#I wonder how long until I'll be able to tell a story every day that's more exciting than the fact that my scar is bothering me

[oediex]

My scar is itchy. Has been for a couple of months. It's frustrating because it is on my back, which means that if I'm sitting on the couch and it itches, I have to bend forward in order to be able to rub it. The itch is resolved, but pain replaces it.

When I told my GP she asked me to remind her how long ago my back surgery was. I'm just shy of two years. "Ah," she said, "scars can still change up to two years after."

Excuse me? Change?

[lis-likes-fics]

Caught Up

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word Count: 3.2k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, fingering, swearing, Spencer being way to sweet for anyone's own good... A/N: I've had a major writer's block since the beginning of November and this is literally the only thing I've been able to write so I hope you enjoy this bite-size fic. Hopefully, I'll be back in my groove soon and I'll be able to write more again. Until then, thank you and happy holidays!

Your relationship with Spencer had caught the both of you by surprise.

You met at a bar. You were solemnly eating peanuts as you traced the lip of your first glass of a vodka cranberry, sipping slowly and hardly even touched. Spencer was out with Penelope, Derek, and Emily, who'd found time for a drink after a busy work day.

You hadn't intended to go home with anyone that night. You were bored and a little lonely, trying to find a way to pass the night that wasn't you cooped up in your apartment watching movies in bed.

Spencer had seen you there, sitting alone and looking far too pretty for anyone's good. Derek had to shove him just to get him to go talk to you—he'd been staring long enough that it's a wonder you hadn't noticed.

When Spencer came up to you, you took one look at his pretty face and your night was already improving immensely. He was so unbelievably beautiful—sharp-jawed, long-haired, with eyes of caramel and a smile as bright as the sun. He talked your ear off about things you knew nothing about and nearly stuttered every time you tilted your head while he spoke. He kept apologizing for ranting, to which you kept telling him that listening to him speak was the only thing you wanted to do (he'd get all flustered and fall into another bout about prions or how humans bred dogs to bark).

He was endearing and lovely and kept telling you that you were so beautiful, and you were immediately taken with him. You stared at him like he was the one who created the stars in the sky.

So you took him home that night—which had also come as a surprise.

You honestly hadn't meant for it to happen. You invited him over for a cup or coffee (the bar would close soon, you'd talked for that long), and in the middle of one of his rants, you kissed him. It would have just been a kiss, but Spencer Reid kisses like you're air itself and he's been suffocated for years. You found your way into his lap, and the next thing you knew, he was laying you on your bed and kissing you and touching you and making you feel like the most special girl on Earth.

The first time was full of care. He was kind, he checked up on you at every turn, he used soft lips and softer hands. He held you close during every embrace and backed every touch with another kiss just to make sure you were perfectly comfortable. When you woke the next morning, he kissed you again and greeted you with coffee. (He'd profiled you based on your coffee cabinet and managed to make it to perfection.)

You would spend that day wrapped up in him, listening to him speak and telling him your life story like you were a book and he was your first reader (too eager to be known that you share every single detail you have to give just so you can be held a little longer in someone's hands). It's important to note that his speedy words and listening ears were not the only thing to embrace you that day.

He treated you well, and you treated him just as well. He made you laugh, he made you smile, he made you feel safe and happy.

Through the time you've been together, Spencer has come to learn a lot about you. You don't like eating with big spoons. You have an analog clock because you love the way it looks (you don't really use it), and the ticking drives you crazy at night but you refuse to switch to digital. You love to bake but you still haven't managed to perfect a cake from scratch (which drives you insane because you really can bake, you swear!).

But one of the things Spencer learned quickly is that you have a very high sex drive. You told him that, for a while, you thought you were a nymphomaniac. Then he described the full psychology of a nymphomaniac, and you decided that it may have been a bit of an exaggeration.

Either way, he was very happy to satiate your needs. At first, it was difficult to spend time together without falling into bed. And it's not like you didn't try! But the more he looked at you and the more he spoke and the more he told you how pretty you looked, the harder it was to keep from jumping his bones. He had a similar experience with you.

He was no sex god like he assumed Morgan to be, but the more he indulged, the harder it was not to think about getting to hold you, to kiss you, to taste you. He found immense pleasure in your pleasure. He once burned his hand at work pouring himself a cup of coffee because he got distracted thinking about something as simple as holding your hand or kissing your lips, which led to worse and worse until he found himself lucky the coffee wasn't freshly brewed.

It was hard to deny the other. You couldn't even say no when he asked you to hold his hand while you walked down a street, how were you supposed to say no when he got on his knees and looked up at you like you were the moon? How was he supposed to say no when you looked at when you ran your fingers through his curls and kissed the spot behind his ear?

Even now, it's an accident. He's looping his tie in front of the big mirror hanging from your closet door, trying to get ready for work. He catches your reflection, laying across the bed in sleep shorts and a dainty tee, a pillow clutched in your arms beneath you as you watched him. You don't say anything, you don't move, you just look at him as he gets ready. And he thinks, How am I supposed to leave when she looks like that?

“Spencer?” You murmur after a bit, watching him card his fingers through his hair.

“Yes, angel?” He says it with all the sweetness of a kiss and all the familiarity of your name.

You smile at him, holding your hand out for him. He melts like butter, stepping toward you to take your fingers in the palm of his hand. He squeezes twice. “What?” he whispers without cruelty, without urgency, a simple question to know what you're thinking.

You shrug. “Nothing,” you mumble. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

His smile alone could make you cry. He bends down onto his knees, his elbows on the bed as he reaches for you. The pad of his fingers finds your temples, sliding gently into your hair until he's cradling your head like a basketball. He brings you forward, kisses your lips with the softest touch.

Your smile curves against his lips. You scoot forward enough to relieve some of the strain of reaching, tilting your head so your noses slide with each up and down of your heads. Your hands come to hold his wrists, gentle fingertips caressing the skin like you're testing the smoothness of marble.

When you break away, it's because a soft laugh erupts from his throat. You pull back in slight surprise, your brows furrowed in question as you chuckle lightly. “What?” you breathe.

He shakes his head, his fingers finding your cheeks. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I just don't know how I got so lucky…”

You can't handle it when he says stuff like that. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest, you think you'll have to go to the hospital. Whatever patterns it's taken up can definitely be described as irregular, and you're going to have heart disease.

“I'm the lucky one,” you try to say.

But he shakes his head again. “Trust me, it's me.”

You're the one who shakes her head next, kissing him again with your hands cradling his neck. “You're so perfect,” you mutter between kisses.

Spencer's hand covers your mouth. It's nothing cruel, just his fingers curling gently over your lips as an uncontrollable smile takes over his. “Stop,” he chuckles, though his voice is dripping with regret. “We can't.”

You move his hand down. “We're just kissing.”

He rubs the tip of his nose into your cheek, inhaling your scent before pulling away reluctantly. “We have a pattern.” He takes both your hands in his, stroking the back of your palms with his thumb. “Every time you kiss me with your hands on my neck, we have sex.”

You giggle, and it's the sweetest thing. “Not every time,” you smile.

He kisses you quickly, like a millisecond longer would lead to more than just kissing. “Eight times out of ten.” He looks at your face, sighing gently and feeling a pang in his chest knowing that he has to leave you soon. He can't be late again this week.

He paints a line down your cheek with his knuckles. “Do you want to come over tonight?” He pinches your chin gently. “Or I could come over and bring takeout?”

You caress his cheekbones with your nails, tracing the blush in his skin. “I'll bring you takeout tonight.”

He smiles. “You sure? I can get it.”

Your laughter is so comfortable, it sounds more like a giggle. “So can I. Let me spoil you.” You kiss him again.

He sighs, the sound fond in and of itself. “Okay.” Spencer stands to his feet, holding his hand out to you. “Give me a proper hug, angel.” It sounds more hopeful than it does demanding.

You stand on the edge of the bed, towering over him as you wrap your arms around his head. He holds you tight, laying his head on your chest and inhaling your scent. You stay there for a while, holding the other like it's the last time you'll ever hold each other.

You cradle his neck again, kissing him with a gentle sigh. His head tilts backward to give you the space, grabbing your waist as his thumbs trace your skin the same way your thumbs trace his cheeks. The more you try to break away, the deeper you make the kiss. His hands are so warm, and his lips are so soft. You'd be remiss if you didn't bask in him.

Spencer's lips slide off your own to kiss the corner of them, brushing against your jawline as you lift your chin to let him. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, a little whine. “I really need to go…”

You chuckle lightly, your breath thin the more he kisses your neck. “Go,” you sigh, the word quiet and half-heartedly, though not intended to be. “I'll see you tonight…”

His hands tighten on your waist, dipping beneath your shirt so he can feel your soft skin in his palms. He makes that sound again, dipping his head slightly to press open-mouthed kisses to your chest. Your lips part, shallow breaths passing through them as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

He pulls you closer to him, one arm around your back as the other bends your knee. Your legs wrap around his waist, and he holds you up with strong arms. “I have to go now,” he mumbles between heated kisses.

You nod, making no move to unravel from him. “I know.” A kiss. “Have a good day, honey.”

He bends down, laying you on the bed and ducking his hand beneath your shirt. His palm gropes your breast, his thumb tweaks your nipple. You gasp against his lips.

His free hand grabs at your waist. He kneads it in his palm, he presses his fingers into your skin. He brushes his knuckles over your flesh and smiles when you shudder. “Feel good?” he whispers.

You nod, carding your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “Yeah. Really good.”

“Good,” he kisses your neck. His hand sinks lower, his finger hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “This okay?”

Your nod is quicker this time, more enthused. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please.”

Spencer pulls your shorts down your legs, helping you take them off without once ever pulling away from you. He strokes your newly exposed skin, humming deep in his throat at the feeling of it. You hike your knee higher up his side, opening yourself up for him.

His hand dips between your legs, fingers curling around the inside of your thigh. He strokes a short line up and down.

A tiny curse slips past your lips. “Can you touch me, Spence? Just a little?”

He whines again, heavier breaths puffing from parted lips. “I want to,” he says. “But I have work, and–” He interrupts himself, leaning down to capture your lips.

When he pulls back, you're nodding. “Y-Yeah. Go, baby. Go work and then… then when you get back–”

He pushes a long, slender finger inside of you. Your breath hitches, your lips pressing messily together. You feel the slightest shake of his head, his nose bumping yours. A second finger joins the first, splitting you open as a moan spills past your lips. A tiny smile spreads his mouth.

You tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, your hips lifting toward his hand when he thrusts his fingers gently in and out of you. “Ah, fuck, Spence.”

His mouth latches onto your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his teeth lightly grazing as his tongue darts out to taste it. Your hand tightens a bit to take a fistful of his hair. You don't yank his hair, but you can hear the tiny grunts that come out of him at the light tugs at his scalp.

His fingers curl inside you, pumping deep and slow and building up the more you gasp around him. “Does this feel good?” he asks breathlessly into the skin of your neck.

You nod, clenching around his fingers as your eyes squeeze shut. “Yes, baby. Please don't stop,” you sigh with each in and out of his fingers. The deep strokes are warm and inviting, like shining a light through your fingers to see it glow. You roll your hips to meet the movements of his hand, and reward his intoxicating thrusts with short gasps.

He presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, and you feel yourself giving in. His lips and teeth and tongue trace your collarbone, and you know he'll leave you today with a wonderful mark just below it to remind you of him (although he'll apologize and ask you if he hurt you when he sees it, then he'll kiss it better, which will lead to this all over again).

His fingers stroke deep inside you, curling and pumping and pulling your release closer and closer. He's coaxing it out of you with the kindness of beckoning a scared animal. He loves on your skin and whispers how wonderful you are and makes it more and more impossible for you to let him go all day long.

You wish you could spend forever wrapped up in bed with him. You don't even have to do anything. You would be completely and utterly content laying against him and talking, or letting him talk, or sitting in silence and simply enjoying his company.

