had experienced and protective soldiers by your side, all special forces. Gaz led you with a strong hand and clear head, stopping at every corner to look at all sides before moving forward and you watched his back, looking out for any enemy rounding back. 

Your situation would be - at best - organised chaos, made from what you were given at the moment, faced with a group over a dozen times and without backup waiting behind. There were hushed orders and observations sent back and forth between your groups, cautious warnings on your side and growls from the other. Nick had been informed in case of any immediate evacuation and Laswell, of the sudden change in the plan. You did your best with what you had, leaving bleeding corpses in your wake, slumped over the bloodied floor and against the stained walls, but you hadn’t expected the rapid change of shift in the enemy. They weren’t such men with guns and knives, they were trained - albeit sloppy - in ferality and ruthlessness, jumping at you and Gaz without a second thought.

Every lunge was met with a bullet, rifles firing at the advancing numbers holding a gun, a knife or both, leaving you with a graze or scrape, the skin under your clothes bristled and bleeding. They flooded like moths to a flame, one taking the place of a fallen, and two other taking his place. You were pushed back to back, Gaz’s wings fluttering in stress between you, fighting the need to cover you in a protective shield of muscle and feather. 

“We’re compromised,” Gaz hissed into the mic, sending the message to any open coms on your connected line. “Victor-01, moving your way.”

“Copy,” Alejandro huffed.

Gaz tried leading you away, feet moving fast and steady around the halls you had to memorise for this Op. He tried to lead you safely, but they swarmed you like flies, appearing from every corner in an unending flood of shouting, thumping and firing. Gaz was bound to get hit at this rate, with his big wings and broader shoulders. It worried you that he’d take a bullet for you - you knew he would, as would the others - and get dangerously hurt. Through one door was a group waiting for you, gun trained forwards and ready to fire, but they were slow, sloppy, and they lacked the training and reflexes of a specialist. 

You had time to push Gaz through a door and into a room, you hid on both sides, hiding from the straight line of fire. You unclipped a flash from your belt, waving it at him to catch his attention. It did and his lips broke into a grin, wild and electric at your idea. You had him count down the seconds, his fingers lowering until he balled his fist, shaking it as you pulled the pin out and threw it down the hall. Veering away from the door, eyes closed tightly and hands around your ears, the flash grenade blew up with a loud, ear-piercing screech. It sent them into a blind panic, weapons falling from their hands to rub the burning pain in their cornea, ears deaf to your quick-moving steps towards them, down they went, like those behind you. 

Adrenaline pumped erratically through your veins, bubbling and warming your body to an uncomfortable heat that had you sweating under your gear. You turned another corner and you were closer to Alejandro and Horangi’s location, meeting up with them was your current objective, to regroup and take over the base in one group. They were just down the path, behind the sprinting men in jeans and t-shirts holding guns like it was a big, heavy toy. You could see their tense shoulders relax when they caught sight of you, guard still up and cautious, but glad that you were safe. 

“Hunter,” Horangi hissed, his figure trembling as his nose twitched under his mask. He stared at your shoulder, the damp jacket stained with your blood. “You broken?”

“No, the adrenaline’s keeping me going,” you nodded back, trying to soothe his worry. Being the 141’s medic, you knew the benefits of adrenaline, it numbed the pain, the cold and the burns, but once you calmed down, you’d feel every little scratch.

You limped out of the building, body leaning against Horangi for support, his tail curled around your thigh and body tense in a possessive mood. He kept glancing your way, his golden eyes swirling with worry, pupils small and attentive to every wince you made. He moved according to your pain, urging you to put more weight on him when you walked on your bad leg, where a bullet shot straight through your thigh, bleeding through the quickly put gauze you covered it with and wrapped tightly in bandages. You promised them that you’d properly patch yourself up in the helicopter while they watched before you worked on them. 

With your body riding off the adrenaline that kept you going for the past fifteen minutes, you jerked and winced when you walked on your left leg, the white bandage around your thigh staining red on the side. You were sure Horangi and Alejandro could smell your blood, or they'd been able to smell it before you even saw them, the irony tang wafting around them like a haze of their failure. The failure to let you get hurt and unable to properly protect you, you could feel the tenseness in their shoulders, their lowered head at your smile and the jerky movement when they moved around, seemingly pulling themselves back from doing something. 

Nikolai waved at your group, ushering you in from his seat, strapped safely with his headset on and communication clear between everyone. With a short affirm from Alejandro, Nik took off, the bird curving to the left when he turned west, towards the UK. You waited until the flight was stable, flying through the air softly and steadily before you opened up your pack, searching for items to clean and reward your wound until you returned to the infirmary. You checked your tourniquet, tightening it when you saw that it was slightly loose, ripping open the wrapping around your leg, you reapplied the gauze, adding pressure to it to stop it from bleeding even more. 

You winced and hissed under their watchful eyes, between Alejandro and Horangi, their tails swaying and occasionally curling around your forearm. Gaz, however much he’d like to sit beside you, to fuss and worry openly about your wounds, sat across from you, strapped in with his wings spread wide across the seats. 

“Looks rough, Охотник,” Nik called to the back, light glinting off his glasses. 

“Nothing new, Nik, you know that,” you replied through the coms, a lop-sided smile curling the corners of your lips.

He cackled, a full-belly laugh that had all of you smiling in your own ways. Nikolai was rambunctious, loyal and a big bear of a man. He was human, the other human in the Task Force apart from you (Laswell might’ve been the one sending you across the earth and gathering information, but she - regrettably - wasn’t truly a member.). 

“Да! I do!”

When you landed, the rest of the TF was already waiting outside, arms crossed and shoulders tense. It seemed they got the news of your Op, showing their displeasure with deep frowns and deeper glares, none directed at you or the hybrids, it was some sort of self-hatred and anger at the person that gave Laswell the intel, their promise of it being factual and not sending them any updates on the case. Laswell, herself, was fairly mad, her stressed face pulled sombrely down. 

Soap and Rudy rushed to you, voices low and tones raspy, they hovered near your group, fussing about the blood that caked Alejandro’s forehead, a slight graze from a rifle’s butt and other bruises from slamming into obstacles; Gaz’s slight pinch in the back from being slammed into a wall by a bulldozing enemy when he ran out of ammo; Horangi’s ripped sleeves, gashes bleeding lightly from attempts at slashing and stabbing knives by inexperienced hands; but what worried them the most was you, limping and hanging from Horangi’s shoulders. 

Your eyes were hooded, equal parts exhausted and blood lost, placing all of your weight on the Haetae hybrid. While your upper half was unscathed - apart from the slight bruises forming on your skin - your leg, wrapped tightly in a tourniquet and bandages drowned in red. The amount of red would’ve been worrying if they hadn’t known you, but you’ve survived far more dangerous and life-threatening wounds, bouncing back with revenge. As truthful as it was, it didn’t stop them from worrying. You might’ve been more resilient than most - hybrids credited their resilience to their human parent - you didn’t have the healing ability of hybrids or the immortality of spectres. 

“ ‘m fine, Rudy,” you smiled, so bright and reassuring when you were the wounded one. “Nothing a few stitches and rest won’t heal.”

“Si, but-”

“Doesn’t mean we’re not worried, love.”

Like his callsign, he walked in on your little group silently, peering over Rudolfo’s shoulders, his warm, brown hues meeting yours. His voice was strained with concern, croakier than when you left this morning, waving at them. Rodolfo moved over when Ghost brought his hand forward, Horangi passed you to him with careful and tender hands so that you could be brought to the infirmary without having to walk. You hooked your arms around Ghost’s neck, arms crossed lazily over his back and chin propped up on his shoulder. He held you against his chest, one arm under your ass and another carefully tucked under your knees, watching your wounded leg without touching it. 

You looked at Price and Laswell from your perch, their hushed discussion with shrugging shoulders and crossed arms, but neither looked pleased with the outcome of your mission. You blinked owlishly when you couldn’t find König beside them, head turning from side to side to find the 6 '10 Austrian hybrid, but you still couldn’t find him. Just as you were going to ask Ghost where König was, a hand reached out to grip your forearm, thick fingers softly rubbing your strained muscle. You were met with a veiled face when you turned, brilliant, red eyes stared at your wounded thigh in distaste, his mind throwing him into the scene of the moment, turning and ripping the men that dared harm you to pieces, bloodied and unrecognisable parts of a human. 

“Hey, König,” you called out, pulling him back from his violent daydream where his eyes turned crimson, glazed with bloodlust and rage, promising doom. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Ja,” he replied moments later, snapping to your face with blank eyes, now his regular, ice-blue colour. “To the infirmary first and mess all later. You need to eat and rest well to heal quickly, Schnucki.”

“What about the-”

“You need to rest, lovie. Let them deal with the debrief,” Ghost’s voice was stern and commanding, ending whatever protests you had. 

As if to prove his point, he turned to face Price, his head nudging you to look at your captain, the imposing and dominating figure of Price’s horned head, thick, swaying tail and powerful wing. Price replied with a quick nod, curt in a way that shut down any voice, landing the hammer on the gravel with a resounding boom. You sighed, grumbling lowly about them worrying too much about a flesh wound, exaggerating your condition (in your mind) and threatening them with insubordination that had your commanding officers glare your way.

next

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[suuuupernovaaa]

nìfnu

nìfnu [nɪ.ˈfnu] adv. silently

Anonymous Request: Can I have a story where it’s Ao’nung x Metkayina Reader who’s deaf and a sweetheart. When the Sullys arrive she doesn’t really interact with them so when they see Ao’nung being kind and protective towards her it they feel confused? Just pure fluff.

Lo'ak leans over and nudges his older sister, Kiri, forcefully on the arm.

"Ouch!" she yelps. "What, Lo'ak?"

He points, and she follows the line from his finger. It leads her eyes to Ao'nung, just a few paces down the beach from them, and he's with a Metkayina girl that Kiri doesn't recognize. She's tall, nearly as tall as Ao'nung, with her long hair pulled back into one large, thick braid. She wears a thin, shiny net over her shoulders, and Kiri notes how pretty it is. It glimmers in the sun. Kiri also notes how, even though Ao'nung and this girl are above walker, they are using the hand-speak to communicate.

"That girl. Neteyam tried to talk to her earlier, but she ignored him. And there she is, being so nice to Ao'nung. Who's an asshole."

Kiri elbows her sibling. "To you, he is. He looks like he's being perfectly friendly to that girl. And, I mean, she's very pretty."

"Why are they using the hand speak? They're not in the water."

Kiri shrugs. "How should I know? Stop elbowing me when you want something, Lo'ak. It hurts."

He groans and rolls his eyes, and turns his attention back to Ao'nung and the girl who rejected Neteyam.

--

"How are they adjusting?" I sign to Ao'nung, who shrugs and rolls his eyes. It's no secret that he resents having to teach the newcomers their ways, but I think it's nice. Ao'nung needs to humble himself sometimes, be more like his kind little sister.

"They are slow," Ao'nung signs in return. "I don't want to teach them. It's a waste of my time."

I reach out, pushing on his arm a little. "They seem sweet to me, especially the little one. Try to have patience with them. I would offer to help, but they don't know how to talk to me."

"Yet," he replies, and I smile.

"Yet."

--

Neteyam asks Tsireya about the girl, Y/N, the next day. He's noticed that she only uses hand-speak as well, and wonders.

"She can't hear," Tsireya says. "She's only spoken that way her whole life."

Neteyam could smack himself. He'd taken her silence as harsh rejection, when really, she just wasn't able to respond to him.

"Oh!" he exclaims. "She's, uh, really beautiful."

Tsireya laughs and smiles. "She is, but I wouldn't trouble yourself. Ao'nung has been in love with her for years." She throws a glance to her brother over her shoulder, but he's too busy making fun of Lo'ak to hear.