A knot is building in your belly—one that you've become quite accustomed to feeling these past few weeks. The tighter it wounds, the deeper you breathe as you arch your chest into his mouth. He continues to embrace you, whispering, “That's it, angel. Just breathe. I've got you, I promise. I'm right here. Let go for me.” He coos your name like it's the sweetest thing in the world and smiles when you coo his back.

Your hands cradle his head as the knot snaps and sends a wave of pleasure over your body, taking you under and letting you breathe in the ecstasy. It's not explosive by any means, but it's warm and comforting and covers you in goosebumps as you card your fingers through his hair and pet him and hold him as close as you can as he continues to kiss and coo and curl.

Your breath shudders and shakes with the rest of your body, interrupted only by whimpers and the humming of his name on your lips.

Spencer pulls his fingers from the wet warmth between your thighs and kisses you with all the intimacy of your orgasm. You sigh into his lips and let yourself be taken by his consuming care.

“You're so perfect,” he whispers into your lips, kissing you in short pecks over and over and over again like he just can't get enough of you. “You know that? I used to believe that it is statistically and theoretically impossible for a human being to be perfect, but then you come along and destroy any idea of it that I've ever had.”

You both laugh, happy breaths in each other's spaces as you indulge in the other between more drunken kisses. “Guess that's why you call me angel.”

His smile rivals the sun. You don't think you can stare at him much longer, but you also don't think you could ever forgive yourself if you looked away.

“You are my angel,” he says, another kiss. Then a sigh of regret and, quite frankly, remorse pushes out from his chest. “And I have to go to work now. Hotch will be furious that I'm late again.”

You kiss him again, keeping it short. “Sorry for keeping you, doctor.”

He laughs. He's full of laughs when he's with you. “I don't regret it one bit.”

You help him tidy up once more so that he looks presentable again. You smooth out his clothes, comb your fingers through his hair, and kiss his cheek to avoid getting distracted again. You walk him to your door, arms around backs and tucked into the other.

He opens the door and turns back to you, picking up your hands in his and squeezing them gently. “I'll see you tonight?” His eyes sparkle with all the hope in the world. He's going to give you irregular heartbeats. You're going to get sick and die.

“Of course, handsome.” You lean up on your toes, hands on his chest as you peck his lips. It's short and sweet, he doesn't even have time to close his eyes. Yet when you sit back on your feet, his eyes are closed.

He smiles, lingering for a moment. He looks at you. “You didn't touch my neck.”

You chuckle lightly, patting his chest. “Well…we have a pattern.” You pull his bag back up his arm, resting it on his shoulder. “I'll see you tonight, Spence.”

He cradles your elbows, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin. “Bye, angel.” He gives you a dangerous kiss to your lips, and then he's gone.

You're left watching him walk down the hall, leaning on your door frame and smiling after him like some lovesick fool. To be fair, you are a lovesick fool. After all, your heart’s doing flips. You should schedule a doctor's appointment.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 @hits-different-cause-its-you Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake @imgonnaslurpu Tag yourself here...

[mistymisfit]

first off, I absolutely adore your writing!! It’s got me kicking my feet and giggling.

Can I please request a domestic Dick x reader where they’re having an at home date night (like watching a movie, doing face masks, cooking together - any of those kinda things) and it keeps getting interrupted by Dicks siblings?

thank youuuuu <3 and sorry this took too long (and if the ending feels rushed), hope you like it

warnings: no plot just fluff and batfamily cameos, established relationship, a few dirty jokes, suggestive content, Tim getting traumatized.

wc: 2,2k

You smile to yourself, finally you get to have a normal night with you boyfriend. He's staying at home, having a date night at home, ah the wonders of a dislocated shoulder. His injury would only put him out of action for a couple of weeks since it wasn't that bad, but you would still try to enjoy the time you get with him--even if hes puffing and huffing in annoyance. He's been a vigilante since he was 12 and he doesn't know anything else, so he's especially reluctant to accept the time off. Lucky for him, he's quickly convinced when you tell him how much he deserves a break and that you'll take care of him until he feels better.

"Here, just make sure it doesn't burn" You signal, putting the spoon on his good hand and letting him take care of the sauce.

"Sure" His eyes follow you as you move around his --not so big-- apartment kitchen. You wore one of his t-shirts, why he owned merch of himself was beside you but you couldn't ignore the smile that appeared on his face every time you wore it."So what are the plans for tonight?"

"We're having dinner, then we'll do some face masks," you list off "we could bake brownies if you're up for dessert, and there's this new movie I want to watch"

"Of course I'm up for dessert" He jokes, catching your arm when you step closer to him.

He has a devilish grin when he kisses you, forgetting he was supposed to be cooking dinner with you. You let him distract you, but not before your hand quietly lowers the stove to minimum heat behind him. The spoon falls, left behind as he walks you until you're trapped between the kitchen counter and him. The hand that's not caught in the arm sling cups your face, getting more demanding with the kiss. You sit on the kitchen counter before he asks and he nods, grateful. You're not sure he could lift you up with one arm, even if he's proven the past few days he didn't need both of them to manhandle you as he usually does. The perks of training your entire life.

There's a noise outside the window right when you wrap your legs around him. At first, you both ignore it, but as it repeats again and again, you realize it was not a random noise but someone knocking. There's not that many people who would be able to knock on an eighth story window.

"I'll go," He sighs, reluctantly letting go of you.

You nod, picking up the spoon and washing it on the sink as you try to listen to the hushed conversation. You can tell it was one of his siblings, even if you could only hear half of what they say. So when you finally take a look, hiding behind a wall, you are not surprised to see Damian in his Robin suit in the living room.

"Hi Damian, isn't it a bit too early to be Robin?" You wave

"Richard, you did not tell me that your beloved was here" He recriminates; you think it's adorable to see such a cute thing talking like an old man. He greets you, calling you by your last name as he usually does. Then his nose scrunches up,as if sniffing the air like a cat "are you making...?"

His question is not even finished as he walks past his older brother, who rolls his eyes saying"Yes, it's their gnocchi recipe, yes, you may stay for dinner"

You pout, silently telling him he's cute so he should be more forgiving towards his younger brother. He loves that you like his sibling, the one he raised for a while, but he also hates that all the little demon has to do is make a puppy face and you'd agree to anything.

Later in the evening, you found yourselves hyper focused on a backgammon game. You were both sitting on carpet in the living room, the game set on the coffee table. It was a hilarious sight for you, him competitive as always with his hair pushed back by one of your headbands and brows so furrowed you could see them under his blue face mask. Which he only agreed to do once you sat on his lap and offered to put it on for him; suddenly, all his complaints about "I'll break out" or "I don't like the way it feels on me" silenced. You know he secretly loves doing skincare with you, he just likes what you do to convince him more.

"Stop staring, you're trying to distract me"

"Am not!" You gently shoved his healthy arm, pretending to be offended at the accusation.

"Yes, you are" He childishly sticks his tongue out before moving his piece. You huff, taking the dice and rolling them in your hand but not letting go of them yet.

He moves closer to you, his breath fanning over your neck before you ask; "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't cheat"

"And how would I do that?" You turn your head lightly to look at him.

"That's why I'm looking at you" He shrugs

"Sure," You smile, amused,"and you're not projecting onto me, Richard"

He puts his hand over his chest, as if holding his heart, and pretends to be deeply disturbed by your words. Even going as far as falling on the carpet behind you. Done with his distracting antics, you finally roll the dice. Your lips tug in a big smile when you see the numbers.

"I got two sixes," you announce, and he quickly gets up.

"No way,"

"Yes way" This was your turn of sticking your tongue out to him.

He can't believe how much you're kicking his ass when he was the one who taught you how to play. He wants so badly to kiss that smug grin off your face, and he is about to turn your focus from moving the pieces when someone else surprises you both.

"How old are you two?" Steph jokes, closing the window she came in through

"Hi Steph," you smile "I'm winning"

She steps closer to high-five you as he shakes his head no, disapproving your celebration before adding; "Only 'cause you're cheating" as he gets up.

"Can I have your files on the Riddler, pretty please?" Steph asks, getting to the point of her visit.

He warns you not to touch anything before he gets up to find his secured laptop on his safe. He's going to be out of action for a while, so it's not like he could after him, might as well give them to someone else. When he returns a few minutes later with a flash drive full of the information she needs, he finds you both gossiping on his couch way too comfortably. You gasp as she tells you something, Steph clearly agreeing with your reaction. He waits, he doesn't want to interrupt just yet. His heart feels so full when he sees you get along so well with his family that he wants to save the moment for a little more.

"You got those files?" She asks when she finally notices him standing on the doorway outside the bedroom.

"Yeah," He throws the flash drive and she catches with impeccable reflexes"you're welcome"

"Thanks," She smiles before heading back out the window and telling you;"Kick his ass in that game"

You smile and promise you will, and he looks down to realize just how really over it was for him. So when you're distracted waving at Steph, he kicks the table to move the set. You turn back to see him, and before you can even get mad, he tells you he wants to cuddle up and watch a movie.

You let his little plan work, but not without calling him a sore loser. He pats the space next to him on the couch with a proud grin as he turns the TV on. You roll your eyes, settling down next to his good side so he can wrap an arm around you the way he likes. He may be a sore loser, but you're the one letting him get away with it. Halfway through the movie, you pause to take off the face-masks and catch him staring a little too much in the mirror.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You raise an eyebrow, not believing in his reply"I don't have eye bags and I'm not used to it"

"Duh, you've been sleeping at night like a normal person recently"

"I'll give you a reason to stay up all night" He bites back, his hand skillfully landing on your hips to make sure you stay in place as he takes a step to stand behind you.

"Come on, I wanna see how it ends" You're fast to move out of his hold, God knows how easily you fall for his charm every time.

You cuddle back on the couch hitting play on the horror movie you watched again, the lights were off to help the mood. He liked when you flinched as held him tighter even if the movie was scaring him more than you. You relax with your head on his shoulder, both arms wrapped around his as his sat on your thigh.

"See? Your skin is so soft" You smile, a hand reaching to caress his cheek.

"You're the one who wanted to watch the movie," He puffs "now I wanna know if they exorcise the demon"

You roll your eyes, shifting back your attention to the screen. The movie was building up to a jump scare, the tense music and ambient, something scary was bound to pop up in seconds. What neither of you expected was that the scare was going to come from outside the movie. Cass stepped in front of the TV to get your attention, and you both screamed. Dick could swear the stitches in her mask moved up in a smile as you both held tightly into each other.

"Steph came by and left like an hour ago," He says, once he regains his composure. He's aware now of how down his guard was, it was not normal for him to be startled this easily.

She hums and nods, leaving as fast as she appeared. Giving you both a wave before jumping off your window. Now you're too freaked to go back to the movie. Suddenly, watching horror movies in the dark didn't seem like a good idea anymore, especially when he had a plethora of younger siblings willing to break in at any given moment. His hand rubs your back gently, and you giggle once the adrenaline worn down over how silly it was. He laughs with you, telling you that he's never going to live it down and how they're going to make fun as soon as he sees them again. You smile before pressing a kiss to his lips, he looked too handsome when he laughed.

"I don't want to watch the movie anymore"

"Okay, I can lock the window," he offers, grinning when you nod.

Some time later, you were still on the couch, though now your clothes were scattered around the living room. A sitcom plays instead as you rest on top of him with your head on his chest, the blanket covering until your waist while he has his arms on top of you, his hand tracing circles on your bare back. He was still all smiles and loopy from you riding him, maybe being injured had a good side. Maybe Gotham could afford not having Nightwing every once in a while.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You,"He replies, flustering you and making you hide your face in his chest. "maybe I could stay in with you"

You lift your head to look at him, eyes shining with joy before he says; "Once a month" You pout in response, even if it's better than nothing.