"Ao'nung?" Neteyam replies hardly, and Tsireya laughs even harder.

"I know. He has a soft spot for her, and her for him. If you want to compete, you'll have to learn hand-speak."

Neteyam shakes his head. She's beautiful, but not worth getting in a fight with the chief's son over. He'll just have to admire her from afar.

--

Though I can't speak, I am very proficient in reading lips. This helps me observe conversations from far away; as long as I have a clear view of someone's face, I can usually figure out what they're saying.

"Ao'nung has been in love with her for years."

That's what Tsireya said, and though she was smiling, it didn't seem as if she was joking. I dropped the plate of fruit I was carrying when she said it.

Is it true? Has Ao'nung been in love with me, and I haven't noticed?

Fruit is scattered all around my feet, and I bend over to begin gathering it again, every interaction I've had with Ao'nung recently playing over in my mind. If Tsireya is right, maybe I have been blind.

Ao'nung has always been kind, and patient and gentle with me. I knew he wasn't like that with many people, but I thought it was most likely out of pity for my condition - not out of love of affection.

A hand reaches out, picking up fruit and dropping it into my basket, and I look up to see Ao'nung himself.

Feeling flustered, I stand up, kicking the fruit basket once again, undoing all my work.

"Are you okay?" Ao'nung signs. I tuck my hair behind my ears, feeling a little speechless. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"Tsireya," I sign, "she told the new boy, the oldest one, that you are in love with me. Is she just teasing him, because he thinks I'm pretty?"

"He said he thinks you're pretty?" Ao'nung signs back, quickly and furiously, glancing over his shoulder at where his sister still sits with the newcomers.

I shove his shoulder. "Yes! Answer my question."

"Well... come with me." Ao'nung reaches out, grabbing my hand and therefore silencing me, and pulls me away from the beach. We move through many huts, past the fires, and to the edge of the beach, where the sparse forest and rocks begin. Here, we are alone.

"Ao'nung!" I exclaim, breathless. "What's going on?"

He rubs his forehead. "I had a plan, to tell you. It wasn't going to be like this. I'm going to kill Tsireya."

I stand, silent, waiting for him to finish. My heart is beating out of my chest, and my palms are shaking; I'm not sure I could speak, even if I wanted to.

"For a long time, I have loved you, Y/N. I have tried to be more... understanding, and gentle, the way you deserve. But it's hard for me. I wanted to be better, before I told you. Before I asked you to be my mate."

Unable to control myself, I gasp, and bring my hands up to my mouth.

Me, the mate to the next Olo'eyktan? It's unimaginable.

"Your parents approve the match?" I ask.

Ao'nung smiles at me softly. "Of course. When I told them how much I love you, they couldn't object. They believe you will make a wonderful Tsahik, because you are so kind and understanding. My mother will teach you everything you need to know - if you want."

That thought alone is a little overwhelming, since Ronal can be so intimidating, but I also imagine she can be a good teacher.

And really, that doesn't matter. What matters is the way I feel when I'm with Ao'nung; special, adored, loved, doted upon. I feel safe with Ao'nung. I feel seen and most importantly, heard.

"I would be proud to be your mate, Ao'nung. So proud. Of course, I love you."

The smile that spreads across his face transforms Ao'nung from the sullen, anxious, grouchy man most have come to know him as. It turns him into the carefree, light and happy man he is when the two of us are together.

I am proud to make him smile like that. I promise myself then, to make him smile like that every day, for the rest of our lives.

#ao'nung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung fic #aonung x reader #aonung fic

[eternally-racing]

not private, not secret | oscar piastri

wc: <1k (short n sweet 😌)

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

genre: fluff

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: you and oscar have kept your relationship secret for this long, but oscar can't help but celebrate with you for his very first formula 1 win.

----

You were well accustomed to being a shadow in the McLaren garage. It’s the way you and Oscar had decided you liked it best.

There was no pressure from the media, no mean comments on social media, and the less prying eyes into your relationship, the better. Only a select few people on the team knew that you were Oscar’s girlfriend, the rest easily bought up the lie that you were the daughter of a very rich investor in the team who wanted to be at every race. It usually wasn’t that hard to keep quiet, but today was a big day and you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest at every turn. For the first time in his Formula 1 career your boyfriend was leading the race, and with only a few more laps to go you were praying that today would be the day that his dream came true. As you looked to the pit wall you could see Andrea’s foot nervously twitching against the foot rest of his chair, he felt it too. This would easily be the biggest moment of Oscar’s career if it comes true, and there are only a few more laps to go. 

It’s a moment you never want to forget as the checkered flag comes out for Oscar’s car. You can’t stop the tears leaking out from your eyes as you hear the jubilation on his voice through the radio. This is a moment that both of you imagined for so long, but the reality of the situation surpassed all of your expectations. It’s a full celebration with the team as everyone is thoroughly overjoyed. You’re swept up with thinking about Oscar that you don’t even notice the other papaya car cross the line after Oscar. It’s a 1-2 finish, there’s not much more a team could ever wish for in a race. McLaren hasn’t felt joy like this in years. There’s a full sea of papaya out in front of the podium to greet the race winner, and you’re not sure where you fit into things - you blend in easily with the crowd while simultaneously being swept up in it. You’ve made a couple of friends in the garage and stick closely to them as the party already seems to be beginning on the paddock. 

You’ve never seen Oscar like this before - he takes a minute in the car before getting out (you can only assume he was wiping his tears of joy, even if he is too stubborn to admit it). You have your phone out taking a couple of pictures yourself - you know that there’s 1000s of cameras around that are also pointed at your boyfriend, but you want to remember what it feels like to see this moment through your eyes. 

After hugging his engineer and the rest of the team members, you can see Oscar’s gaze start to wander around the paddock, and it’s only once he changes directions do you figure out that he’s looking for you. There’s cameras flashing and the live TV feed clearly following over his shoulder, but your eyes are only locked on each other as Oscar reaches out for you. He stays in your arms for long enough that people can probably get the hint that you’re someone special.

“I really couldn’t have done this without you love, thank you” Oscar says with tears pooling in his eyes. This is his “I made it moment”, and he wants nothing more than to share it with you. There’s so many words that you want to say, but you find yourself speechless as you stare into Oscar’s eyes. Instead, you go with the action that you’ve dreamt of doing ever since you started dating. It’s your first helmet kiss of what will be many more to follow. Oscar warned you that it wouldn’t taste very good, especially given the dusty race conditions of the day, but it brings such joy to your heart to be able to celebrate with him.

When Oscar’s up on the podium he points to you as he lifts the trophy up to the cheers of the crowd, mouthing an “I love you” to you down below that you know will make the rounds on social media. But you don’t care one bit about that anymore. People could throw all the hate in the world your way, but there was nothing like the pride of celebrating your boyfriend’s first f1 win.

-----

author's note: was in a bit of a writing slump working on pt.2s for a lot of my other fics so i just wanted to write something short and sweet! hope u all enjoyed it :) My ask box is still open as always if you have any requests. Until next time! - Em <3

#oscar piastri #formula 1 fic #oscar paistri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #op81 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x yn #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #oscar piastri fic #mclaren f1

[leclercings]

Meeting the Sainzs | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x girlfriend!Reader

A/N: I tweaked it a little bit, but this was really fun to write.

You stand in front of your boyfriend's house. A little bit excited, but mostly daunted.

Your boyfriend, Carlos Sainz is an F1 driver from Spain.

You think about the time you first met. You were an F1 journalist for your magazine and when you interviewed him for the first time, sparks flew. After that, you both were inseparable.

But his family doesn't think so. You've met them in bits and pieces- just shy hellos and goodbyes, and they've always judged you.

Or so you think.

This is the first time officially that they've invited you for dinner. And that is why, you are daunted.

You don't want to mess it up, you don't want to sound stupid and definitely don't want to sound like a golddigger.

Of course you can't tell this to Carlos. He offered to pick you up but you refused- saying you could drive from the hotel to his house. You ended up getting lost on the way and being an hour late, for which you've apologized profusely and brought some wine on the way as a thank you.

You take a deep breath in.

You got this.

You ring the bell, and wait. You can feel the sweat trickle down your makeup laden face, it's so hot and also you're super nervous.

The door opens to reveal Carlos.

“Y/N! You made it.” He gives you a peck on the lips.

He walks you inside to the dining area, where everyone is sitting, waiting for you.

There's his dad, mom, both his sisters, their husbands and his cousin along with his wife.

You wave a shy hi.

“Hello, dear,” his dad comes up and hugs you. His dad really adores you, because he's seen you taking interviews.

His mom, and sisters, not so much. They wave a polite hello and go back to their own world.

You feel a little hurt. Carlos doesn't see it, or if he does, he pretends to ignore it.

“Come sit with us,” his cousin Carlos, tells you.

“How're you finding Madrid so far?” He asks you.

“Great,” you reply.

“Mi amor, here's some wine for you.”

You take the glass from Carlos gratefully.

“Everyone, let's have dinner,” his mother says.

You all line up in front of the table.

Everyone lines up at their seat and you're confused as to where to sit. There are two chairs empty but they're not next to each other. You stand there awkwardly as Reyes, his mother, goes to the kitchen.

“¿Por qué incluso la ha invitado?” His sister, Ana whispers. But she's standing so close to you and you hear it.

What they don't know is that you know a little bit of Spanish.

“Chicas, no sean tan groseras.” Carlos replies back as he sees your expression.

He whispers something in his cousin's ear and his cousin empties the seat next to Carlos.

“Let's sit, mi amor.” Carlos gestures you and you follow his movement.

Blanca rolls her eyes. Reyes comes back from the kitchen and looks at you, sighing.

Dinner is lively. You're mostly talking to Carlos and his cousin's wife, and sometimes Carlos’s dad pitches in.

Suddenly Carlos starts coughing.

“Carlos, honey, are you okay?”

He nods.

“I'll get you some water,” you hurriedly get up and go to the kitchen to get some water. Reyes follows you.

“You didn't have to get up, love,” she says, as you're standing in the kitchen trying to figure out where the cold water is. Reyes opens the fridge and motions you to follow her.

Her expression is soft, almost apologetic.

You give the water to Carlos who mumbles a quiet ‘thanks’.

“So tell me, Y/N,” Ana, his sister, pauses, and takes a sip of her wine, “how did you meet Carlos?”

Both of you smile. You stare at each other and you nod at Carlos to take the lead.

His dad and cousin are smiling too. They've heard this story a million times.

“So, Y/N, had to interview me at the hotel, but as always, she couldn't figure out which room to go into so she ended up somewhere else and I was somewhere else.”

You laugh.

“He waited around 15 minutes for me and I rushed in, frantically apologizing for being late.” You continue.

“I was smitten the moment I met her, it didn't matter whether she was late or not.”

Carlos puts his arm around you and kisses you. You blush a little.

“She's been my support through and through,” Carlos continues.

You remember the time when you had been with him during the surgery. Taking out time from your job was a little tough, but you made sure to be there for him whenever time allowed.

“And you've been mine,” you respond back, smiling.

Anybody can see how much you both love each other.

Dinner ends. You're helping to clean up. Ana, Blanca, Reyes and you work in the kitchen silently.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say, breaking the silence while handing Reyes the plates as she puts them in the dishwasher.

“You're welcome, sweetie.” She replies.

“So tell me, Y/N, how's your job going?”

“Amazing. I love travelling, the interaction, and of course, spending time with Carlos. My job is too demanding, but worth it.”

The way you speak about Carlos, the way you say his name with so much love and compassion- both his sisters can see it.

They smile at you.

“We're glad you're here,” Ana speaks up.

You frown, remembering her initial statement but you've decided to forgive her. She's just being protective of her brother, that's all.

“I'm glad too,” you smile at her.

Meeting a significant other's family is quite challenging, especially when it's someone famous. You're not sure what is there in store for you but you're happy that Carlos is by your side- and hopefully his family too.

#f1 #formula 1 #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #cs55 x you #cs55 imagine #cs55 fluff #cs55 x reader #cs55 fic #cs55 #cs55 leclercings #f1 x female reader #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #cs 55 leclercings

[strawberrytoki]

Closer than anticipated

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: You and Spencer visit the unsub's suspected place of hiding to investigate, but his unexpected return forces the both of you into a cramped closet. The forced proximity then leads to an...accident.

Content: mentions of arousal, descriptions of murder

Word count: 1,247

a/n: I heavily imagined early seasons Reid for this one (specifically s2) Also this is heavily inspired from that one scene in teen wolf.

The clock's slender hands couldn't have been moving any slower, and the BAU's members couldn't have been more stiff with tension and anxiety.

The team had decided to send you and Spencer to Cedric Marlin's hideout, since you were both the BAU's most observant members, and the team needed every last bit of evidence to finally catch the criminal. He was the prolific eye-gouging unsub that the BAU was finally able to zero-in on after months of meticulous investigation. The team didn't want to make any arrests just yet, since they wanted a solid case, so you and Spencer were in charge of gathering as much evidence as you can.

The parameter was under surveillance by your fellow team members, and you and Spencer were treading lightly, slowly preparing yourself for whatever was inside this man's place.

You entered the premises, Spencer cautiously following suit. You immediately noticed that the house was dingy and damp, suiting its inhabitant. The stench of what you could only assume was rotting human flesh wafted throughout the house, causing both you and Spencer to physically recoil.

"We'll definitely find all the incriminating evidence we need in here." Spencer started making his way down the hallway, following the increasingly strong stench. He stopped at the entrance of the last room on the left and adjusted his glasses, mouth agape with a mixture of curiosity and shock.

You caught up to him, only to eventually mimic his reaction yourself.

"This must be where he keeps all his souvenirs." He inched closer to the stacked mason jars, filled with a preserving liquid and what you both concluded were the eyeballs of his unfortunate victims.

"unmatched depravity..." Spencer walked around the room in an attempt to find more evidence.

"Anything catch your eye?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ha Ha." He sarcastically chuckled, a playful smile sneaking up on his face afterwards.

The investigation felt like a twisted game, each time one of you found a piece of evidence, the other would somehow find something to one-up the previous discovery in terms of depravity.

After what seemed to be hours of probing into this psychopath's lair, you and Spencer figured that you'd gotten everything you needed, and were about to head out. Just then, the sound of a cacophonous creak in the door sent a quick chill through both your spines. You knew it wasn't any of your teammates, since they wouldn't break protocol like that, and they didn't need to.

If there's anything this line of work has taught you, it's to always assume the worst case scenario. You were a realist, this was no gust of wind. It was him, and you both knew it.

You slowly craned your neck to Spencer, who appeared just as perplexed as you were. His mouth was agape and by the calculative look on his face, his mind was probably running at about a thousand thoughts per minute, trying to figure out a way to get both of you out of this mess unscathed.

You stealthily maneuvered around the room to get a proper perspective on the unsub, and Spencer was right behind you, his calm breath landing near your ear.

He slinged his plastic bag, that you did not want to know the contents of, on the kitchen counter. He had a leather eyepatch covering his left eye, and his clothes were covered in grime and reeked of filth.

Much to your horror, the unsub started making his way towards your location, and you needed to think fast if you didn't want your eye sockets to be what remains in your casket.

"We need to find somewhere to hide before he gets any closer." You faced spencer and slowly started backing away, a worrisome expression on your face. Spencer nodded and carefully followed suit.

You frantically looked around, knowing that the time you had to spare was decreasing by the millisecond. Finally, your eyes landed on a small closet near the corner of the room. The door looked like it was on it's last leg, but beggars can't be choosers. You quickly held Spencer by the wrist, yanking him forward. Both of you then squeezed into the cramped closet, and were facing each other. Neither of you dared let out a sound.

Spencer didn't seem all that uncomfortable, but you still tried to maintain as much space between the two of you, since you knew how he felt about physical touch.

Through the cracks of the closet door, Spencer saw the unsub pack a larger ice pick than what he usually used to disfigure his victims, and a bunch of other weapons. "This is a drastic change in MO, he's either evolving or this is his endgame..." you tried to fully process what he just said as you nodded in agreement, but the proximity was simply too distracting. However, you admired how observant he was even in times of stress.

A few minutes passed as the two of you were observing the unsub, just then, you felt something relatively hard poking you, and as the realization that Spencer had an erection dawned upon you, you felt the color leave your face.

You slowly lifted your face to face Spencer, and it looked like he'd rather be anywhere on earth but here. Even though the confined space was dark, you could tell his flustered face was as red as a tomato, and he was bent on avoiding eye contact.

"I'm...so sorry-" he blurted out.

"It's alright." you interrupted him. You tried to ease the tension by reminding yourself that he had no control over it, but that only did so much. "I'll just turn around." You then shuffled around the very limited space to face the front, with your back to him. At least then, you wouldn't have to face him.

"Uh...that's not helping." You both scratched your heads in frustration and confusion. This was clearly not the time and place for such a bodily reaction and you both knew it, but you couldn't help but get flustered over it as well.

You then realize that the unsub must've been hard of hearing, as there's no way he would've heard all the shuffling and not done a thing if he wasn't.

Just then, you felt your radio device turn on and couldn't be more relieved. It was Hotch trying to get an update, and you readily filled him in. It was only a matter of time before they entered the premises with the S.W.A.T team.

You then heard the door being broken off its rusty hinges, probably courtesy to Morgan, and judging by the altercation near the door, you concluded that the arrest has been made. You then felt yourself letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and pushed open the closet's door, feeling a welcoming, slight breeze of air.

Spencer then reluctantly faced you, his cheeks stained with an adorable shade of pink.

You decided to help him out a bit and break the ice.

"This wasn't how I imagined this investigation would go..." you awkwardly chuckled as you both made your way outside.

"No...me neither." He looked up to the sky, his eyes slightly squinting. He was probably just glad this was all over, for more reasons than one.

You, on the other hand, weren't planning on letting this go that easily, and were definitely planning on taunting him by bringing this incident up in case he ever got smug with you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid blurb

[privitivium]

can you write another Yan streamer x m!reader but have it yan!streamer invite reader to his stream for some gaming and chat actually liking reader a bit more than yan!streamer or just trolling on him, then maybe after the reader and yan!streamer start talking about dicks again and reader mocks yan!streamer saying he probably cums quick like a virgin, and then it inevitably leads to them jerking off together on a video call both mocking each other about how their faces look or the noises they both make just a angry video jerk off sesh.... and if I had to use like the terms you listed on your rules probably a domtop m!reader x dombot yan!streamer vibes, both fighting for dominance but reader wins ^_^

sorry it took so long, havent been getting lotta inspo to write for streamer yan ....... sorry for any mistakes mwah

yandere amab streamer x loser amab reader

[ his name is ambrose. he just looks like an ambrose shh. ] cw;; masturbation, creep streamer - mentions of stalking

it's a wonder how he manages to live so long. this goddamn idiot… he, ambrose - a friend, some weirdo streamer ( who you watch on the down low ) who invited you on his stream.

skeptical of course, as anyone would be really… like, would you be doxxed for hanging out with this guy??? he did have quite the following - ( you werent about to admit that he's pretty ), so it'd be a bit normal to have a few threatening comments directed at you.. haha. but that didn't seem to be the case at all! entering with the line, “you ruined my cloud watching.” when in reality you were just fucking around on your computer with no intent to play nor bother nor be bothered nor cloud watch - stealing the attention quite easily with idiotic one-liners after you kill him. the score, 10 to 3. how embarrassing for him…

“you literally keep giving yourself away, what's wrong with you?” you grunt, annoyed. yet humorous... not watching his stream for once to take him down for once… how commendable. but with one quick glance at his chat would tell you all you need to know, really… they seemed to favor you. your “cloud-watching” really got through to them, huh??? ( of course it was ambrose talking about you to his chat beforehand ) ah - in the midst of reading the flirtatious and ego-boosting comments, you were killed in your hunkered down position by melee.. yeah fuck this guy. grumbling to yourself as he laughs at you, face growing warm - anger or embarrassment? both.

“dude, just say AFK?” ambrose snorts, acting as though you are stupid. fuck you can't stand that tone of voice… obviously, you actually being pissed off is something he immediately takes note of - after a few more minutes of badgering you, he decides to end the stream. a sorrowful goodbye from his chat to you… how sweet.

ambrose humming in delight, clicking away and immediately running around the map to figure out where you respawned. if only he could stream snipe you like you do him... the second best thing is just watching you on a smaller monitor playing in your room. jerking off every other night like a crazed freak... him to you. he cant help himself, alright?!ㅡ“what do you know? who just got knifed in the throat?” that smug little bastard. in a private room, 1v1 on a relatively huge map… just for the comedic appeal for his viewers as he told you over messages

ㅡ“fuck you, i was away from keyboard!!”

“good game..” he says after an awkward throat clearing - squirming in his chair, trying to keep his tone from wavering…

“whatever, fuck you…” obviously having no other insult other than the classic fuck you. you grimace at your words, knowing you could've done better - done worse, commenting on his physical appearance again, or even mentioning dicks. but you were… hn. thinking about something else. jerking off after this ends…

ㅡ"yeah, yeah, i bet you dream of that…”

“no… who would want to dream of fucking a two-pump fuck like you?” you wrinkle your nose, grinning mischievously as you exit the lobby - relaxing back in your chair… “you wouldn't last.” you say simply, glaring over the camera at his form over the monitor.

ambrose scoffs, jerking his head back in disbelief. was he really talking this way to his object of affection? this is just like the dick thing all over again. he already feels his dick itching - precum smearing and staining his boxers as he aches uncomfortably in-between his legs.. “you probably can't last long… you seem like the type of virgin to cum right when he sticks his dick inside someone. or even something.. ” he huffs - a bit too nonchalantly. you weren't even on stream to be play fighting like this - ( doing it mostly for attention and because it's just your attitude - ) yet here you were.. “you seem to be the type to just use toys cuz he can't get anyone to let him fuck...” he grumbles under his breath, obviously picked up by his high-quality mic- it seems your comment hurt him, huh…?

“naah…” you shake your head, lackadaisical. “i pride myself in lasting long.” with multiple long lasting sessions of edging - yes, you couldn't not gloat. and this fucking guy would have no way of knowing if you were being serious or not… of course - ambrose knew this. he knew all too well of course?? spying on you, masturbating to clips of you jerking it - one so reminiscent it pops into his head doing his daily routine... your thighs trembling from overstimulation of not cumming, your head thrown back against your chair, fist gripping at your dick and languidly stroking... teasing yourself. augh..

ambrose pauses for a brief moment - looking off camera and fiddling with his keyboard. a moment of awkward silence… you fear you went too far with your teasing before he breaks the uncomfortable quiet withㅡ“why don't you prove it?”

ㅡhuh?

“prove it?” you repeat, dumbfounded and glancing at the monitor displaying his face - jumping slightly when you see him already glaring into you, immediately looking away. “prove it by what, jerking off in front of you?” you scoff at the idea - definitely open to it. it sounds like something you jerked off to once anyhow - and to live it out with this fucking jackass tryhard? hm.

“... yeah. let's see who'll last the longest…” ambrose shrugged, all “cool-like”. “actuallyㅡno.” he shakes his head, grinning smugly as he runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair, playing his chill-relaxed guy persona.. “i already know it'll be me, no need to embarrass you.” he snorts, shaking his headㅡ

he gets anxious after you don't reply for the next minute. you couldn't help it - you were thinking excruciatingly hard about the offer - jacking off to each other, technically? well.. don't mind if you do…

“... sure.” you finally decide, pursing your lips and making a point not to look at the screen displaying his face, fiddling with your keyboard. “i'll win. you're a fucking virgin, after all..” still getting one last grumbling insult in… sounding utmost serious about the whole ordeal, and he was sure you would. he ... really, realistically, wouldnt last a minute...