"Maybe I convince you to once a week" You flirt, your lips finding the spot in his neck he likes having kissed way too much.

"Once every two weeks," He smirks, his hand going from your back to your hips again.

"Dick!" A younger voice yells from a different room in the apartment, "Why did you give Steph your files?! I called dibs on them when you got inj-"

He's quick to react, pulling the blanket higher to cover you. He is almost as fast to scold his younger brother; asking how did he come in as the other profusely apologizes, covering his eyes and turning his back. Your face heats up, you have never been more embarrassed in your entire life. you hide under the blanket as he reaches for his underwear, which luckily was close enough that he didn't have to get up to get it. If any humor was left in you, you'd laugh at him showing Tim the way out as he teaches him a lesson on basic boundaries and the consequences of breaking into someone's place. You would've laughed at Tim's comment of needing therapy to delete the image from his head if it happened to anyone else.

"I'm never showing my face to your family again" You say once he comes back and he laughs, clearly taking this way better than you.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey, I love the stories you are writing for us! Thank you so much! If there's room for another one, here's an idea: human reader is pregnant with Elijah's child but is afraid he might not believe her as it is impossible for a vampire to procreate. His reaction, in fact, causes her to leave New Orleans, and a few years later, she returns, and Elijah learns he is a dad. Fluffy, possibly smutty. ")

Devotion

he's so daddy, he's so father

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

When you find out you are pregnant you are afraid of how Elijah will react. His anxieties around fatherhood get the best of him and he gives in to his darker impulses.

♡♡ Thanks for the request(s) @originals23 @classymesstuff009 & anon ♡♡

I combined the ideas and changed some elements, but I hope I captured the spirit of the requests -xoxo

7.7k words - Warnings: this is less of a story with a plot and more of a series of events over the course of readers pregnancy, lots of angst, childbirth, so so so corny, so much fluff, lots of belly touches, Elijah being violently over protective, more fluff, lots of affection, smut at the end, unprotected sex (duh)

"No no no no no," you mumbled, staring down at the fourth positive pregnancy test you'd taken that day. This couldn't be happening, it wasn't possible. But as you glanced over the little box and read the word "pregnant" again and again, it began to sink in. You were having a baby, Elijah Mikaelson's baby, a baby whose existence was impossible.

A sob you had been suppressing broke free, and you collapsed on the edge of the tub. You had no idea what you were going to do, your relationship with Elijah was complicated and had no label, and the thought of raising a baby by yourself was daunting.

"I'll figure it out," you told yourself as you pulled yourself up and splashed some cold water on your face.

You needed to tell Elijah, which was an entirely different kind of terrifying. He had always been very clear that vampires were unable to procreate, so he likely would not believe you. The thought made your stomach turn, and you rushed to the toilet once more to empty the meager contents.

It took you a couple weeks before you were able to build up the courage to tell Elijah. You had tried to find the words to break the news, but every time you thought you had it figured out, you panicked and decided against it.

But you were starting to show, and you knew it wouldn't be long until your clothes no longer concealed your growing belly. So, the day after your second ultrasound you invited Elijah over for dinner.

He was worried about you, it had been over a month since he'd seen you last and over two months since the last time you were intimate together. He missed you, and wondered if you'd met someone else. But that was the only explanation he could think of.

When he arrived at your place, he noticed something different right away. You looked exhausted, but you had a small glow to you, he also noticed that you gained some weight and he enjoyed how it filled out your figure.

You greeted him at the door, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before handing you a bottle of wine. "Thank you," you smiled softly, leading him inside and taking the wine to the kitchen.

"It's been awhile," Elijah began, not knowing where to start, "are you doing alright?"

"Not exactly," you admitted, pouring two glasses of water and taking a seat on the couch next to him. Your hands began to shake, fear gripping you once more.

Elijah reached over and took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "What is wrong?" He asked, searching your eyes.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment before speaking. "I'm pregnant."

You could see the confusion, the anger, the disappointment and a dozen other emotions flash through his eyes. You couldn't stand the way he was looking at you, so you pulled your hand from his and stood, pacing around the room.

Elijah didn't know what to think, clearly you were seeing someone else. It hurt him, but neither of you ever had the talk about being exclusive. The thought of you with another man disappointed him immensely, it made him realize how much he wanted you all to himself. But it was too late for that now.

"Elijah, say something," you begged, tears streaming down your face. You were desperate for him to just say anything.

"Who is the father?" He questioned, his voice low.

You expected this question and had thought about your response for a while. Of course he wouldn't think it was his, it was impossible. But you had been with no one else, and you were tired of being a secret, you wanted to be a family, and if he rejected the idea, then that was on him.

"You," you answered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"That's not possible," he shook his head. "I can't procreate."

"Klaus can, why not you?" You snapped. You weren't expecting him to believe you, but the reality of it hurt more than you expected.

"Klaus is unique, I am not," he stated plainly. You were quite distressed and although he didn't believe himself to be the father he still had sympathy for your situation.

“Is the father not... A good man?" He asked.

You began to sob, the hormones were really working against you, and you didn't know what to do. He had no idea how to react, and the longer you stayed silent, the more worried he became.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, his voice low, as he moved towards you.

"Don't," you shook your head, pulling away from his touch. "If you don't believe me, that's fine. I'm not going to beg you. I can raise this baby on my own."

"I can't be the father, y/n," Elijah said, trying to reach for you once more.

"Just leave, please," you pleaded. He didn't believe you, he thought you were seeing someone else, and you couldn't stand to be in the same room with him any longer. "Get out Elijah!" You shouted.

Frustration rose within him, he didn't enjoy being blamed for something he didn't do.

“Fine," he muttered, moving towards the door.

You felt overwhelmed with despair and wanted nothing more to do with him, so you watched him walk out the door without saying a word.

It had been a few weeks since you last saw Elijah and your mental health was deteriorating at an alarming rate. You had very little support financially or emotionally and it was taking a toll on you.

You hadn't slept or eaten well and when you did, you often felt sick afterwards. You had known about postpartum depression, but apparently there was something called prenatal depression as well. You had been reading online about the symptoms, and it was almost as though you were looking in a mirror.

You needed help, but couldn't will yourself to ask for it. You had no family, and no friends in the city. The only person you knew in Louisiana was Elijah, and you didn't want anything to do with him.

His rejection of you and the baby hurt more than anything you'd ever experienced before. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at a picture of the ultrasound. You felt alone and abandoned.

You would walk the streets at night, a foolish thing to do considering the threats in New Orleans. But it was the only thing that seemed to calm your mind, and the fresh air helped ease the nausea.

It was a clear, warm night and the streets were quiet. The soft glow of the street lights created a calming atmosphere, and the cool breeze blew the hair away from your face. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the moment of peace.

Then you started to cry, your hormones making you feel like you were losing your mind. You hated it, you would start to cry for no reason and then cry some more because you were frustrated over crying for no reason. It was an endless cycle.

You felt so lost, you thought you could do this all on your own, but you hadn't even had the baby yet and you were falling apart. Even though Elijah didn't believe the child to be his, it was still a Mikaelson and that came with many consequences, some you couldn't possibly foresee. You knew of Hope and how she barely survived her birth, what if the same thing happened to you and your child? You didn't have Elijah to protect you.

You knew you needed to swallow your pride and convince Elijah, he was the only one who could protect both of you.

Your feet took you to the compound before you could talk yourself out of it, and you stood at the gates, hesitating for a moment before making your way inside. You could feel the baby kick and move, it strengthened your resolve.

Elijah was in his study when he heard you approaching, and he wondered what you wanted. He decided to leave you alone after you kicked him out. It was the right thing to do, he reminded himself, he was not the father.

When he saw you standing in the doorway, he could tell you were upset, but he had no desire to talk to you, not after the last time.

"Elijah, please listen to me," you said softly, the words sticking in your throat. "The baby is yours, I have never slept with anyone but you. There is no one else, only you."

He sighed, he wished he could believe you, but he knew it was not possible. He wondered how awful the true father had to be if you were here lying to him once again.

"I know we were never exclusive, but I wish you would be honest with me about whoever the father is," he said, his voice low.

You stared at him for a moment before a sob escaped your lips. "Elijah, there is no one else, there has never been anyone else."

"Why do you insist upon lying?" He asked, turning away from you, unable to stand the pain in your eyes.

Sudden rage boiled over inside of you and you lashed out at the nearby table, knocking the items onto the floor. "I am not fucking lying!" You shouted.

Your outburst was quite unexpected, and he turned back to look at you, his eyes narrowing. Before he could say anything Freya walked in, alerted by the yelling and broken glass.

"What's going on?" She asked, stepping in between the two of you.

The tears returned, always at the most inconvenient times, and you just sobbed into your hands and knelt to the floor. Pure frustration and exhaustion took over and you were completely overwhelmed.

Freya looked at Elijah, confused and annoyed. He wasn't the type to yell, and certainly not at a pregnant woman. She wondered what was going on and why you were so upset.

Elijah shook his head, and began cleaning up the mess you'd made. He couldn't bear to look at you, the pain in your eyes was too much for him.

Freya walked over and knelt next to you, rubbing your back. "Tell me what's wrong sweetheart," she said softly.

The moment Freya touched you she felt it, her own blood, running through your veins.

"It's okay," Freya assured you. "Can I touch your belly?"

You nodded again, and she gently placed her hand over the swell, and instantly felt the magic pulsating from your womb. Freya could always sense her own blood, so long she searched for it. And here it was, right in front of her.

She was overjoyed, she had a niece or nephew, a new tiny Mikaelson for her to dote on. She was also so angry at her foolish brother she could have strangled him.

"Elijah," she said sternly, mustering her big sister voice to scold her little brother. "It's yours," she said firmly, standing and facing him.

He froze, a mixture of emotions passing through him. First he felt disbelief, then excitement, and finally dread. If this was his child, then the threats they faced everyday were even more dangerous.

"Are you certain?" He asked, not wanting to believe, fear gripping his heart.

Freya nodded, and moved to stand next to you, helping you to your feet. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally.

"Why didn't you bring her to me sooner?" She asked him, helping you over to the sofa and fetching you a glass of water. "Look at her Elijah, how could you leave her like this?"

He knew his sister was right, and he felt ashamed. He had been a fool, and caused you unnecessary suffering. He would not be making that mistake again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, coming to kneel in front of you. "Forgive me, please."

"I tried to tell you," you said softly, sniffling quietly.

"Leave us Freya, thank you," he said, not taking his eyes off you.

Freya was reluctant, but agreed, closing the door behind her. Elijah sat next to you, his posture stiff, and his face a stony expression. You were afraid, unsure what he would do or say.

He was always prone to self-loathing, but this was a new level, and he didn't know what to do. He felt incredibly guilty and responsible for the pain and stress he caused you. You did not look well, and he knew he needed to do everything he could to fix this.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, you looked dazed and swayed a bit, he pulled you close, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Don't apologize," you whispered, lifting your head and looking at him, "just promise you will help me, that's all I ask,"

Elijah was taken aback by the request. Of course he was going to help, why wouldn't he? But the fact that you needed to ask, made him feel terrible, made him feel like Klaus.

"Of course," he assured you, brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

A few tears escaped your eyes. You were tired and overwhelmed and his words and gentle touches were enough to completely break you. You began to cry, burying your face in his chest as you sobbed. A tidal wave of conflicting emotions washing over you, frustration, anger, guilt and a tiny hint of relief.

Elijah felt terrible, and he hated himself for causing this. You were pregnant, alone, and suffering. He would never forgive himself.

"You will stay here and you don't have to worry about a thing," he soothed, gently rubbing your back, "I will take care of everything, I promise,"

He meant it, you and the baby were his responsibility now, and he would protect you both with his life.

It had been a month since you moved into the compound and Elijah was true to his word and took care of everything.

He compelled doctors to check on you and Freya was also doing a spell daily to ensure the baby was healthy and developing well.

But he didn't have to compel people for the things that mattered. He was the one cooking your meals, helping with the nursery, and ensuring you were getting rest.

One night after dinner, you were sitting on the sofa together, talking and laughing.

You were starting to feel better, but you still struggled with your emotions, and Elijah did his best to make sure you were always happy and stress free.

You began to feel a little anxious, and he immediately sensed it, pulling you close to cuddle with him. Neither of you had discussed your growing feelings and neither of you knew where you stood with each other.

He placed a warm hand on your growing bump, and it instantly soothed the baby, and in turn, helped calm your nerves. You leaned closer into him and he wrapped his other arm around your shoulder.

He enjoyed having you so close, and he could smell the sweet scent of your shampoo as you rested your head against his shoulder. He still felt such guilt for the pain and stress he had caused you.

"Is this okay?" He asked softly, his hand slowly moving over the swell.

You smiled, enjoying the gentle caress. "Mmhmm," you hummed, snuggling deeper into his side.

He was being very sweet, and you were beginning to suspect that he had more than just feelings of obligation for the baby.

Elijah was enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his, and he hoped that he could continue to make amends for the way he behaved.

"Have you thought of any names?" He asked, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"Hmmm," you thought, enjoying the warmth of his hand and the rumble of his chest. "I'm thinking… Elijah jr," you teased, giggling.

He chuckled and gave you a light squeeze. "Absolutely not," he smirked, kissing the top of your head.

It was a pleasant moment and the two of you laughed and talked about the upcoming birth and baby names.

Eventually, you fell asleep, and Elijah picked you up and carried you to bed. He gently tucked you in and placed a kiss on your forehead.

Now that you were asleep, he could let his own anxieties surface. The trauma around Hope's birth still haunted him and he would do anything to prevent that from happening to you.

So he did the same thing he had done every night since you moved in. He left the compound to go hunting.

The first night you arrived, he went out for a drink, planning on just having one to calm his nerves. But then he heard a group of young vampires discussing the strung out looking pregnant woman walking the streets at night. And when they wondered what a pregnant woman's blood would taste like... Well they didn't stand a chance after that.

It made him feel better, seeing their body parts scattered around him, to smell their blood and have their dead hearts in his hands.

And so on it went, he would stalk the streets of the French Quarter, waiting for anyone to dare mention you or the baby. It didn't matter who, why or even where, they would never get a chance to speak again.

Every night he would return, his hunger sated, and he would climb into bed with you. You were still sound asleep and unaware of what he was doing. He would pull you close to him, and listen to the soft rhythmic beat of your heart and the heart of his child. It was the only thing that calmed him, and it helped him drift off into a peaceful sleep.

But that night you woke, the baby was kicking and it made you feel nauseous. You got up to go to the bathroom, too groggy to notice Elijah in the shower until you walked in.

You gasped at the sight of him covered in blood, halfway through washing it off of him under the warm water.

He noticed the shocked look on your face, and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

"Is that... blood?" You asked, eyeing the pink tint to the water as it disappeared down the drain.

Elijah hesitated, "it's nothing you need to worry about," he insisted.

He wasn't trying to lie or deceive you, he was trying to protect you. He knew it was twisted and wrong, and he would be the first to admit he had a dark side, but he would never want you to see it.

"Why are you covered in blood?" You asked, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of your stomach.

Elijah was not accustomed to answering questions, he was usually the one giving the orders, but you were not one of his siblings. He would tell you the truth, you deserved that.

"It's the blood of those who wish to do us harm," he admitted.

He expected you to be shocked, but the truth was, you weren't. He was a Mikaelson, and a powerful vampire, it was only natural that others would want to hurt him and his family. Hayley had shared with you what happened to her when she gave birth to Hope, you were beyond frightened of it happening to you. Fear is a powerful thing, it can override any sort of morals you may possess.

"And did you kill them?" You asked, looking directly into his eyes.

He nodded, he could see that you were not upset, and he was relieved.

"How many?"

Elijah was slightly taken aback by your curiosity, and it gave him pause.

"A lot," he admitted, his dark eyes flashing in the dim light of the room.

"I know you are afraid, I am too," you said softly, reaching out and touching his face. "I'm afraid of the birth, of our child being in danger," you confessed, "and I'm afraid for you and all the darkness you take on to protect us,"

"I'm doing what I have to," he said softly, covering your hand with his.

"I know," you nodded, leaning closer and resting your forehead against his. "And I am grateful for that, and I trust you, but I don't want you to be consumed by it,"

He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you tight, listening to the gentle beat of your heart and that of your child.

"Let's get you back to bed," he said softly, kissing your forehead.

You were still exhausted, and he wanted you to rest. He helped you back to bed and tucked you in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before heading to his own room.

From that night on he stopped hunting, and spent more time with you. The two of you were becoming closer, but he didn't want you do feel any sort of pressure to be with him. He would be happy with whatever you were comfortable with.

He was plagued by nightmares, visions of you dead in his arms the same way Hayley was, and he woke up in a cold sweat every night. He would climb into bed next to you and pull you close, placing his hand on your bump and waiting for the baby to kick. When the child would move, it was a reassurance that the two of you were alive, and you were safe.

Your eighth month of pregnancy was difficult, and Elijah had become even more attentive. Your ankles were swollen, your back ached, and the baby was a wild one.

But the worst part was the hormones, they were completely out of control. You cried at everything, the commercial about a cute dog, a sad movie, and even a happy song. You were a wreck and it was a struggle just to get through the day.

Hayley, Rebekah and Freya had noticed your increasing distress and decided to throw you a baby shower. It was nice to be surrounded by people that cared about you.

The women of the Mikaelson family understood you more than anyone ever could, and they did their best to make sure you were comfortable. Hayley was especially sympathetic and supportive, having been through it herself.

"The last three months are killer," she laughed, patting your belly.

"Tell me about it," you sighed, watching Rebekah and Freya decorate the courtyard for the upcoming party.

"They are really going all out for this," Hayley laughed, and you could tell she was pleased that the other two were trying to make you feel welcome.

"I think it's more for the baby than me," you giggled, "they love being aunties,"

"Am I an auntie too?" Hayley teased, knowing she wasn't biologically connected, but the baby was still family.

You nodded, and she was beaming with joy.

"Well, i'm excited for Hope to have a little cousin, she needs someone to play with," Hayley smiled, her hand still resting on your belly.

You were both startled by a sudden sharp movement from the baby, and laughed.

"Well, this one will definitely keep her on her toes," you laughed.

The party was extravagant to say the least, it was more of a ball than a baby shower. Klaus had invited every faction of the supernatural world and there was an assortment of vampires, witches and wolves mingling together.

Klaus and Elijah decided to take an entirely different approach to your pregnancy and the impending birth than the one they had with Hayley.

They knew not to repeat the mistakes they made the first time and wanted to foster peace and harmony among the factions.

Elijah was on edge, his nightmares becoming increasingly worse, and he was struggling to find a way to ease his anxieties.

He would have preferred not to have this party, but he was overridden by the rest of his family.

He knew it was important, a sign of good faith and acceptance. But his mind was plagued with the past and the pain and suffering that came from that. He wanted to forget the horrors and the violence and the blood, and focus on the future and the new life that was coming.

He dove head first into the politics, spending the evening schmoozing and talking business with the representatives of each faction. It was the only way for him to feel calm and in control, and it kept his mind from drifting into darker corners.

"Are you okay?"

His thoughts were interrupted by you, and the sound of your voice calmed him. You had come over to him and was holding his hand, looking concerned.

You looked so beautiful, your hair in soft curls, your belly protruding from a flowy blue dress. You were round and glowing and a perfect picture of motherhood.

"Of course," he assured you, squeezing your hand and taking a sip of his drink.

You were worried about him, he seemed distant and preoccupied.

"It's too much isn't it? This party," you asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the crowds.

"No," he shook his head, "it's wonderful," he forced a smile, not wanting to worry you.

"If you want to leave, we can," you offered, feeling uncomfortable, and not wanting him to be either.

He kissed the side of your head, a gesture that made you blush. "This is for the baby, and I will not deny the baby anything,"

Elijah had always been a bit affectionate towards you, but he never overstepped his bounds and you were unsure of how to handle it. You enjoyed his presence, but it was getting a little confusing.

You were a bit flustered, and excused yourself, going to find some air outside. Elijah watched as you walked away and was tempted to follow, but he had his hands full, trying to talk the wolves out of challenging a vampire for a perceived slight.

You leaned against the balcony, letting the cool air calm your nerves.

"How's it going?" Said a party goer, you weren't sure what faction they were a part of, but they seemed a little drunk.

"Fine," you said, not wanting to be bothered.

"Pregnant with a Mikaelson, that's some shit luck," he snorted, clearly intoxicated.

"Excuse me?" You scoffed, wondering why this was a topic of discussion.

"I mean, there are three benefits to fucking vampires," he began, holding his hand up to count them, "one, no diseases, two, usually really good in bed and three, no pregnancies,"

He began to laugh, and you felt angry and defensive.

"I would appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut," you warned, not wanting to hear the drunken ramblings of an idiot.

"Was it worth one and maybe two to not have the third?" He laughed, clearly not getting the hint.

You were furious, and you went to walk away, but he grabbed your arm. "Lemme touch your belly, I wonder how strong a Mikaelson kicks," he laughed.

Before you could react Elijah appeared and had the drunk man by the throat. A crowd of party goers gathered to watch the scene.

Elijah was completely overcome by his rage, the fear in your eyes when the man grabbed you took him right back into his endless nightmares. A small part of him knew he should let the man go, but he couldn't, he was consumed by the thought that if he let go, he would lose you, and that was unacceptable.

He squeezed tighter and the man gagged, clawing at his hands and begging for mercy. The crowd gasped in horror as Elijah's eyes went black and veins crawled across his face.

"To anyone here who thinks it's okay to touch her, let this be an example of the fate you await," he snarled.

"Elijah!" You yelled, but it was too late.

The man was dead, and his head fell from his body.

You stood in shock, the entire party was silent, and Elijah dropped the body and turned towards you. He was shaking, and his eyes returned to their normal color, the veins disappearing from his face.

He turned to the crowd, projecting his voice loud and clear. "Do I make myself clear?" He growled, looking at the faces of everyone around him.

The room was full of fearful nods, and the crowd slowly dispersed.

Elijah took your hand, leading you out of the courtyard and towards his room.

You followed without a word, still in shock. He closed the door behind you and you sat down on his bed.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kneeling in front of you, his hands on your bump.

You nodded, and placed your hands over his.

"You have to understand," he began, and you could hear the strain in his voice, "when he touched you, when I saw his hands on you, I..."

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, "I can't- I won't. Lose you."

"It's okay," you soothed, placing a hand on his cheek.

Elijah could hardly control his emotions, the fear and anguish was too much, and he let out a sob, pulling you into his arms and holding you tight.

You cradled his head in your hands and held him close, whispering sweet words and letting him know it was okay.

He was the strongest person you had ever known, and seeing him like this made your heart break.

"Shhh," you soothed, kissing the top of his head, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere,"

You felt his grip loosen, and his breathing became more steady.

"It's okay," you repeated, placing soft kisses on his cheek and forehead, and moving to his lips.

You hadn't kissed in nearly 8 months, not since the night you had made love and conceived the baby. But you felt him return the kiss, and he wrapped his arms around you.

He was hesitant and unsure of how you would respond. You had been together once, but things had been complicated and stressful. But he wanted to show you just how much he loved you.

He pulled away, searching your eyes, and finding only compassion and acceptance.

"I'm hoping we can try again, to be together, if you will have me," he whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of your face.

You leaned into his touch, and he was hopeful that you would want the same.

"Of course," you agreed, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, and running your fingers through his hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other and enjoying the moment. It was peaceful and the first time Elijah had truly felt at ease in months.