“s-sure??” he questions, making sure he heard you correctly - seriously? SERIOUSLY SERIOUS? already fumbling with his pants - dick hard from just talking to you, the person he held deep affection forㅡ

"y-you look.. so .." you exhale deeply, biting harshly on your bottom lip as you thumb the slit of your cock; warm spit-covered palm gripping softly, up down up down.. urk-! head tilted back and glaring into the monitor that displays his frame, shirt pulled up revealing his abdomen and a full shot of his cock that he was abusing- you can't finish your first sentence, it was supposed to be an insult... but the coiling of your lower intestines distracts you - and you try to dissuade your bodyㅡ”really… i can tell you're seriously holding back.” trying to act all nonchalant while beating your dicks on video chat.. fucking nerds.

"y-you're one to talk, look at you!!" he hisses, almost slamming his hand on the table as he grips the base of his cock. jesus. fucking loser ass nerds. "you're clearly about to cum. j-just look at your faceㅡwhat, do i get you off?? cmon, you can tell me.."

tell him that he gets you horny? as if, that fucking creep.

#ocs =͟͟͞͞★ #streamer yan :3 #male reader #x male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #x dom male reader #x top male reader #dombot male character #bttm male character #yandere oc x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere male x reader #yandere m x m reader #yandere male x male reader

[chenfleur]

where the heart leads, the eyes follow

summary. suddenly, jungwon is everywhere you look and part of every thought you think.

pairing. jungwon x y/n

genre. fluff, classmates to lovers, y/n inner turmoil 👍

word count. 0.9k

released. 03.05.2024

author's note. feedback is appreciated! i need to know how long it takes u guys to write drabbles i feel like i'm doing something wrong 😭😭😭 like why do they take me FOREVER

masterlist

For some godforsaken reason, Yang Jungwon has always been there.

There. Right in your field of vision. Running the school festival's concession stand when you were craving funnel cake. Next to Nishimura Riki on the soccer field when your eyes dart to him, yet also next to Sim Jaeyun when they land on him next. Conveniently seated two columns to your left in your economics class, so when you turn to speak to your friends, you're forced to see a head of midnight hair.

It's irritating. A nuisance.

You hate how Jungwon is somehow always there, because when he is, he's the only one in the room you ever see.

His presence is permanent and permeating; it causes unfilled lesson notes and empty documents to stare up at you every class, begging for your attention while you beg for your attention to stray for once. To not leave a question set half-finished because he just carded a hand through his hair—to not feel your chest weakly twinge whenever he laughs at something his pretty desk mate said.

At some point, you begin to see Jungwon even on the days he isn't there. Even without a stimulus, you can see the lines of his figure that carve out the definition of his shoulders and the sharp inner corners of his cat-like eyes. Your brain is more familiar with the sight and thought of Jungwon than not, including him in an infinite number of mental paintings and films, as if he was as customary in your life as the changing seasons.

Life was better before this bullshit, you think in exasperation.

You hate how the subject at the forefront of your thoughts was just some boy—how he manages to seemingly go about his life so effortlessly while confusion, turmoil, fear settles in your gut.

What's going on? Is this some twisted joke? Why is he always there—

"Y/N?"

His voice comes from behind your open locker door.

You've never heard his voice this close before.

Your name sounds like honey dripping off his tongue, and yet you don't know what to think of it. The rapid beating in your chest and the uncomfortable churn of your stomach are giving you mixed signals.

Cautiously, you close the locker shut. Your voice comes out in a weak exhale.

"Jungwon."

A serene smile appears on his lips. "I wanted to say congratulations. If anyone deserved to speak at the district gala, it's you."

You blink slowly. "District gala?"

"Yeah! You got it, didn't you?"

That doesn't make any logical sense.

Sure, you'd wanted to represent your school and speak in front of the district's administration—but that opportunity has only ever rightfully belonged to one person, and he's standing right in front of you.

"I-I thought you were speaking at the gala."

Jungwon tilts his head at you in a way that makes you feel like your knees could give out. "Pretty sure the name the principal just said over the PA system sounded a lot like yours and nothing like mine," he teases, leaning against the locker next to yours.

Silence falls over the two of you while your gaze is trained on a floor tile, the process of digesting the fact that you'd be giving a speech at the district gala significantly slowed down by Jungwon's looming presence. He looks down at you, a fond speckle in his eye, before he speaks again.

"You can say no, but I have a favour to ask," he says softly. "I have a few parts of my original speech that I really want to make heard. I was wondering if you'd be willing to include them on my behalf?"

He's clutching a small piece of folded paper in between his slender fingers, holding it out for you to take.

You're sure you take way too long to react, shakily reaching out to take the paper from him. Your skin is set aflame when your fingers brush against his.

Trying to pinpoint the emotion Yang Jungwon evokes in you has led you to feel a billion different ones in the process, each one more conflicting than the last—

—and yet, in this moment, you let down your defences.

Letting yourself fall into the sea of stars behind his irises.

Four months later, you're walking up to the stage's wooden podium, over the top of which you're greeted by an auditorium of three hundred different faces.

There's amazement, and then there's anxiety. It manifests in the dry gulp you take and the tightened grip of your hands on the sides of the podium. Your eyes frantically dart around for something to focus on, searching, searching—

Jungwon.

He's there, leaning against a far pillar with one hand in the pocket of his dress pants, and the other holding a glass of sparkling juice. There's a delicate, sterling silver charm bracelet wrapped around his wrist, a singular charm of your initial attached to it.

Your eyes flicker down to the near identical one on your own wrist, the charm with his initial glimmering under the chandelier lights.

With a clear of your throat, you redirect your gaze to the audience. Instinctively, it falls again on the boy against the far pillar.

The one with his phone camera pointed at the stage and the prettiest smile on his face.

Jungwon always seems to be there, waiting for your eyes to land on him.

Or maybe, in a room filled with people, he's the only one you've ever looked for.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen oneshots #enhypen drabbles #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon fluff #jungwon imagines #jungwon scenarios #enhypen fic

[ghostsy]

Smile For the Camera

WARNINGS: yandere, implied kidnapping, implied imprisonment, abuse of power, slight codependency, non-consensual implications, implied nsfw, implied forced pregnancy, lot of implications lol

A/N: been sitting in the drafts for a while, figured i should get smth out, hopefully it's alright ^^

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! BAKUGOU KATSUKI X READER

“Her eyes are up there, creep.”

She had to resist the urge to sigh, lip twisting in slight pity, watching the boy stammer out an apology as he fumbled with the mic at her chest. She scoffed internally. Was he supposed to put it on blindfolded? She turned to her lover, giving him a gentle, reassuring smile.

It’s okay. I’m okay.

Crimson irises met her own, hesitating a bit as his jaw tightened reflexively. He smacked his tongue against his teeth, rolling his eyes, and turned to the host who was shuffling through her cue cards. Memorizing her lines, it seemed.

“I don’t want any of that surprise shit, alright?” His voice was laced with the sort of irritation that would normally send her on full alert. They were in public right now, though, and callous, gruff reputation aside, he was no idiot, “We’ll walk out; I’m not fuckin’ kidding, we’ve done it before.”

The host laughed out his name–his hero name–nervously, “Of course not, sir. All of our questions were sent to your assistant for prior approval,” As she caught his unimpressed stare, she stumbled out another placation, “But, I mean–Of course, if you–you’re more than welcome to look over them again, sir.”

“Fuckin’ stop it with that–‘sir’--makes me feel old as shit.” Did it? That was news to her. He certainly liked it when it came from her lips. Her mind wandered to its most recent recollection. When she was forced to her knees, his hand at the back of her neck, pooling the tears from her eyes at the dip where her cheek met the pillow–she couldn’t remember what she’d done wrong that time. 

Where he’d brought his lips to her ear,  C’mon, voice rough and deep, Ask me nicely, now, And, raising his voice a few octaves to mock her, Please, sir. He huffed out an ugly laugh, Please give me your cock, sir. God, she hadn’t been able to walk straight for days, legs and dignity sore and bruised from the abuse–only one of which ever really seemed to recover.

“Of course, si–Of course. We’re on in–We’ll be ready in five, if that’s alright?” He gave the woman a curt nod, and she’d shuffled off to the stage to prepare, calling the intern tending to her to follow, a direction the boy took with palpable relief, eyes brushing her own apologetically before he hurried off.

“Hey,” The blonde’s attention was turned back to her, and he stalked forward, “Last one, alright?” He brought his hand to her cheek in comfort, though all she could think of was the ease at which he could snap her neck between his fingers without so much as blinking.

She shook herself from her thoughts, humming, and brought her hand to cup his own, leaning into his touch. “It’s alright,” At least I’m outside, she wanted to say, “Long as I’m with you, I’m alright.”

His eyes softened at her answer, and he opened his mouth to reply when the lights dimmed, catching his attention. His hand dropped to catch her own, lacing their fingers together, tightening with tension. She had to resist the urge to wince. Though entirely different in circumstance, she felt slight vindication for his fear, no matter how fleeting. She’d take what little wins she could get. 

She was pulled back to reality by the tug of his hand, and let him lead her to the couch across from the host. Fuck. Looking out at the crowd, she remembered how much she really did hate these things. Hundreds of smiling faces, millions more behind the camera, all glinting with pity–for all the wrong reasons–and cooing at the sickeningly sweet story spun for the masses to cling to with glee, without question.

There was a call of her name, “And, how are you adjusting? After what you’ve been through,” What she’s been through. She suppressed a bitter laugh. As if it was all over, as if she was safe. 

“It’s been hard, of course,” She’d rehearsed the lines in the mirror, and recited variations in numerous interviews before, “But I’m so grateful, you know,” That didn’t stop the tears that fought their way up her throat, “To have him by my side–he really is–he really,” God, the words felt like acid on her tongue, “He really is my hero.”

The crowd awed, and the host brought a hand to her chest, “How beautiful,” She caught his side eye–suspicious–and she squeezed his hand in reassurance, “The two of you–really the silver lining in an otherwise horrible happenstance.”

She laughed lightly, ignoring the burn in her chest, “I’m so grateful. I don’t know what–I couldn’t imagine what I’d do without him.” She moved to wrap her arm around his own, leaning into his shoulder. Time had conditioned the contact to feel like a sort of comfort.

The host smiled, and turned back to ask him a question, something about how he’d found her, how he’d saved her.

How had he found her? She remembered meeting him a few times before–she’d worked for the number one hero, his childhood friend–and he’d never spared her more than a cursory glance, and the exchange of brief, formal pleasantries while she sat in on their meetings, transcribing, taking notes, just doing her job. 

“Was just doin’ my job,” Ha. Ironic. “S’what heroes do.” He looked at her for a moment, softly, and she wanted to tear his eyes out, “We save people and we fuckin’ win.” He gave his signature sharp, crooked smile, and the audience roared to life, hands clapping in misguided awe and appreciation.

How had he found her? What did she have that the millions of men and women and people that wanted him–that dreamed of him–didn’t? She wished she could erase it–tear out whatever part of her had captured his attention–maybe he’d have left her alone if she’d been able to kill it.

“The determination, the grit it must’ve taken,” The host started up again, “Years of searching, it’s truly amazing how you managed to save her.” 

How had he saved her? He liked to remind her that that’s what he had done. She remembered being called into work late–a normal occurrence, but she still cursed herself for obliging that day–being met, not by her boss, but him. Maybe she would have said yes if he’d gone about it differently–if he’d taken her out on a date, brought her flowers, spoke to her softly and gently–but he wasn’t ever soft, and he wasn’t ever gentle.