The day of the birth was finally upon you, and you were nervous and in pain. Freya and Hayley were at your side, holding your hand and trying to keep you calm as they helped you through your labor.

Elijah was pacing in the hallway, anxious and on edge. He had been a wreck, barely able to eat or sleep, and it was obvious to the entire family.

He stopped, listening to you moan and groan and hiss in pain. He wished he could take it all away, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

"Why don't you go be with her," Rebekah suggested, putting a hand on her brothers shoulder.

"She doesn't want me in there," he sighed, he had tried, and you had pushed him out, not wanting him to see you like this.

"She's in pain, she's probably not thinking clearly," Rebekah insisted, "trust me, she wants you in there,"

Elijah wasn't sure, but he couldn't handle not being near you any longer, so he went in, ready to be rejected.

You were in bed, sweating and panting and groaning. Hayley was holding your hand and Freya was using a spell to soothe your pain.

You opened your eyes, and saw him, and reached out for him, and he ran to your side, taking your other hand in his.

"You are doing so well," he said softly, his voice full of love.

"I can't," you groaned, feeling as though you couldn't go on.

"Yes, you can," he encouraged, kissing your knuckles.

You were in agony, but his touch and his voice were like a balm to your soul, and it gave you strength.

Rebekah was right, having him next to you was the best thing in the world, and it helped you through the hours of labor.

Finally, the moment came, and you screamed as you gave one final push. The room was filled with the sound of a crying infant and you collapsed back against the pillows.

"It's a boy!" Freya announced, cutting the umbilical cord and wrapping the baby up, passing him over to you.

"Oh my goodness," you cried, tears of joy running down your face as you looked down at the precious life in your arms.

"A boy," Elijah whispered, staring at his son in awe. He reached out and placed his hand on his sons head, feeling the soft downy hair.

"He's beautiful," Hayley commented, admiring the little bundle.

"Just like his father," you smiled, and Elijah kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you and your new baby.

You were exhausted, but ecstatic, and Elijah couldn't help but feel pride and joy. He had helped create such a perfect and precious creature. Out of all of his darkness came something pure and beautiful, and he would do anything to protect his son.

As the night went on the others left, leaving you and Elijah alone with the baby. The both of you couldn't take your eyes off of him.

"We need to decide on a name," you said softly, stroking the babies face with your finger.

"I think," Elijah began, watching the baby squirm and wriggle, "he should be named after his uncle Henrik,"

"That's perfect," you smiled, a tear running down your cheek, "Henry,"

"Henry," Elijah repeated, looking at his son, "I'm your father, and I promise to always love and protect you,"

"I will love you, until the end of time," you whispered, placing a soft kiss on Henry's tiny nose.

Henry let out a little squeak and yawned, and you and Elijah laughed. He was the most perfect thing you and Elijah had ever seen, and the two of you couldn't stop smiling.

Life at the compound was hectic, with Hope and Henry underfoot. Elijah was always watching the babies, making sure they were safe and happy. He was a wonderful father and uncle, and it made you fall in love with him even more.

The two of you were utterly exhausted new parents and Rebekah insisted that the two of you take a break and spend a little time together. She convinced you and Elijah to let her care for Henry for a weekend, while the two of you got away.

It was hard for both of you, you had never been apart from him for more than a few hours, but the two of you needed the time alone.

"Just go, have fun," Rebekah had encouraged, taking Henry from Elijah, "you both need a break,"

The drive was long, but Elijah's company made it go by faster, and you finally arrived at the cabin.

"I hope this is okay," Elijah said, helping you out of the car.

"It's perfect," you assured him, it was cozy and private, and the view was spectacular.

The two of you walked inside, and took in the surroundings. It was a large cabin, with a beautiful stone fireplace and a big open kitchen. Elijah started the fire as you cooked dinner, the two of you fully in sync.

It was easy having him as a partner, and you felt relaxed and at home. The only thing missing from your lives was sex. Once Henry arrived it was a constant state of exhaustion and there wasn't much room for romance.

You thought back to the night Henry was conceived, and how passionate and hot the experience was. But you were nervous to do it again, the pregnancy had changed your body, and you weren't sure how he would react.

After dinner you cuddled up with him on the couch, his arm around your shoulder and your head resting on his chest. He kissed the top of your head and smiled.

"I've missed this," he said softly, playing with a loose strand of your hair.

"Me too," you admitted, running your hand up and down his arm.

He took a deep breath, and you could tell he was nervous about something.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, turning to look at him.

"Yes," he nodded, his brown eyes meeting yours, "I just...want you to know that I am completely in love with you, and I will do anything to make you happy,"

You blushed, and looked away, not sure what to say.

"And I know our relationship has been a bit unconventional," he continued, his voice low, "but I would like to court you, if you will allow me,"

"Court me?" You chuckled, "darling, I think you are doing this all backwards,"

"Perhaps," he laughed, taking your hand in his, "I couldn't ask for a better mother for my child, and a more devoted companion,"

You smiled, and leaned in, kissing him, and the spark was still there. He kissed back, cupping your face with his hands and pulling you onto his lap. His hands roamed your body and your breath hitched when he ran them up your thighs.

"Is this okay?" He asked, stopping, and looking up at you.

You nodded, and pressed your lips against his, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding against him. He groaned and gripped your hips, guiding them to move with his.

You could feel his growing erection, and the friction against your core made you moan. You had missed this, and could hardly believe you had waited so long.

He picked you up and carried you to the bedroom, laying you down and crawling on top of you, his lips never leaving yours.

You ran your fingers through his hair, and his hands traveled up your shirt, caressing your skin and cupping your breast.

You felt a bit self-conscious, your body was different now, and he hadn't seen it. You didn't want him to be disappointed, but you knew he wouldn't judge you.

"Darling, are you alright?" He asked, pulling away, "we can stop,"

"No," you shook your head, and sat up, "it's just, I'm a little nervous,"

"About?" He asked, furrowing his brows.

"My body," you admitted, "it's different now, and I know it's stupid, but I'm worried,"

He gave you a knowing look, and pulled your dress up over your head. You body was different, your breasts fuller, your hips wider, stretch marks across your belly and thighs.

"These scars are nothing to be ashamed of," he began, kissing the stretch marks across your stomach, "they show your strength and the fact that you brought a beautiful and healthy baby into the world,"

"Elijah," you blushed, not used to hearing him speak so openly about your body.

"These breasts, they have nourished our son. These hips, they carried and protected him," he continued, his hands on your body, caressing every inch.

"I have no words for how beautiful you are," he concluded, his eyes full of lust, "may I continue?"

You nodded, and he pulled his shirt off, exposing his chiseled torso. You ran your hands over his shoulders, tracing his muscles, and down his chest.

He trailed his lips up to your breasts, gently kissing them and sucking your nipples. He was gentle and slow, and it felt incredible. They were extra sensitive from breastfeeding, and his touch sent a shock straight to your core.

He slowly removed your underwear, his eyes raking over your naked body. He kissed every inch of your skin, loving every part of you.

His lips traveled down your belly, and settled between your legs. His tongue moved expertly against your clit, and you gasped, grabbing the sheets.

He hummed contently, missing the taste of you, and wanting to please you. His hands held your thighs, and his tongue teased and swirled.

You moaned and arched your back, it had been so long and you were so close already. He knew just how to get you there, and it only took a few minutes for him to bring you over the edge.

He didn't stop, and continued, sucking and licking, bringing you to orgasm again and again. Your head was spinning, and you could hardly breath, but it felt amazing.

Finally he stopped, and kissed his way up your body, until his lips met yours.

"You deserve a reward for being such a perfect mother," he smiled, his voice full of pride.

You smiled, and kissed him again, running your hands down his chest and stopping at his waistband.

"Now I think it's your turn," you whispered, unbuttoning his pants.

He smiled and watched your face as you underdressed him. His cock sprung free, and you stroked it, running your hand up and down the shaft. Looking into his eyes as he kneeled over you, his eyes heavy and filled with lust.

"It's been so long, I missed your touch," he growled, his voice husky.

"I've missed this too," you replied, stroking him and running your thumb over the tip.

He kissed you slowly and deeply, moaning as your hands worked him. His tongue explored your mouth, and you felt him twitch and throb in your hands.

"Hold on," he said softly, moving away from you.

He got up and rummaged around his bag, coming back with a condom.

"I've never used one of these before," he said sheepishly, and it was the most adorable thing.

You laughed and sat up, taking the foil packet and opening it, rolling it over his cock and kissing him.

"Now, where were we?" You smirked, laying back down.

He crawled back on top of you, lining his cock up with your entrance. He was still gentle, but you were ready for him, and the two of you were eager.

He pushed in, and it felt like the first time, hot and tight. He took his time, pushing in a bit at a time and allowing you to adjust.

Once he was fully inside, he waited a moment, kissing you, and savoring the feeling of being joined with you.

You moved your hips, signaling him to move, and he complied, thrusting slowly and deeply.

The two of you rocked back and forth, the soft sound of skin against skin filling the air. He moved with the perfect rhythm, hitting the right spot with every thrust.

His mouth was on your neck, leaving love bites, and his hands were on your hips, gripping tightly.

"I love you," he groaned, his voice strained.

"I love you too," you moaned, feeling yourself getting close.

You never wanted this to end, a part of you longing for even more than what you already had. You looked into his eyes, feeling the way his body connected with yours so perfectly.

Your orgasm rushed over you, and you squeezed him so hard he pulled out for moment, his cock resting on your stomach. He looked down at you, your pupils blown with love and lust.

"Do you want to make a sibling for Henry?" You said softly, toying gently with the tip of the condom, searching his eyes for an answer.

"Is that something you want?" He asked, looking down at you with pure love.

"Yes," you nodded, "I want another baby, I want a whole family with you,"

He kissed you in response, then smiled down at you, his eyes shining with happiness.

"I will give you anything you want," he whispered.

You pulled the condom off slowly, both of you panting heavily. He looked down, watching as your hands wrapped around his bare cock, pumping up and down, spreading the precum over the head.

You lined him back up, and he pushed back in, his breath catching as he eased his way into your warm and wet heat.

You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his length twitching and swelling as he got closer. He moaned, and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes shut tight.

"I want you to cum inside me," you whispered, knowing he was close.

You could feel yourself getting close, and his breath was labored, his hips grinding against yours, your wetness coating him.

His hips snapped, and his hands gripped the sheets, and with one final thrust he came, filling you up and pushing you over the edge.

He kissed you as he came down, his cock still pulsing as he softened inside of you. He hummed happily, keeping you connected as he rolled you on your side.

You curled up against him, and kissed him, and he pressed his hand gently against your stomach, imagining a tiny being forming inside.

"I always wanted a family of my own," he said softly, nuzzling into you, "thank you for giving me that,"

You squeezed him tighter, understanding the weight of his words. He had given you everything, love, devotion, a family. It was everything you ever wanted. He had helped you become the happiest and the best version of yourself and you did the same for him.

The two of you laid there, cuddled up against each other, safe and content. Tomorrow would bring a new adventure, but right now everything was perfect.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog

[yelenasdiary]

How about the story of Nat realizing she's pregnant and dealing with it all. Then the day to day life of Nat and her babygirl

Wondering

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Daughter! Reader

Summary: With help from her best friend, Clint, Natasha escapes the control of the Red Room and prepares for a whole new life.

Angst, Comfort.

Warnings: Mentions of Red Room, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, Childbirth | 1.7K

Translations: милый (darling), я люблю тебя, солнышко (I love you, sunshine)

AC: I think this is the perfect request for the first fic of the AU! Thank you for sending this x I hope this helps set a little backstory for Nat.

A Widow’s Sunshine Masterlist

Natasha had been nothing but quiet for the last four days since staying with Clint at his farmhouse. It was a big house for a man who lived alone, Clint assumed that his friend was worried that the widows of the Red Room would find her and take her back but the look in Natasha's eyes told him that was far from her worries.

"Alright, tell me what's going on" Clint spoke as he sat down next to Nat on the sofa. His friend looked at him and sighed lightly, "Nat, come on, you can tell me" he added. Natasha knew the time would come and she would have to talk somewhat about her time in the Red Room. She and Clint have been on the run since she met him, although this was not the first time, she was able to escape, this time was the only time they haven't found her and brought her back. 

"Remember how I was telling you about the graduation ceremony?" Natasha replied, Clint nodded. "Well, I didn't tell you all the stages before it. Before the graduation and after you've completed the program, you're to hav-" Natasha paused, the trauma of her life catching up to her, although she was still young, in her early 20s, she felt she had already lived a lifetime of trauma. Clint placed his hand on top of hers for comfort, "whatever it is Nat, we'll get through it" he assured her. 

"I'm pregnant" the words spewed out. Nat could see the questions flying around Clint's mind and deserved to answer them before he asked. "It's Dreykov's way of getting more widows without getting caught, they inseminate you, you give birth, they take the baby, and you go to what they call recovery which is just them brainwashing you until you have completely forgotten the last 9 months. After that, you go through the graduation ceremony and…well the rest is what you already know" she explained. 

Clint took a moment to process the news he was just told, "do you" He paused unsure if his question would offend his best friend, but it was something he needed to know to be able to help, "do you want to keep the baby?" He asked. Natasha nodded as a soft smile tugged at her lips, "I've done enough bad in the world, and I'll be damned if I let them do the same to my baby. I know this isn't what you expected so I don't expect you keep me here, but I do need a little time to work something out" she replied. 

"Don't be stupid Nat. You can stay here as long as you and the baby need, you're safe here, I promise" Clint spoke sternly, assuring his words got through to his best friend. Natasha hugged him tightly, thanking him for his understanding and kindness and for a moment any worries she currently had were no more. 

----

Pregnancy for Natasha was a whole new chapter that she wasn't prepared for, but she loved every single moment of it. It gave her a sense of normality; she spent her days learning new things that would help her for when her baby would enter the world. Clint helped her along the way, he even began building a small homestead for Natasha to have a little more privacy when her baby was born. It was only a few months into her pregnancy that Clint met Laura. 

Each night Natasha would read you stories from a children's book she would buy from the thrift shop, even though you weren't born yet, the little actions she did while pregnant gave her great comfort and made her even more excited to finally hold you in her arms. She would talk to you about anything she was doing, baking cookies for Clint and Laura? She would be talking you through each step and even asking you questions as if you could actually answer her, sometimes you would kick, and she would take that as an answer. 

Even through all the happiness, joy and excitement there was still worries and fears growing with each day. She was suspicious as to why she'd gone almost her entire pregnancy without even a sighting or feeling that Dreykov was after her. Clint assured her that his farm was a safe place and even offered for Natasha to join the Avengers after you were born, and she felt ready. It was an idea that she spent time thinking about but at the end of the day all she wanted to do was make sure you were happy, healthy and safe.

"Woah there милый" Natasha chuckled, rubbing her hand over her bump, "this isn't the world cup" she added. 

"Kicking a lot today?" Clint asked, taking a sip of his afternoon coffee.

"She hasn't stopped" Nat replied. Clint looked up at her with wide eyes, "she? When did you find out" he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice. Natasha couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips while her hand naturally rubbed her seven-month pregnant stomach, "I didn't need to find out" she replied, "She was always going to be a little girl" she added but she didn't let the faint memory of the Red Room bring out the happiness she had been having with each day you grew. 

Clint got up and hugged Natasha and congratulated her, he could see the sparkle in her eyes for the first time ever, he'd never seen her so happy in the few short years that he had known her. "I wanna show you something" he said, taking her by the hand and walking her out to the small homestead that he had just finished and was waiting until the next day to give her the key. 

"I was going to wait until tomorrow but given the news, maybe you want to start planning out the nursery" Clint smiled. Tears built up in Nat's eyes, "what do you think baby girl?" Natasha whispered as she looked around the empty room, "you can paint it, do whatever you like with it, this is all yours" Clint said.

"You've done so much for us, I can't thank you enough" Natasha turned on her heels and hugged him, "thank you" she whispered. 

Over the last couple months of pregnancy, Natasha was preparing for you to enter this world. She and Clint painted the nursery in a soft pastel green color, she hung a photo from her first ultrasound on the wall above your changing table, baby animal décor stickers were also put on the walls. Clint helped up together all the future and placed it wherever Natasha thought would be best and once the nursery was complete, she couldn't wait to rock you to sleep in her arms in the rocking chair or watch you play with your toys on the purple rug when you would get a little older. 

You entered the big wide world at 5:23am on a Thursday morning, healthy and a little smile that made everybody melt. Natasha didn't want to let you go, she could barely take her eyes off you, even when Clint and Laura came to bring the two of you home, she was nervous as anything when Clint held you. 

"Do we have a name yet for the little one?" a nurse asked, "we really need to get the birth certificate done today" she added. 

Natasha nodded, "Y/n Melina Romanoff" she replied with a soft smile. 

"Melina?" Clint questioned, "I'll tell you later, now give me my baby" the red head replied with a soft smile and arms wide open. 

"A beautiful name, I'll finalise the certificate" the nurse smiled, writing your name on a piece of paper. 

----

Natasha was loving every moment of motherhood, even when she felt like she was going to fall asleep while feeding you and when sometimes she thought it was going to be another sleepless night on the cards but being your mother was the only thing she wanted to do every single day. When you slept, she slept and often Clint would find her asleep in the rocking chair by your crib when he came to check on things. Clint and Laura helped as much as they could, but of course, your mother was head strong and said she was fine with looking after you on her own.

"You look exhausted" Clint said as he placed a small bag of groceries on the counter for Nat. "She just didn't want to sleep last night" she replied, pouring herself a mug of hot coffee and sitting down at the small table in her kitchen. "Why don't Laura and I take her for the night so you can get a decent sleep for once" Clint offered but Natasha shook her head, "it's not that I don't want that, I just hate the idea of not being with her" Nat admitted.

"She'll just be up at house, you need some sleep Nat, you can't keep being supermom on coffee and 3 hours of sleep each day" Clint spoke, worried for his best friend. "Besides, how else am I going to show her how great of an uncle I am if you don't let me do that" he added to lighten the mood. Natasha cocked a brow as she took a sip of her coffee, deep down she knew she had to eventually let her guard down just a little and allow others to help. She just wanted the best for you.

"One night" Natasha replied. 

Clint smiled, "you've got it" 

As the weeks turned to months, things got easier for the new mother, each day you had her in awe. Nat eventually did allow for Clint and Laura to spend more time with you while she had a little me time and caught up on sleep. She loved taking you for walks around the property in your pusher, she loved bath time and hearing your little giggles and of course capturing your sweet smile whenever she played peek-a-boo. 

At night when she would pop her head into your room to check on you, she found herself watching you for minutes on end. Her mind wondering about what life was going to bring for the two of you, what tomorrow would bring. She often wondered what your first words would be, when you would take your first steps and what all your favorite things would be but for now, she wanted nothing more than to just enjoy these early years and learn everything she possibly could about you.

"я люблю тебя, солнышко" your mother whispered as she placed the soft kiss on your forehead.

Taglist: @koinsss | @liloandstitchstan | @marcia-maximoff | @skittlebum | @katethewritersblog | @taliiiaasteria | @nova-kyle | 

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's linked at the top of this post.

[chippedshake]

Marcia shouldn't be out on the East Side alone. She's heard more than enough horror stories from her classmates about girls who go too far out alone to know that it's a stupid decision. But every decision she's made since that Friday back in September has been stupid, so what's one more?

She's not entirely sure why she's going over to his house. He's made it clear that he isn't interested and this just makes her seem like a stalker who can't let go of some stupid flirting that happened nearly six months ago.

When she'd first asked Evie for his address, she'd thought she could surprise him a couple days later by showing up and taking him out. She wanted to wait until he called, though, so she could be sure he'd be home when she passed by. Then the son of a bitch hadn’t called her and months had gone by and she'd gotten pissed.

He'd made it abundantly clear he was into her back at the drive-in. If he wasn’t, why didn't he just reject her? Why make her go through the humiliation of months of waiting?

Now, as she draws her jacket closer around herself to feel a bit safer under all the gazes that follow her trail, she just wants an explanation. No one ever liked her before Two-Bit, not even Randy. They dated out of convenience and he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye when he skipped town.

Marcia's always been everyone’s second choice, just Cherry's best friend, the other one. Until Two-Bit came along. He saw her with Cherry and seemed to really see her. Not a best friend or comic relief or a way to get into someone else's pants. And she let herself get her hopes up like an idiot, thinking that maybe someone who got her would finally like her too.

And then he didn't call her back.

Is there something wrong with her – something so fundamentally wrong that no one could ever really like her?

Oh, God, and now she's knocking on his door and has absolutely no game plan and he's standing in front of her – has he been always that cute? – and his eyes are wide with shock, and she really seems like a stalker, doesn't she?

"I– uh... hi." Marcia looks up at him sheepishly. The anger that’s been boiling in her chest for weeks now seems to have completely disappeared, crumbling into motes of dust that sweep away with the wind.

All she really wants to do now is hug him and bury her face in his chest and tell him all of the remarks she's suppressed during the past few months because once she got a taste of someone clicking with them, it wasn’t the same when they fell flat.

But he doesn't want to have anything to do with her. He couldn’t even bother to call. And this is stupid. This is really, very stupid. Why is she even here?

"Sorry, I– I shouldn’t be here, this is stupid, I'm stupid, I'll go now–" She can't meet his eyes as she turns back around, cheeks burning.

This is why no one likes you. It's not enough that you're weird and awkward and rough and just pretty, not beautiful. You don’t think things through and you're scatterbrained and you're so fucking stupid, it's a wonder Randy even put up with you for so long–

"Wait, Marcia!" Marcia's head jerks up to find Two-Bit jogging towards her. "I don't..." His hand comes up – to run through his hair, to touch her face – but stops midway "I don't think it was stupid. You comin' here. I also don't think you're stupid."

He's close to her. Close enough to see unshed tears she hasn't been able to suppress. Close enough to the see the bags under her eyes from worrying about what to do. Close enough for her to count his freckles, if she wanted to. Close enough for anyone walking by to easily misinterpret the scene they're seeing.

Neither of them step back.

"That’s just 'cause o' the aliens controllin' your mind. You ain't worn your aluminum hat today, right?" Her delivery's off and it doesn't land how she wants it to. It's hard for a joke to sound funny when you're holding back tears.

"I think the one thing me an' the aliens can agree on is that you're better'n most of this town gives you credit for."

It isn't the first time Two-Bit's complimented her, – he used far too many stupid pick-up lines that night they'd met, and about the first thing he'd said to her was that she was sharp – but it is the first time he's said it in earnest, not a hint of wit in his tone. She's almost too surprised to remember why she's there.

"The aliens tell ya not to call me, then?" The dust motes of anger are swept up by a gust of wind and concentrated again, building up to their former glory and crashing down in a final show of power. "Or was that all you?"

Two-Bit raises an eyebrow, trying to seem nonchalant. It's strange that she can read him well enough to notice the subtle surprise as easily as if it were written in bold across his forehead.

"That– that was your real number?"

Marcia makes a sound that's something between a bark of laughter and a scoff. "Of course it was my real number. What, you think I'd give you a phony?"

"Oh, like it was stupid to think you wouldn't give a grease like me your number."

"I wouldn't give my number to a grease like Da– that Shepard boy, but I'd say so to his face," Marcia snaps, and Two-Bit winces at her slip-up. "And I most certainly would give a 'grease like you' my number, because I liked you and I said I would, an' for all the stupid rumours you can hear 'bout me, there ain't a single one 'bout me not keepin' my word."