“M’not a fuckin’ pussy, that’s how. I ain’t backin’ down from a challenge just ‘cause it’s hard.” Yeah. He never backed down from a challenge. Though, he never stopped to think that maybe a challenge was not a dare, not something to overcome, that maybe the challenge didn’t want to be a challenge at all. That this challenge didn’t want to be a conquest, that she wanted to be a person.

“And you,” The attention was back on her, “How strong you are,” She hated that look; everyone she met these days gave her that look, “The fear and pain you must’ve endured is unimaginable.” Well, she was half right, she supposed. 

She was stupid to think she knew pain before–she didn’t know pain–not the kind of pain she’d come to call home these past years. The type of pain that came in the form of finger shaped burns, and ugly sticky white staining the inside of her thighs. The type of pain that was loud and angry and all consuming, that bruised her hips, rubbed her throat raw, left her aching and shaking and breaking. The type of pain that took and took and took until there was nothing left of her to give–and yet, still took more.

“Hopefully there’s some consolation,” The woman continued at her silence, “That the people who did this to you–who imprisoned you–have faced justice.”

She wanted to laugh until she screamed. She’d long been disillusioned with the idea of justice. Justice. Ha. What a joke. She’d made her peace with the hand she’d been dealt. Resigned herself to what cruel fate the god she didn’t believe in had bestowed upon her. Why then, why now, had he graced her with a window to her prison? She knew why. Subconsciously, her hand fell to trace along her stomach.

“It’s…relieving, to say the least.” She forced a laugh, and caught a look she took as approval on her warden’s face. “All I want to do now is settle down, move on…” She swallowed. Come on. You’ve done this a million times. “Start our family.”

He took his arm from her grip to wrap around her shoulders, flashing a sharp smile, “That’s my fuckin’ girl,” Her cheeks heated–more from annoyance than embarrassment–but the crowd awed all the same. “Strongest damn person I’ve ever met.”

Strong? That was a new one. Usually she’d get the opposite; weak, helpless, quirkless. Was she strong? She could find a million reasons to contradict the idea. Someone strong would’ve fought, would’ve kicked and screamed and cried until someone–anyone–listened to her, until she truly was free. She’d rolled over and shown her belly so easily, hadn’t she?

No. She did fight. She’d gone through all the kicking and screaming and crying she could. But the years had worn her down. She found it was easier–and less painful–to let him have his way. He could be soft when he had his way; he could be gentle when he had his way; she decided she liked it when he was soft and gentle. And so, he had his way.

Still. Someone, not her, could make the case that she couldn’t be strong at all, to go along with this farce. And to this person she’d point them to–

“The Hero Commission truly is an outstanding institution,” The universe had a sick sense of humor, didn’t it? “To keep a case like this–no leads–open so long,” The host smiled a smile with too many teeth, “We are so lucky to have the protection from such noble leaders.”

He replied, something about heroes and how great and strong and infallible they were. She was too busy fantasizing about how lovely the world would’ve been had it been turned to ash and dust all those years ago. 

Because, honestly. How bad could the villains be? If it was a hero that had imprisoned her. A hero who had stolen her from her life and raped her and impregnated her all in the name of love. How bad could the villains be if it was the heroes who kept her trapped in this joke of a life? She decided she liked villains more than heroes. At the very least, they owned up to their crimes. 

She turned to look at him, his sharp features, built like a tank, and yet, still entirely too pretty for the devastation he had wrought upon her. She couldn’t tell if he was a hero or a villain. She couldn’t tell if she hated him or if she loved him. 

“I ain’t into all that sappy shit,” He started, “But, end of the day, I’m the luckiest fucker in the world havin’ her here with me. Wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

Both? Maybe it was both. Could you hate someone you loved? Could you love someone you hated? He lifted his arm to ruffle her hair, and she decided it didn’t matter. She’d long resigned herself to this fate; what was another resignation?

“No,” She turned as the audience roared to life, “Not a single thing.”

And she smiled for the camera.

#yandere bnha #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugou katsuki x reader #yandere bakugo katsuki x reader #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere katsuki

[reiding-writing]

Spencer who learned like a whole sss language or something niche like knitting, so he can teach it to reader cause he heard her talking about how hard it is to find a good teacher???

acts of service [ s.r ]

Summary:

Hobbies are supposed to be relaxing. So when Spencer sees you dwindle into frustration at your newfound hobby of embroidery, he takes it upon himself to teach you better than any low quality youtube tutorial would.

WARNINGS: unserious threat of self-induced harm, lots of mentions of needles and piercing things, horrible description of how to do a chain stitch 😭

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 2.0k

masterlist!!

a/n: i genuinely spent about 15 minutes trying to figure out how to do a goddamn chain stitch because lo and behold, the internet sucks when it comes to tutorials 😭

Spencer watches from across his desk as you re-attempt a stitch in your embroidery hoop for the sixth time before giving up and throwing the hoop down on your desk with a huff and leaving to get a cup of coffee, muttering something under your breath about “Stupid stitches,”

He’d been watching you try in vain to learn to embroider for almost three weeks, and it was getting to the point where he was frustrated for you.

You’d picked it up as a way to relieve your stress whilst working, and instead you’ve manged to frustrate yourself to the point where you’re literally having to remove yourself from your desk to calm yourself down.

“Are you alright?” Spencer raises his eyebrow at you as you return to your desk with a cup of coffee cupped in your hands, and you sigh as you take a seat.

“I’m two minutes away from sticking my embroidery needle in my eye so I don’t have to look at this monstrosity anymore-” You place your mug down on your desk, holding the embroidery hoop to your face to judge your own creation.

“Please don’t,” Spencer’s tone carries genuine care for your well being, but its also followed by a laugh on the back end which indicates he knows you’re not serious.

“Why do I do this to myself?” You ask the question to no one in particular as you lean your head over the back of your chair, swivelling it back and forth with your foot as a pivot and leaving your hand to fall into your lap.

“Studies have shown that having hobbies, particularly creative ones, can decrease the amount of cortisol produced in our bodies over time, leading to an overall more relaxed state of being,” Spencer mirrors the way you turn in your chair as he watches you, answering your rhetorical question as if it were completely serious.

“I can tell you right now that I am the exact opposite of relaxed,” You exhale through your nose, joined by a shake of your head as you straighten your posture once more. “I think its time I cut my losses and give up,”

“No you should keep up with it, it’ll be much easier once you’ve got the hang of things,” He tilted his head slightly at you as he voiced his encouragement.

“Easy for you to say Mr. ‘I have an 187 IQ and an eidetic memory’,” You roll your eyes at him, although your expression betrays the fact that you’re not truly antagonistic towards his intelligence. “Half of the tutorials i’m watching don’t even actually show how to do anything,”

Spencer chuckles as your eyes examine the three straight lines of red stitching in the fabric like you were trying to incinerate them with your mind before discarding the hoop to the corner of your desk to actually get some work done.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’s two weeks before the topic of embroidery comes up again, you sat cross-legged and hunched over in your jet seat on the way back from a case in Montana, eyes boring into the fabric as you tried to create a shape vaguely resembling a circle.

“You shouldn’t hunch over like that you know,” Spencer sat down in the seat next to you with a yawn, leaning back against the padding of the leather chair with his head tilted in your direction. “It’ll tighten the muscles in your neck and give you a tension headache,”

You huff at his chastising of your posture considering his own but straighten your back nonetheless, holding your embroidery hoop at eye-level as you carefully puncture the fabric.

He’s glad to see that you haven’t given up on embroidery yet. Partly because it’s good for you to have a hobby that had zero relation to your job and partly because it meant that his 18 hours of research over the last ten days hadn’t been in vain.

“If you’re going in a circle it’s better to use a chain stitch,”

Your eyes flicker upwards at Spencer’s suggestion, wonky thread oval forgotten about as you narrow your eyes at him slightly in an accusatory fashion. “How do you know that?”

“I uh-” Spencer blinked a few times, eyes flickering across the jet’s cabin as he tried to find a reasonable explanation for his sudden knowledge in embroidery that wasn’t because he wanted to be able to teach it to you. “I know a lot of things,”

His intelligence was usually a valid excuse for whatever niche bit of information would come out of his mouth, but you knew for a fact that he had no prior knowledge on how to embroider something. He might have known the history of it at a stretch, but how to physically embroider something? Absolutely not.

If he had he would have told you weeks ago. So this was definitely something new.

“Mhmm, apparently so,” You nod with clear suspicion riddling your expression, but you weren’t about the turn away his help just because you were suspicious of the origins of his newfound expertise in embroidery. “Alright genius, show me then,”

You hold out the hoop in his direction and he takes it from you with an awkwardly endearing smile, un-stitching your botched attempt at a circle and turning the hoop at an angle so that you could see what he was doing.

It was only six stitches, but the way he passed the needle through the fabric was effortless, and it left a perfectly symmetrical blue circle in it’s wake.

“Chain stitching is much easier to curve than straight stitching due to the nature of how the needle passes through the fabric,”

If you weren’t so beholden to his ability to be good at absolutely everything he does you’re sure you’d be a little jealous. Or maybe it was the way his eyes glistened as he looked at you. No. It definitely wasn’t that. You were just grateful he was willing to help you, that’s all.

“Show me how to do it then if it’s so easy,” You shift yourself towards the leather arm that’s separating the two of you, leaning your elbows on it to watch him more closely as your eyes locked on the way the pads of his fingers held the needle.

“Here,” He held it out towards you, blunt side up, as an indication for you to take it. “I’ll walk you through it,”

You take the needle from him with a raised eyebrow, one that only continued to rise as he passed you back your embroidery hoop as well and leaned towards to to angle the fabric at a 45 degree angle towards himself so that he could see what you were doing.

“Alright, so first you want to pierce the needle through the back of the fabric towards you and pull all of the thread through,” You follow his instructions as he speaks, nodding once you’ve garnered yourself a big loop of thread that’s connected under the fabric at one end and your needle at the other.

“Alright?”

“Alright, now go back through that same hole from the top, and bring the needle back up through the fabric about a centimetre downwards, only half pulling the needle through,” You furrow your eyebrow slightly but try to follow him, although he stops you as you attempt to pull the needle all the way through with his hand on top of yours.

“Don’t pull it all the way back through,” He adjusts his body to face a similar direction to yours. “Here, let me help,”

His hands brush the tops of yours as one comes to assist you in holding up the hoop of fabric and the other guides your fingers in holding the needle. His skin is frigidly cold against your own, although whether that’s just because you run hotter than him or the fact that he’s so close to you you feel like you’re internally harbouring volcano you’re unsure.

With his hand guiding your own, you reinsert your needle back through the original hole you’d made from the top down and pierce it upwards through the fabric a little further across, leaving both the tip and the end of the needle above the fabric with the middle underneath.

“Good yeah, now this is the complicated bit, you need to get the rest of your thread,” He loops his ring finger around the excess thread, and makes an effort to move his fingers as slowly as possible so that you can see exactly what he’s doing. “and wrap the start of it underneath the tip of your needle,”

He demonstrates his words as he speaks, pulling the beginning of the loop of thread tight underneath the tip of the needle before slowly pushing the needle all the way through the fabric until it’s free once more, and there’s a small looped stitch in the fabric.

“And then to create your next stitch you do the same steps, but start inside of the first loop,” He again demonstrates his words as he uses your hands to make a second stitch that, like the name suggests’ creates a two-stitch chain from where the stitches are connected.

“See, really simple, just a little convoluted in terms of instructions,” His eyes turn away from the fabric and back towards yours once he’s finished his explanation, although yours remain on your needle. “Think you can do it on your own?”

It takes you a second to come back to your senses, and you blink up at him blankly for a moment before nodding, a soft “yeah I think so…” echoing from your throat.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were to distracted by the way his hands moved against yours to listen to a single thing he said.