His smile is crooked and he's raised an eyebrow and Marcia knows she's in trouble in more ways than one before he even opens his mouth.

"Liked me? Not anymore, then. I guess you just came all the way 'round here to tell me how much you don’t care about me."

She cracks a grin of her own because maybe she should still be mad at him but how is she supposed to, when there's that gap between his teeth and that sparkle in his eyes and that tilt to his grin? "Yeah. Can't stand ya, actually."

"I reckon I could change that."

Marcia raises an eyebrow. "You do, do you?"

"How's seven this Saturday?"

"You gonna pick me up or am I gonna hafta walk all the way over here again?"

"You gonna give me your real number or am I gonna hafta go to school just to see you again?"

They're smiling so wide they must look insane to anyone passing by, but neither of them minds as Marcia scribbles her number down onto a piece of paper and gives it over to him.

"Don’t lose it this time."

[datvtranscripts]

The Enemy of My Enemy Pt. 1

Varric's Mirror

Signs and Portents Masterpost Previous: Stone Sense

Rook heads upstairs.

Rook: Guess I should find someplace to try to talk to Solas.

They pass by a hallways that was blacked off before.

Rook: Wait. That room wasn’t there before… I don’t think?

They enter a meditation with a couch that faces an aquarium tank. Their pack is sitting on the ground nearby.

Rook: Neve or Harding must've put my pack here. Makes sense. Better place to sleep than the infirmary. Guess I can spare a few moment to unpack my things.

Rook begins to unpack, and places Varric’s Mirror.

Rook: Varric and his life lessons. I asked him how we were supposed to stop Solas, and he gave me this. "Take a long hard look in it, kid. It'll always show the face of a hero who can get it done."

1 - Dialogue options:

Affable: I’m trying to live up to that. [2]

Sarcastic: I look good. [3]

Stoic: Enough reflection. [4]

Sad (Rook has no scars): Nice story, but that’s not me. [5]

(Gender identity options) (Establishes transgender identity and unlocks new dialogue options in future conversations) [6]

(Tattoo options) [7]

(Scar options) [8]

2 - Affable: I’m trying to live up to that. Rook: Varric tells such great stories. It's almost enough to make me think that this time, when I look in the mirror, I'll see a hero. (Sigh) But Varric's hurt, and the team needs me. So chin up, take a deep breath, and get the job done. Scene ends.

3 - Sarcastic: I look good. Rook: A damn good looking hero, if I do say so. Scene ends.

4 - Stoic: Enough reflection. Rook: If I'm the one who's got to get it done, I should stop admiring myself and get to work. Scene ends.

5 - Nice story, but that’s not me. Rook: I don't know if I see a hero's face, but it's a face that has seen a lot. Got a few new scars. Some that show up in a mirror, some that don't. But Varric believed in me then, and he believes in me now. I can do this. Scene ends.

5 - (Gender identity options)

I love who I am. Rook: There [he is/she is/they are]. The [man/woman/person] I knew I was. I did the work, I stuck with it, and now I get to see [him/her/them] every time I look in the mirror. Scene ends.

Feels good to see the real me. Rook: It took a while for me to figure out why the face staring back from the mirror felt wrong. But once I was able to be honest with myself, it was a relief to figure out I was trans. And it's worth it to look in the mirror today and see the [man/woman/person] I am staring back. Scene ends.

I’m getting there. Rook: I don't know, Varric. Catching my reflection still hits hard some days. But knowing who I am is worth it… and every day when I look in that mirror, I'm closer to seeing the [man/woman/person] I want to be staring back. Scene ends.

6 - (Tattoo options)

Tattoos helped me love myself. Rook: I used to dread looking into the mirror. Until I finally got tired of hating what I saw and decided to change what I saw. Now I look in the mirror and see the ink I chose for myself. The me I chose for myself. I don't know if that's the hero Varric was talking about, but it's a start. Scene ends.

My tattoos celebrate success. Rook: Every one of my tattoos is a story. Something I did that's worth remembering. Wonder what I should get when we finish this job. An eluvian? A wolf? I'll figure it out. Scene ends.

I thought hard about these. Rook: Spent so much time figuring out each tattoo. Getting the design right in my head, finding an artist who could make it work. Not to mention holding still the whole time to make sure they'd be perfect. But it was worth it. They're part of me now. The part I made for myself. Scene ends.

Elf: Tattoos matter to us elves. Rook: The vallaslin are sacred for the elves. I didn't grow up Dalish, but they're not the only ones who have a claim on being elven. My tattoos represent who I am, and I'll wear that for all the world to see. Scene ends.

7 - (Scar options)

My scars are badges of honor. Rook: You've got a few scars, but you know what? You earned these in fights that needed to be fought. Hits you took to save someone, shots that knocked you down but didn't keep you down. You are the hero who can get it done. And if you pick up a few more scars along the way, that just proves you were in the fight. Scene ends.

These scars are sexy! Rook: (Chuckle) Honestly, my scars look pretty good. They add character. And you should see the other guy. Scene ends.

Scars are lessons learned. Rook: Funny, Varric didn't mention that hero having so many scars. It's handy. You ever get too full of yourself, you can just look in the mirror, and see every mistake that left a mark. But it's not just about you anymore. Harding/Neve's got a new scar because you sent her into that ritual. So do better. Nobody else should have to wear your mistakes, hero. Scene ends.

Next: Faction Memento

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Daughter of the House of Dreams: A Fragment

Author's Note: This is the opening to a long-abandoned "Sleeping Beauty" retelling that I no longer plan to write, but I still like it as a piece of prose, and it sparked my enduring interest in second-person narration, so it feels relevant, and why should long-dead authors be the only ones who get to have their unfinished fragments published?

If you ever travel to Monetta City, be sure to visit Faraway Lane. Walk past the glittering new shops, and the shoppers in their bright silk dresses and top hats, and you'll find a cozy stone shop at the end of the street. This shop isn't grand and mighty like the other shops. It won't sniff and turn you away if your clothes aren't the latest fashion. It's a grandmotherly old shop that shakes its head at the prancing and preening of the younger shops, and invites you in instead. It holds no wares in its windows; it hardly has windows at all. But it has a warm and wide wooden door, with a shingle hanging above—Alessia Day, maker of dreams.

Don't ponder the sign's message too long—it means exactly what it says. Just slip inside, shut the door behind you, and look. Don't breathe too deeply, unless you want a week of crazy dreams, but allow yourself one gasp of astonishment. You won't be able to stop yourself. No living person has failed to feel awe toward the rows and rows of shelves, longer than streets and taller than palaces, filled to bursting with glass bottles in such bright colors that the dresses in the other shops' windows would weep in envy. Some bottles are the size of thumbnails. Most fit comfortably in the palm. Some are as large as breadboxes or steamer trunks or carriage horses, but the shelves manage to fit them all. And each bottle is filled to the brim with dreams.

If you don't understand, ask Alessia Day. You'll find her at a counter half a mile from the door, polishing bottles and humming a song you've heard but can't remember. She's an old woman now, and proud of it, but squint your eyes and start to daydream, and you'll see her as I remember her—a willow-wand girl with shining brown hair and eyes that sparkle with half-formed jokes.

Tell this girl how pretty she is (she'll laugh and call you crazy) and ask about her dreams. She'll tell you of her stock and sell you any dream you ask for—daydreams and pipe dreams, dreams of love, dreams of adventure, dreams of loved ones lost and loved ones found and people you've never met but wish you had. She'll show you dreams of lush and perfect islands, dreams where fishes fly through the air, and dreams where people swim the seas with fishes' tails. She'll pull down dreams that last a second but linger a lifetime, dreams that fill a month of stormy nights, dreams that fade on waking and dreams that drown out memories. If you let her, she'll talk of dreams until you drift off, and she'll bottle up your dream while you doze.

But if you're smart (I know you are) you'll step to the counter with a clear glass bottle, empty of everything but air, and ask for her story instead. She'd distill it in a dream for you, and be glad to do it—I once saw her whip it up in half a minute, and I'll bet she's even faster now. Buy the dream, but don't drink it right away. You won't be ready for it. Linger in the shop a while. Hear the story first from Alessia Day's lips, in that voice of hers that's sweeter than singing.

You won't believe half of it, but when you stagger from the shop and wander the empty, starlit streets, you'll ponder over passages until you stumble into bed at sunrise. And when you wake, the world will be different—you'll see tiny footprints on the windowsills, know things about the shadows on the walls, tip your hat to creatures in the corner of your eye, and realize there is another color no one else can see. You'll laugh and call it your imagination, but every second Tuesday, you'll start to wonder if the old woman was right, if the things she told you were true.

If you drink the dream she made, you'll know. I'll understand if you don't—some things are easier not to know. But if you do, and dream through her story, come to my house and ring the bell. My man will let you in—he'll know you by the wonder on your face. He'll bring you to my study, set you in my oldest, softest chair, and get us both settled with a steaming pot of tea. Then, once you've finished babbling, I'll close my eyes and tell you my part in the tale.

[wavypotatochips]

omg omg omg i love ur sergios work <33

can i make a request? its my first time requesting something so i dont know if im doing it right but maybe reader being jealous when sergio spends all of his free time with his bf instead of reader but just because sergio wanted to surprise her with like her dream travel so he’s been planning it with his bf? can u make it angsty in the beginning and fluffy towards the end please? thank u if u will accept this<333

𝐒𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬

GIF by sergio-para-siempre

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Sergio Ramos x Female Reader

Word Count : 2.1k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: My allergies have been terrible this week, and I've been sneezing so much that I've been getting headaches, so instead of writing 3-4 request , I was only able to write 2 this week c': hopefully my writing is still good c': ANYWAYSSSS Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, currently covered in college work so as of now uploads will mainly be on weekends. Thank you for your patience c’: ♥

You had been dating Sergio for almost two years now, and things had been going great until recently.

You've been feeling left out and ignored by your boyfriend, Sergio, for weeks now. He's been spending more time with his best friend, Marcos, than with you. Every time you try to make plans with him, he either cancels or tells you he's busy with Marcos. You can't help but feel jealous and wonder what's going on between them.

One day, you decide to confront Sergio about it. You call him on the phone and say, "Sergio, we need to talk. I feel like you've been avoiding me for weeks. What's going on?"

Sergio sighs and says, "I'm sorry, babe. I've been busy with futebol and hanging out with Marcos. He's been going through a tough time, and I want to be there for him." He hates having to lie to you right now, but he wants this surprise to be perfect for  you. His best friend, Marcos, has been assisting Sergio with organizing a week-long vacation surprise for you, which is why they have been hanging out a lot.

You feel your heart sink at his words. You understand that Marcos is going through a tough time, but it hurts to know that Sergio is spending more time with him than with you.

"Can't you make time for me too?" you ask, your voice quivering.

Sergio hesitates before replying, "I'll try, but I can't make any promises. Marcos needs me right now."

You hang up the phone feeling frustrated and hurt. You decide to give Sergio some space and see if he comes around.

Days turn into weeks, and Sergio continues to spend all his time with Marcos. You try to be patient and understanding, but it's hard not to feel jealous and neglected.

One evening as you check through your social media page, you come across a picture that Marcos shared of a boardwalk and crystal-clear water. In Marco's story, you can see that he appears to be in a tropical location, and in the bottom-right corner of the screen, you can see Sergio's tattooed arm. When Marcos posted the image, he must not have noticed Sergio's arm was there.

 Your heart sinks as you realize that Sergio has been keeping a secret from you.  You believe he's been planning a trip with Marcos, and you weren't invited. You assumed he was leaving for a Paris-Saint-Germain away match, NOT going out with Marcos once more.

Feeling hurt and angry, you call Sergio and demand an explanation. "Why didn't you tell me about the trip with Marcos? Why wasn't I invited?"