“Let me know if you need any more help okay?” He gave you that awkwardly endearing smile that reached his eyes and made you want to scream into your hands at the prospect of being so perfect.

You return it with a half-stunted nod as you desperately turn your eyes downwards to your fabric again, unable to look at him any longer without flushing red light a traffic light. “Yeah thanks-”

“I’ll teach you how to do a running whipped stitch next, it uses two different colours of thread,”

Whipped is right-

Spencer’s tone held all the enthusiasm of a child who’d just learned that you could mix multiple colours to create a new one, and it easily rubs off on you as you resign yourself to actually listening to what he’s trying to teach you instead of just fawning over how it feels when he touches you.

“Can you- show me how to do a chain stitch one more time?”

“Of course!”

The minute his hands touch yours again you know you’re done for.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I know you probably JUST posted the FNAF Movie request where the reader possesses Sparky, but after reading it this idea popped into my head and I need to get it out there.

Could we have a sort of continuation of the 'Sparky reader' fic that takes place towards the finale of the movie? The idea I had is that after Abby helps the animatronics remember that it was William Afton who killed them, the reader actually joins up with the others in confronting him. Additionally, William is shocked because he wasn't expecting the reader to have also possessed an animatronic, let alone that they would have command over the others (he probably thought he was the only one with that kind of power).

👀

The first Sparky!Reader part

........

"Look at you...look at the nasty things that you have become! Look at how small you are! How worthless you are!! You are wretched, rotten little beasts! I MADE YOU!!!"

Even as William shouted angrily at the animatronics, pounding a gloved fist against his chest, he realized how quickly he was losing his ability to keep them in line.

Thanks to that brat showing them the truth in a stupid drawing--which proved that he, the yellow bunny they once trusted, was the cause of all their pain--they didn't obey him anymore.

Now he couldn't control them like he used to.

No longer were they blindly singing and dancing to his tune.

Because they finally remembered what really happened that day.

He then heard another pair of heavy footsteps, and from the darkness emerged a character he had almost entirely forgotten about:

Sparky.

But how was he moving? And why?

William swore that mutt was sitting in the backstage area, deactivated and unable to walk freely.

It was impossible.

Unless....

"Of course..I figured you would have woken up eventually, too." He chuckled weakly, taunting you all. "So what's your plan now? To kill me? Shove me into a suit like you did to those poor people?! Well you can't...because I know how you all think!! I'm smarter than you!!"

"No. You are a fool, Afton. It isn't us who will kill you."

His laughter ceased upon hearing your disembodied voice speaking to him, and he froze for a moment, bewildered by what you had said.

It was extremely unnerving to learn that your ghost could even talk to him at all, considering the other children have been silent.

What made you so special?

Unfortunately for him, he realized far too late what you meant by those words...as he noticed you gesturing to Chica, who sent her Cupcake after him.

It lunged with a growl, biting into the torso of his suit and not letting go.

He grabbed onto it, struggling to tear the feral little bastard off of him, not knowing that would be the last mistake he ever made.

When he finally managed to toss the Cupcake away from him, it took a chunk of the suit's fabric with it, exposing part of the springlock endoskeleton underneath.

And without any material for the mechanisms to stay compressed against...

They snapped, one bar stabbing into his side and sinking deep into his flesh, blood leaking through his shirt almost immediately.

With a gasp of pain, William collapsed to his knees as the springlocks continued to puncture him one by one--with you and the other animatronics simply staring him down, watching him endure the same torment he brought upon each of you.

None of your suits were made from springlocks, of course...but now he, too, will know what it's like to be encased inside a tomb of fabric and metal forever.

He scrambled for the Springbonnie head that laid beside him, only to see your brown paws snatch it off the ground.

You kept his above his head, just barely within his reach.

All he did was stare into your glowing red eyes, shocked at the commanding presence you held over his creations. He had no idea how you got them to follow your lead so easily.

Yet despite knowing that he lost, he refused to lie down and show any sort of fear.

Instead a grin appeared on his sweaty face, each exhaled breath growing more strained than the last.

And before you shoved the Springbonnie head onto him, forever sealing him inside his tomb, he made one final haunting declaration:

"I always come back."

#clanask #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie spoilers #animatronic reader #freddy fazbear #bonnie the bunny #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #springbonnie #william afton

[theplumsoldier]

feels like home

summary: you🥺love🥺each other🥺🥺😩

warnings: vulgar language, smut, breeding kink, angst, fluff (please let me know if im missing anything!!)

a/n: i love him omg hes so dad shaped

Starting out, it was a brewing crush, a sparkle between you and Joel on the job. Getting to know one another, it quickly became playful. Quirky remarks, cocky comments; that kind of thing. You began noticing your heart rate increase rapidly whenever he would speak, his voice suddenly sounding sweet and soothing, the playful shoves became lingering touches.

It was innocent, a subconscious pleasure that made the days do by. It was nice. Until it wasn't. When you realized the feelings they were way too strong for you to comprehend.

The fluttering butterflies no longer tickled, they scraped against your stomach, trying to claw their way out. Your heart rate felt alarmingly fast when in his company, which you quickly found was not good when working. It made you flinch, mistaking the faint clicks of an infected with that of your own pulse.

It resulted in a close call and a fitting rebuke from Joel, calling you out on your actions, or lack thereof.

Joel's harsh words got to you, never having heard him raise his tone at you unless it was call your name. His anger was evident but it was the disappointment seeping through his venom-laced tone that hit you like a brick wall.

Little did you know he did not react like that because of your rookie moves, nor was it because of the fact that you were putting everybody else's lives on the line while being so careless on the job.

No, it was a whole other thing, a feeling that wasn't too far from the one you were haunted by.

Nonetheless, Joel reprimanding you made you be more careful around him, the pining turning into something of a self-conscious degree.

Joel noticed your shy demeanor after that incident. He figured you would understand overtime, understand his harsh words came from a place of worry, of love. But as time passed, and you only talked to him when on the job, when necessary, there came a point where he found himself eager to confront you. He was having none of it.

It wasn't that he was going to tell you that he reacted the way he did because he was in love with you. He was simply going to check in on you, imply that there was something off with you. He substantiated his own idea by concluding it was best for the group to know whether this mien was going to keep up. That way he wouldn't have to reveal his feelings. Joel knew it was not going to be a pleasant conversation, but he just wanted your giddy self back.

He missed the funny comments, the playful touches. He missed making you smile, seeing you laugh. It was what got him through the day and lately he had found himself constantly thinking about you, dragging the days out to a point where he felt one exceeded the usual count of 24 hours.

It was an excruciating pain, feeling you were reluctant whenever he would enter the room, falling silently and making yourself small.

He looked for the right time, postponing the inevitable, to the point where another incident occurred, sending Joel over the edge.

"What the fuck, Y/N!?" barked he, following you into your room, slamming the door behind him.

"What, Joel!? What is it now?" yelled you in frustration, too beat to take anymore of his bullshit, his glares, any of it.

You justed wanted to clean up and go to sleep. It was all too much.

This time had not been much different from the last. Your train of thought had distracted you, leading to Joel saving you. Again.

It was honestly getting embarrassing at this point.

Joel's tongue wet his lips while he opgivende slumped down, taking a seat. He breathed out, calming himself and stretched his arm over the back of the couch.

"You need to get your head out of your ass before you--" said he as his eyes pierced through the back of your head, watching as you had turned your back to him, doing whatever.

"And you need to get off my back," retaliated you, swinging around and pointedly staring at him.

The way he kept his cool just sitting there on the couch while you were getting fed up struck a nerve.

His tone differed from his exterior, however, a judgemental feel to it.

"What's going on with you, huh? These past few weeks you've been reckless out there! Shit, I've already saved your ass twice this week--"

"Fuck you, Joel!" you interrupted, trying your best not to make it sound like a preschool shouting match. Well, you were the only one yelling, so perhaps that was the wrong parallel to draw. Regardless, you gave him a piece of your mind. "You know, I signed the same fucking waiver as you did! If anything happens to me, you take me out. That's the job. I never asked for you to save me so why you take that upon yourself--that's beyond me!"

Joel shook his head, biting back the grin he knew would bite him in the ass if you heard it. It was ridiculous to him, that you thought he would ever let anything happen to you.

Take you out.

He stood up, taking a step closer to you, his brows furrowed in disbelief. "Of course I'm gonna fuckin' jump in when I see ya danger! Jesus Christ, you don't even realize it's 'cause I love you, do ya?"

Oh.

That took you by surprise.

"Tell me you don't feel the same way," said he, watching as your eyes dropped, certainly thinking about what he had just said. Carefully inspecting every clue your features gave away, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you. He tipped your head, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Y/N?"

He felt himself getting nervous like a school boy revealing his crush, fearing he had fooled himself. He couldn't help but worry you hadn't put much thought into the flirting, that perhaps you were simply playing around.

He tried stepping away, to let himself think, but you quickly latched onto his arm, pulling him even closer than he was before.

"No, I..." hesitated you, trying to figure out the best way to put it. "I realized I do really like you. It's why I've been so... off, I guess. You've constantly been on my mind, and--I've been trying to figure out... what to do about it, I guess."

Your eyes were fixated on his chest, right where his shirt was unbuttoned. Your cheeks red, you felt too self-conscious to look him in the eye, fearing what you might find. It seemed no matter how many times you had fallen in love, it never got easier.

But to your surprise, you felt safe when Joel tilted your head and your eyes met. Reassured.

Shit.

The eyes really were the window to the soul, huh?

"And did you figure it out? What you wanna do about it?"

There was a certain glimpse in his eye as he asked. He had decided what he wanted to do.

Instead of replying, you pulled him into you, pressing your thirsty lips against his. It seemed the prior anger had fueled your hunger, suddenly very desperate to have him even closer.

Luckily, Joel did not mind one bit and immediately wrapped his arms around and cradled the back of your head, holding you like you might slip.

And shit the sweet, sweet taste of him made you think you just might.

His scent wrapped around you like a blanket, making you feel safe again, the feeling somehow always emitting from him, only this time tenfold. It reminded you of the sense one got when stepping into the comfort of their home after a long time away. He felt like home.

God, it felt good to be home.

While one hand rested on the back of your neck, the other began sliding down your side, feeling your curves beneath his rough fingertips.

When he steadied and squeezed your waist softly, you tugged lightly on the strands of his hair.

"Joel," whispered you breathlessly, pulling back but not enough to not still feel his breath on yours. You didn't dare let him move further away, fearing you might lose his warm touch and wake from this fever dream.

Joel hungrily bit for your lip, but you had to catch your breath. His lips were parted, tongue dancing just behind his teeth in anticipation as he muttered your name.

"Want you inside of me."

His eyes locked on yours for a second, like a predator picking out his prey, and a second later, he was all over you.

Crashing his lips against yours, he was suddenly both pulling and shoving you, a clumsy waltz in the ecstasy ballroom, determined to take you to bed and claim you as his.

Stumbling onto your bed, you were pinned to the mattress and the sheets delved around you, hugging your sides with Joel's body the perfect cover.

You wrapped your legs around him, urging him to rub his restrained cock against your clothed crotch, moaning at the feeling. Like a goddamn rock.

While making out, he continued the motion and when he finally let go of your wrists, you did not hesitate to slide your hands under his shirt, feeling his warm skin.

"Been thinking 'bout this. Can't ever stop myself from imagining how pretty you'd look, squirmin' on my fingers. Those sweet, sweet eyes begging me to tear into you, make you come around my cock."

You whined at his words.

You hadn't realized you hadn't given his pillow talk much thought. Prior expectations had only let you down, becoming disappointed in men when they didn't live of to the version of the person you had made them out to be in your head. You knew your kinks, and wanted them played out in reality and only then you realized what a match Joel evidently was.

Clawing at his shirt, he helped you pull it over his head as you began undoing his belt.

He stopped you, chuckling at your eagerness although he could barely hold himself together.

Instead he pulled up your shirt, kissing down your stomach and unbuttoned your pants.

"Easy, baby," muttered he. "Gonna make you feel real good."

Upon having removed your clothes, Joel continued his path down your stomach, kissing right under your bellybutton, building up a whole lot of tension inside your core as he continued down.

You felt his hot breath against your pussy, finally looking down and only then did he dive in and you gasped at his greedy tongue. He was hungry and he was not holding back.

His tongue licked a long wet stripe through your glistening folds, his nose and stubble tickling your clit. His hands held you down when you arched into his mouth and you cried his name, needy for his touch.

A chuckle vibrated from his mouth and he teased your entrance with a finger, taking you off guard when he suddenly shoved two in.

"Fff-uck!" You moaned and squirmed, completely spellbound as you felt your self tense up at the slow but consistent pace he had sat.

Considering you had indeed imagined having sex with Joel, you were surprised to find him so eager to take care of you. His now all around careful touch so contradicting to what characterized him on the job. Of course, he had never been rough with you and although you were getting more and more excited to have him fill you, you felt ecstatic experiencing him like this, treating you like delicate Chinese porcelain. You felt loved. An unusual feeling, but a welcome one.

While his fingers worked you up, he spared a look your way, finding you crushing your head into the mattress, eyes squeezed shut. The content look on his face was replaced with a focused one as he sucked your pulsating clit.

The pleads you emitted were far from coherent, only the choked cry giving you away.

"Shit, doll, don't think I'm gonna fit in this lil' pussy. Just two fingers making you all dumb for me," he chuckled, basking in the pleasure he gave you, each moan a stroke to his ego. He was set on ruining every single man for you.

Despite his taunt, he shoved a third finger inside your cunt, the only resistance being your tight walls.

Curling his fingers he stretched you to a point where he was comfortable enough with replacing them with his cock. His balls were beginning to get sore at the lack of breathing room.

The grip you had managed on his locks loosened when you felt him pull away, making you stutter as you opened your eyes again. It took some adjustment before the dots vanished and the figurative stars blinding you were replaced with the sight of his glory.

A broadshouldered, tanned naked hunk of glory. Sweat glistened on his chest, small beads decorated his hairline and his freed cock stood to attention. You hadn't noticed you were gaping at him until your mouth ran dry.

Gulping at his size, you gave him a dazed look that made his cock twitch against his stomach.

Before you had the chance to say anything - whether it be a horny comment or a total subjection to the God towering you - Joel grabbed you by your legs, pulling you down so that he was positioned directly above your entrance.

Although your juices provided more than enough lubrication, you noticed his cock had done the same, a small bead having escaped his slit. A sudden urge to taste him, you quickly reached down to swipe your thumb across his mushroom head, indulging in the salty taste.

The move made Joel groan although you could've sworn it was a whimper in disguise, a certain lovesick gleam in his brown eyes.

Crushing a kiss to your lips, he aligned himself at your entrance. As he inched in, Joel's forehead pressed against yours, his eyes focused on every change in your expression.

Your brows were knitted together in concentration, lips parted in a gasp and doe eyes glistened up at him through a watery lense.

Sliding in with easy, Joel stilled, quieting your moan with an open-mouthed kiss. He felt his cock stretch you, your walls hugging him tightly making him think you were made for him.

Your nails scratched against his back as he moved and you let out a cry, throwing your head back. It was both too much and not enough. Insatiable.

"Taking me so good, darlin'. Not gonna last long in your lil' cunt."

Joel slid a hand between your bodies, thumb suddenly drawing sloppy but aggressive circles on your clit. When he had first found a rhythm his hips did not stutter.

The mix of wet slapping sounds and chopped moans composing your lovestory. With his snapping hips and relentless work on your bundle of nerves, you felt yourself flutter against him, nails digging into his ass as he fucked you through orgasm.

Disjointed grunts echoed in his chest, revelling as your cunt squeezed his cock, pushing him out each time only to let him ram right back in.

Head nuzzled in your neck, kissing, nibbling and biting, he moved only to haul your legs over his shoulder. To enforce the deep feeling, he grasped your hand and put it just below your belly, pressing down.

"Ya feel that, doll? Rippin' you right open--fuck! Wan' me t'fill you up, uh?"

He tore you right apart, his cock ramming into you so hard you just knew you would be sore. But it didn't matter. He was worth it. This was worth it.

A slap to your cheek suddenly pulled you from cloud nine, his coarse hand roughly grasping you by the jaw.

"Tell me," murmured he, his jaw clenched, eyes locked on yours.

"Y-yes, Joel! Please, please!" Melting in his grip, you eagerly nodded, your words disjointed by your cries from feeling him so deep. "Need your cum, ba--"

Your plea was cut off by a muffled scream as all and any kindness left him, and he sped up for a brutal pace. Biting his shoulder, his hips snapped a few more times until he stilled deep inside you.

You tugged him close to you as pumps coated your walls, hot streams already oozing out. Panting, Joel sloppily fucked his come into you, wet kisses smudging across your collarbone. As you felt yourself come down, you reached for his face and kissed him breathless.

Finally he slumped off of you, falling into the place beside you, making you realize the brutal cramp in your legs from the position. Stretching your leg in the air, pulling your toes with your fingers you couldn't help but laugh when Joel noticed your situation.

"M'sorry," Joel chuckled awkwardly, the back of his hand running across his sweaty forehead.

You just shook your head, schooching closer to him to wrap your leg over his and you smiled lovingly up at him, adoring him.

"Don't worry, didn't even realize 'till you pulled out."

He wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him, two sweaty bodies melting into one.

"Well shit, next time I ain't gon' be pullin' out then. Gonna fall asleep inside ya."

Nibbling his earlobe, you hummed and closed your eyes with giddy smile. "As long as you fuck me into the morning you can do whatever ya want."

#joel miller imagine #theplumsoldier #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #the last of us smut #the last of us imagine #the last of us

[cow-smells]

Decisions | you chose: Vinsmoke Sanji x reader

Summary: After a misunderstanding makes the crew think you and Zoro are sleeping together, you're forced to confront the man you have feeling towards in order to make things right.

Word count: 890

Warnings: slightly suggestive at most

BEFORE reading this, make sure you read the prequel (Zoro's ending here)

Read on AO3

Instinctively, your hands came up to grip Sanji’s arms that were wrapped tightly around your shoulder line. Your head tilted up to look at the man towering over you, and from the corner of your eye you could see Zoro practically deflate.

Sanji’s expression softened as you looked up at him – he had his answer.

Sanji’s hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, making you turn to him thoughtlessly. You felt as though you were on autopilot and yet, simultaneously hyper aware of his every feature, of the way he was looking at you as though drinking you in. The simplest brush of his fingertips on your cheekbone sent a wave of heat through you.

He had such tenderness in his voice as he said, “Y/n… You’re the one for me. Since the day you boarded this ship, you’ve been the apple of my eye, the light of my life, the fire of  my -”

            “Hey,” Nami interjected, the tone of her voice a clear warning. Sanji’s lips pressed in to a smile, unbothered by the disruption. His large hands held your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as though you were the most precious thing he ever had the privilege of meeting.

            “I’m so in love with you,” Sanji continued, “that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

            “You could start by kissing me,” you suggested, a shy smile on your lips.

            “I’ll remind you two that you’re in the kitchen, it’s eight AM and there are other people in the room.” Nami interjected once more – and truthfully, you couldn’t blame her. You were so caught up in the moment you had forgotten about anyone and anything else. Being suddenly pulled out of your haze, you looked at your crewmates – Luffy and Usopp were watching you and Sanji like a telenovela was unraveling before them. Zoro was gone – he must have left the room without you noticing. You were sad to hurt him, but your feelings for Sanji were undeniable.

            “Come, my love,” Sanji took your hand and took to leading you out of the kitchen. “let’s continue this somewhere more private.” Luffy and Usopp cheered and whistled at that (you thought you could hear Nami sigh in between) – heat rushed to your cheeks as you thought of the implications that must have come to their minds.

You felt like a kid, giggling excitedly as the man you loved guided you to the boys’ room (you were silently grateful Zoro took the spare room for himself). Sanji guided you in to the room before following, shutting the door behind himself. Before you could take it all in his lips were already on yours – he had descended upon you with all the urgency he had felt for so long. He had one hand in your hair, holding you in place, almost scared to let you go – the other hand caressing the side of your body, struggling to decide where exactly he wanted to touch, after having dreamt of this moment for so long.

You couldn’t believe this was finally happening – and it was even better than you imagined. Sanji’s lips meshed perfectly against yours, the perfect combination of passionate and hot but still delicate and caring. You thread an arm behind his neck, holding him closely to you. Sanji took that as the go-ahead to take hold of your waist and press you against him, reveling in your warmth, in the softness of your body; you surely couldn’t complain, as you enjoyed feeling the hardness of his muscular chest, the outline of his figure… things you hadn’t felt before.

After a while, you had no choice but to break apart to breath; a need that Sanji didn’t seem to have, because the moment you broke the kiss he seized the opportunity to kiss down your neck, biting lightly until he found your sweet spot. He knew he found the spot because you couldn’t contain your moan. That only edged Sanji on to bite harder, needing to leave his mark on you; you were driving him insane, and you had only just began.

Sanji’s grip on your waist gradually became so strong it would bruise, but you were enjoying it all too much to notice. It was only when you noticed his nimble fingers undoing your shirt buttons – just as you heard Usopp laugh not too far away – that you came to your senses. The crew must have finished eating, and soon your privacy would be gone.

            “Wait,” you took a step back from Sanji. He stopped his assault on your neck, but he couldn’t contain the kicked-puppy expression he had at the loss of you. “we should cool it. For now. With everyone around, and all…”

Sanji cleared his throat, straightening his jacket and stepping closer to you to rebutton your shirt. “Right. You’re right. For now.” With the last words he looked in to your eyes, making sure you knew you would be continuing these activities at a later point. Sanji flattened your shirt, but you were half sure it was just a guise to touch you some more before you had to part. Finally, his hand came to your neck, fingertips lightly caressing the spot he bit hard – where there surely was a frightening bruise forming. “At least now you know you’re mine.”

-

tags: @gardens-light @yeonieesss

#vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #one piece sanji fanfic #sanji fanfic #one piece sanji #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece live action #opla!sanji x reader #sanji x reader #opla!sanji fanfic

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Birthday Buddies - Max Verstappen

<word count - 3009>

"OK Maxie, here you go," you said, handing him the envelope with his name scrawled on the front. "Thank you, my love," he smiled, running his fingers under the flap to open it. He eyed you suspiciously as he didn't see a card in the envelope, instead seeing a folded piece of paper. 

Unfolding it, he saw the words written on the page. 'Max, as you know, today is your birthday! You're 26, and have already achieved so much, and I am so proud of you! To find your gift, you have to use your brain a bit... So, your first clue is the place we went on our first date,'

"Making me use my brain... Honestly, my love?" he sighed.

"Yes, now, take me to where we had our first date," you smugly smirked. Max figured he may as well play along. You had planned it all out, and he already knew you had put a lot of effort into it. Plus, it was your birthday too, so he had to listen to you just as much as you listened to him. 

"OK, OK, follow me," Max smiled, taking your hand and leading you out of your apartment. He took you through the winding streets of Monaco, the sun slowly setting over the city. You arrived outside of a small cafe that he took you to, because it was out of the way of the world and you could get to know each other, without the prying eyes of the world on you. 

"Good job Max, you have unlocked the next clue!" You smiled, handing him another, identical envelope as he opened it. "So you could just let me skip straight to the end, but you're choosing not to?" 

"Where's the fun in that? I thought it would be fun to take a trip down memory lane," you said, the both of you remembering the magic that was your first night out. Max thought it was a nice idea, since you had done a lot together since you had started going out, and these were definitely some of his favourites. 

He thought he had blown it after your first date, since he was a stuttering, babbling mess due to how much he liked you. He could barely hold a conversation without being gobsmacked that you were there with him. 

He just couldn't get over how much he liked you, but he thought he had ruined any chances with you. Little did he know, you found it endearing how nervous he was. "Yeah, I guess it is fun," he nodded, unfolding the next piece of paper. 

'Well done, but you're not quite near the finish line yet. Next spot: Where did we have our first kiss?' he read outloud. "You really have to make this a bit harder, these are too easy," he shook his head, taking your hand again. 

It wasn't too far away from the cafe, and it was out on the marina. Some of the boats had their lights on, and the buildings behind you were also lighting up. "You're not in the right spot, hang on," he said, placing his hands on the sides of your arms and shifting you so you were stood by the exact palm tree on the marina yacht club walk. 

"There, we are in the perfect spot," he said, standing in front of you. He remembered gazing at you as you looked out on all of the boats, your eyes glittering under the marina lights. You were entranced by the way the sea sparkled, and how the boats gently bobbed on the surface of the water. 

There was no resisting the urge to kiss you when you noticed him staring, and it was the best decision he had ever made. He drowned in the feeling of holding you close, getting to have his lips against yours. It was like sparks flew whenever he touched you. 

"Yes we are, meaning you get the next clue," you smiled, the memories making you feel drunk with happiness. "OK, this is kind of a two in one," you told him, fishing the next envelope out of your bag. 

'You can't have possibly forgotten this one, because I know I can't, and I don't think you'll ever let me! Take me to the first place that you told me you love me...' he read, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Oh I will never forget this one," he smiled, grabbing your arm.

You were almost reluctant to put this as a clue, since it was a bittersweet memory. Max had taken you to the most beautiful restaurant you had ever seen, and it was still one you frequented now. 

Then, he had taken you on a short walk around the streets of Monaco, before stopping you at a bench by the sea. He was so nervous, since he was about to tell you his feelings. You, on the other hand, were nervous because you were sure you were going to throw up. 

You had felt off all day, but you weren't going to cancel on Max, so you just grinned and bore it. But now, your actions were proving to have consequences. As Max stopped you by the bench, you remembered every little detail of the events that unfolded.

He sat you down, just like he did two years ago, and took your hands. As the both of you thought back to that night, it was as if it were yesterday. Max looked beyond nervous as he looked at you, terrified you weren't going to feel the same way.

Current Max started to stutter, reenacting the moment. "So, Y/N, I... Uhm-" he fumbled, jittering around just like he did. "I love you," he blurted out, and you could have sworn you were back there. "I-" you started, before turning around and pretending to wretch into the bin behind you. 

In the memory, Max didn't care that he could have just ruined everything and simultaneously embarrassed himself, he just cared that you were OK. He rushed to your side, before sitting you back down. 

Now, he said the exact same line he had said, "Me saying I love you wasn't that bad, was it?" he said, and it caused a smile to form on your face both times. "I do love you Max, I just feel awful," you said, leaning into him like you always did.

"That was a weird night," he smiled.

"It was. I was surprised you still loved me after that one, it was the worst timing possible," you laughed, looking at his dazzling smile. "I couldn't fall out of love with you for something so small, I was just relieved you felt the same, my love," he said, waiting for the next clue.

"Next up, the penultimate clue," you said, handing him the final of the normal envelopes for the night. 'Since it's your birthday, it wouldn't be a birthday treasure hunt without sending you to the place where we found out we have the same birthday!' 

"This has been the easiest treasure hunt I have ever been on," he smirked, walking off and expecting you to follow him. You had picked all the spots quite close together, so that you wouldn't have to walk too far. 

"OK, here we are," he said, just stopping in the middle of the street. It had simply come up in conversation when you were walking and talking, and the two of you were both shocked, but also excited. 

Ever since, you both went all out to have the best day the both of you could ask for. "Any reason you sent us here or?" he asked, rocking back and forth on the spot. 

"No, I just thought it was relevant," you shrugged, producing the final envelope of the excursion. "This one might be harder for you, but I don't know," you told him, handing him the golden object. 'Finally, take me to the place where I first fell in love with you,' it said.

Max looked confused, and you could see the cogs turning in his mind. "I would have remembered if you had told me where this was," he said, not moving from the spot as he thought. 

"Would you like a lifeline? You can phone a friend, take the bonus clue, or have me point you in the right direction," you told him. 

"I'll take the bonus clue," he decided, waiting for whatever it was going to be. 

"You have selected: 'Y/N's Bonus Clue!'" you enthusiastically said, revealing a blue envelope with a big, orange question mark adorning the front.  "Thank you, my love," he smiled, opening the envelope and looking more confused. 

'We've already been here today...' he read to you, taking a moment to think. It could have been any of them, really, but he went for the one he thought would be most likely. "OK, follow me," he skeptically said, taking you back to the marina yacht club walk, next to the palm tree where you had shared your first kiss. 

"Unfortunately, that is the first one you have gotten wrong today. You can still use one of your life lines, those being phone a friend or have me point you in the right direction," you told him, glad you hadn't made it too easy on him. "I'll phone a friend," he said.

"Alright then, phone a friend it is," you said, pulling your phone out of your bag and dialing a mystery number. Well, it was a known number, but you had changed the contact name to mystery number. "I thought it was phone a friend?" he said, taking the phone from you. 

"It is," you nodded as if it were obvious, the mystery person picking up on the other end of the line. "Hi, this is Max, I'm doing Y/N's treasure hunt, and I'm stuck on the last clue. I've been told you might be able to help me?" he asked, feeling positively ridiculous. 

"Hi, yes I can," the person tried not to burst out laughing, "You need to take her to the place where you first figured out she was the person you wanted to spend your life with," he laughed, remembering when Max had told him that. He had found it unbelievably cheesy, yet sweet at the same time. 

"OK, thank you Lan- I mean mystery person, I appreciate it," Max giggled, now knowing where to take you. "Right, off we go," he said, leading you to the final destination. He was hoping the mystery person wasn't wrong, because that would be embarrassing. 

"Here we are," he hummed, stopping you back outside the cafe that was your first place. "I think the mystery caller sent me to the wrong place," he sheepishly said, rubbing the back of his neck. Surely you hadn't loved him since your first date, right?

"No, you're at the right spot," you reassured, letting him figure it all out in his head. "What was the clue, Max?" you prompted. 

"The place you first fell in love with me," he recited, the pieces still not fitting together in his mind. "And where are we?"

"The place we had our first date?" he said, and it sounded more like a question due to his unsurity. "Exactly, because I've always loved you. Even if I couldn't put a name to how I felt back then, now I know it was just because I had never loved anyone as much as I love you," you smiled.

"Thank you, my love, that was beautiful," he smiled, trying to contain tears at how much your words had touched him. "As for your gift, it's back at home," you said, and nothing happened. "I said, as for your gift, it's back at home!" you shouted, craning your neck so your voice would carry further around the corner. 

A man appeared from around the corner, a hood pulled up over his eyes. He dropped something by your feet, and you picked it up. "Sorry, excuse me, you dropped this," you said, but the man kept on walking. "Well isn't that strange," you said, handing him the black, leather book that the man had dropped. 

"It is, isn't it?" Max joined in, catching onto the act. He ran opened the cover, immediately realising what this was. It was a photo album, with all the pictures you had taken at those spots you had sent him to today, as well as others from other good times.

He ran his fingers over your features, noting how you hadn't changed at all in the two years you had been together. "There's not much you can do for a man who has it all," you smiled, hoping he liked it. "You're right, I do have it all, I have you," he said, cringing at himself internally.

However, you couldn't hide the goofy smile and blush that tinted your cheeks. "But this is the best gift you could have gotten me besides yourself," he said, flicking through the pages upon pages of memories, forever recorded through colour. 

"I'm glad you like it," you grinned. 

"Now come on, birthday girl, let's get you home," he smiled, tucking the album underneath his arm, looping the other around your waist as he lead you home. When you got to the door of your apartment, you noticed it was open. 

"I swore I locked this when we left..." You said, worried. You didn't want your birthdays to be ruined by someone breaking into your home. "Yeah, you did," he reassured, but he was awful at hiding the smirk on his face. 

Pushing the door open, you saw that the room was lit up in nothing but candles, and relaxing spa music was playing. "I didn't take you to a single spa while we've been globe trotting, so I thought the least you deserved was the at home Spa de Max," he explained, pushing you through the door. 

"Well I already think Spa de Max is better than any spa you could take me anywhere else," you told him, walking into the apartment. "I hope to live up to your expectations, so, go put this on, and your masseuse will be with you when you are ready," he said, handing you a fluffy white robe - just like in a spa. 

"OK," you zealously nodded, excited for what Max had in store. You did just as he had said, changing out of your clothes and into the robe. When you got back out to the living room, you saw the dining room table in the middle of the room, with what looked to be a mattress topper on top.

"Trust me on this, it is actually very comfy," Max said, standing beside the table. "On you get," he told you, and you clambered onto the table. "May I?" he said, slipping his hands into the robe by your shoulders. "Yeah, course," you agreed, letting him slip the soft fabric off your shoulders, and leaving the rest handing on you hips. 

"Lie on your front for me, my love," he said, as you maneuvered onto your front, resting your head on your arms. "Now just close your eyes, and relax," he instructed. Max dabbed some essential oils on his hands, before running them over the span of your back.

As he worked his hands into your muscles, you were trying not to fall asleep. "How did you know we'd be going out?" you asked, wondering how he had managed to sneak someone in to set the house up.

"Because your little helper is also my little helper. He told me we'd be leaving, so I sent him to set all of this up. But, don't worry, he didn't tell me a single detail about what we'd be doing," he reassured you, knowing you wouldn't want the surprise to be ruined.

"Our helper has been a busy boy," you slurred, trying to keep yourself awake by talking. 

"Aww my love, are you tired?" he teased, moving his hands up your neck and across your shoulders. "This is just so nice," you mumbled against your arms.

"Don't fall asleep just yet, you still have a few more experiences in Spa de Max," he said, his hands ceasing their movements. "That'll be hard to beat," you said, sitting up on the table. "Fine, I'll take that as a challenge," he smiled, 

When you stood off the table, Max pulled your robe back up and over your shoulders, tying the belt back up to keep you warm. "Tonight is finally the night I will allow you to put a face mask on me," he said, pushing you onto the couch and sitting next to you. 

"Really?!" You asked, gobsmacked. For some reason, Max had plainly refused to put on a face mask whenever you did, but now was your opportunity. "Yes, anything for the birthday girl," he smiled, even if it was his birthday too. The best gift for him was seeing you happy, after all. 

You tugged your headband out of your hair, slotting it onto his head as his blonde strands were pushed back out of his face. On the coffee table, Max had differents pots of face masks with pre-sliced cucumbers to choose from. "Which one?" he asked.

"I'll go for blue," you nodded as he picked up the blue pot, unscrewing the lid. Max just dipped his fingers in, practically slapping the thick substance onto your face. He slathered it around until he thought he had covered enough of the area. 

"Max, you have put it on so thickly, it'll never dry," you whined, seeing half the container was gone, meaning half was on your face. "Just means you'll be extra refreshed," he smiled, picking up the green pot and handing it to you.

You did the exact same to him, slathering more than two thirds of it onto his face, before trying to put the cucumber slices on his eyes. Before you could, he pulled you in for an affectionate kiss. "Happy birthday, my love," he smiled, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

"Happy birthday to you too, Max, I love you," 

A/N - Happy birthday to Maxie! And to me so I guess that's fun... Have a great day!

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