Sergio hesitates before saying, "I'm sorry, babe. Marcos and I have been planning this for months, and I didn't want to ruin it by telling you." Sergio believed that by speaking the flimsy truth, he would feel better. Of course, Sergio and Marcos have been preparing this vacation for months, but it is not for him and his best friend; it is for you and Sergio. They are at a resort so Sergio can check out the priciest water huts in person to ensure that it will be in top condition for you two.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you try to hold back tears. "So you're saying that Marcos is more important than me? That you'd rather spend time with him than me?"

Sergio's voice grows defensive as he says, "No, of course not. "

"What about me, then? Don't I deserve to feel special too?" you say, feeling your frustration boiling over.

Sergio sighs heavily, the line remains silent.

You shake your head and say, "I don't know, Sergio. I feel like you've been neglecting our relationship lately. I don't feel like a priority to you."

Sergio's voice grows softer as he says, "I'm sorry, babe. That's not it at all.. I promise all of this will make sense soon, okay?"

You feel your heart soften at his words, but you can't shake off the hurt and jealousy you've been feeling. "I don't know, Sergio. I just need some time to think."

Sergio sighs again and says, "Okay, I understand. I’ll be back home in two days, forreal this time. Then we can talk, ok?”

You say "mhm" in response and end the call without caring if it was petty or not. Of course you love your boyfriend, but lately he's been acting in ways that aren't quite to your taste. He generally clings to you and wants to be with you all the time, but during the past few weeks, you have only seen each other twice, which is very out of the ordinary.

Now, two days later, Sergio is finally back home. You're sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you hear the front door open. You look up to see Sergio walking into the room, looking tired but happy to see you.

"Hey," he says, walking over to give you a hug.

"Hey," you reply, hugging him back. "How was your trip?"

"It was good," he says, pulling away from you. "Marcos and I saw some really nice things."

You can't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he mentions Marcos, but you push it aside and try to focus on the conversation.

"That's good," you say. "I'm glad you had a good time."

Sergio looks at you for a moment, as if trying to read your expression. Finally, he speaks.

"Listen, I know we had a bit of an argument the other day," he says. "And I wanted to explain why I've been distant lately."

"Okay," you say, feeling your heart rate speed up a bit.

"It's not because I'm upset with you or anything like that," he says. "It's just that I've been planning something for us."

"Planning something?" you ask, feeling confused.

"Yeah," he says, sitting down next to you on the couch. "Marcos and I have been planning a week-long getaway for us."

"A getaway?" you repeat, feeling your eyes widen in surprise.

"Yeah," Sergio says, smiling. "I wanted to do something special for us, and Marcos has been helping me plan it."

You sit there for a moment, feeling a bit dumbfounded. You hadn't expected this at all. Knowing what he's been up to makes you feel terrible about how you've been treating him. You wish you could take those stinging accusations—along with the caustic attitude that accompanied them— when you practically said he didn't care about you anymore and you felt as though the love was no longer there. You know that you've probably hurt him, and you're filled with regret.

"I...I don't know what to say," you finally manage to say.

"I know we've been going through a rough patch lately because of how busy futebol has been," Sergio says. "And I wanted to do something to show you how much I love you and how much you mean to me."

You look over at him, feeling a lump form in your throat. Despite your earlier anger and frustration, you can't help but feel touched by his words. You're grateful that Sergio is forgiving and understanding. He knows that you're not perfect and that you make mistakes. He loves you despite your flaws, and that gives you hope that things will be okay.

"I...I don't know what to say," you say again, feeling a bit emotional. "That's...that's really sweet of you,” you can't help but feel a sense of joy bubbling up inside you. You had no idea that he was planning something so special for the two of you, and it's clear that he put a lot of thought and effort into making it happen. 

"I'm so sorry that I was acting bitchy towards you. Now everything does make sense," you say, giving him a small smile. "I can't believe you did all this for us."

Sergio grins back at you, looking pleased with himself. "I wanted to do something special for you, mi amor," he says. "Something that would remind us of why we fell in love in the first place."

You nod, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest. 

"So, where are we going?" you ask, feeling a bit of excitement building up inside you.

As he moves closer to you on the couch so you can see his phone screen as well, Sergio takes his phone out of his pocket.

"It's a surprise," he says, grinning at you. "But I'll give you a hint. It involves sun, sand, and lots of relaxation."

You raise your eyebrows, feeling your heart start to race. You still can't believe that Sergio has planned a trip for the two of you, and you can't wait to find out more.

As you watch, Sergio pulls up a page with pictures of a stunning beach resort, complete with crystal clear water, palm trees, and luxurious villas.

"Say hello to our little slice of paradise," he says, pointing to the screen. "We're going to be staying here for a week."

You stare at the pictures, feeling a sense of awe wash over you. "Sergio, this is incredible," you say, turning to him with a huge grin on your face. "I can't believe you did all this for me….. For us!"

Sergio grins back at you, looking pleased with himself. "I wanted to do something special for you, mi amor," he says. "And I wanted to remind you how much I love you."

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest, and you can't help but lean in to give him a kiss.

"I love you too, Sergio," you say, feeling a sense of happiness and contentment wash over you. "But do me a favor," you begin to say, drawing his full attention back to you, "If you ever ignore me again, I'm going to strangle you." He chuckles at your joke before swiftly embracing you and kissing you on the forehead, saying, "I'll never do it again, princess, I promise."

As the days pass, you and Sergio spend your time lounging on the beach, sipping cocktails, and exploring the island. You take long walks along the shore, hand in hand, watching the sun set over the water. You have deep, meaningful conversations about your hopes and dreams for the future, and you laugh and play like you haven't in ages. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and you're able to relax and just enjoy each other's company without any distractions or stresses. As your week comes to a close, you and Sergio sit on your balcony, watching the stars twinkle overhead. You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment and joy wash over you.

"Sergio, thank you for this week," you say, feeling a bit emotional. "It's been incredible." Sergio turns to look at you, his eyes soft. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, mi amor," he says. "I just wanted to remind you how much I love you, and how committed I am to making our relationship work." You nod, feeling a sense of gratitude and happiness. "You know, Sergio, I never doubted your love for me," you say, looking up at him. "But this week has shown me just how much you're willing to do for us. And it means the world to me." Sergio leans in and brushes his lips against yours, sending shivers down your spine. "I would do anything for you, mi amor," he says, his voice low and husky. "I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy." You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed with emotion. You know that things won't always be easy between the two of you, but this moment feels like a turning point. Like you can get through anything as long as you have each other.

As you lean into Sergio's embrace, you feel a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. You know that this week has been just the beginning of a lifetime of love, adventure, and happiness together.

"I love you, Sergio," you say, looking up at him with a soft smile.

"I love you too, mi amor," he says, his eyes sparkling with warmth and affection. "Thank you for giving me the chance to show you just how much."

You snuggle into his arms, feeling a sense of happiness and hope for the future. You know that there will be challenges along the way, but with Sergio by your side, you feel like you can conquer anything.

As the night wears on, you and Sergio talk and laugh, sharing stories and dreams for the future. And as you fall asleep in each other's arms, you know that this week will be one that you'll never forget. A week of love, laughter, and adventure. A week that brought you closer together than ever before.

[greatbritishsimchallenge]

"Cassian! I have amazing news!" beamed Elizabeth.

"Is that so, my love? Pray tell!"

"I'm pregnant!"

Cassian hugged Elizabeth and began to rub his hands over her bump, "How far along are you? This is... a sizeable bump."

"I don't know much about these things, sweetie. Must have been from one of our spirited love-making sessions a while back and it's just taken me a minute to realise."

"But we didn't make love in a manner that could bear children until quite recently?" asked Cassian, confused.

"What are you talking about?" laughed Elizabeth, "We've been at it since long before our wedding day! It's honestly a wonder this hasn't happened already."

"No, but -" Cassian tried to interrupt, but Elizabeth quickly covered him in kisses.

"Oh, you are going to be such a wonderful father, I can't wait! I must dash, sweetheart, I have a riding lesson booked and you know how fussy the squires get if you're late. Honestly, you'd think the mood of the horse was more important than my own!"

Before Cassian could challenge her further, Elizabeth had left.

Cassian sought out Henry to ask his thoughts.

"Perhaps she is right, father. Perhaps you just forgot one of your particular episodes with her? You have been rather active, after all."

"Maybe I am just becoming forgetful in my old age..." Cassian replied, unconvinced. "I'll try talking to her again when she returns from riding."

Hearing that Elizabeth was out riding, Henry quickly shifted tact.

"Although," he added cautiously, "If you are that concerned, I wouldn't wait. Perhaps she didn't feel able to speak openly in the castle - the walls have too many ears. Perhaps in the privacy of the woods she might feel able to be more honest?"

Cassian nodded sombrely, "I suppose... I'll go talk to her. I'm probably wrong, but... something just feels off."

"Better to be sure with these things," Henry agreed. As he watched his father leave, Henry felt a cautious happiness build within him.

Story continues under the cut (NSFW: sex, murder, domestic violence against women)

It took Cassian some time to find Elizabeth. Eventually it was the noise that drew him to her; at first it sounded like the intense rustling of animals fighting, then the noises became distinctly more human and sounded like moaning and groaning. Concerned she might be hurt, Cassian rushed towards the sound and halted to an abrupt stop when he was able to see the source of noise.

Cassian watched Elizabeth rolling around in the grass with her lover, his rage building as she failed to notice that she was being watched. As he watched, he thought of all the times she was with him. With him, sex with her suddenly seemed like an amateur dramatic performance filled with over-the-top cries of pleasure and performative declarations of love. Seeing her with this man, Cassian could see how real and genuine her pleasure was - and that only infuriated him more.

"Elizabeth!"

"Cassian!" Elizabeth pushed the man away from her and lept up, looking frantically around as if for some reasoning she could give to what Cassian had seen. "I... umm... thank goodness you're here! That man attacked me!"

Cassian looked the petrified, naked man once over and saw the way he looked at Elizabeth with eyes filled with hurt and betrayal.

"You're lying. I watched you two together and you were wanting every fucking second," Cassian snarled, before adding to the man, "Get out of here." The man grabbed his clothes and rushed to his horse, galloping off without looking back.

Cassian stepped menacingly towards Elizabeth.

"That baby is not mine, is it?"

"Cassian, darling, of course it is. This was a one time mistake, I -"

"Stop lying to me!" Cassian yelled, grabbing Elizabeth by the throat. "How long have you been lying to me? Did you ever even love me? Or have you just been using me all of this time? You were going to pass another man's child off as mine? You made me think you loved me! How could you do this to me, you evil whore!"

In his rage, Cassian failed to recognise how tightly he gripped Elizabeth's neck, nor how her flails were growing weaker. It was only when her eyes closed and her arms dropped to her sides that he released her. Her dead body fell in a crumple to the floor.

The moment her body fell, all of Cassian's rage left his body and was immediately replaced with sadness.

"What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?" I repeated over and over to himself.

Start (Iron Age) | Start (Roman Britain) | Start (Anglo Saxon) | Start (Medieval) | Start (Tudor)

Previous | Next

[multiverse-imagines]

Its ok!! take as long as you want to read the manga, I really didn't want to spoil any of the content for you so I asked first.

Well if I can request for something (without spoilers I swear)

How would Vash treat someone who appears tough and stoic on the outside but inside is actually a crybaby who usually cries for his safety and worries too much for him? I'm a person without much strong feelings but he makes me cry every time he does something stupid or just bc I love him. Feel free to delete if it makes you uncomfortable, though!

Concept based loosely on the post of Vash "if a man was a rubber chicken" this one kind of veered off the original idea I had, ending up being a bunch of little drabbles in one sort of coherent story. Please enjoy!

I also wanted to post this as a declaration that I've finished the manga! (And let me tell you I am screaming, crying, and throwing up in love and excitement.) You had an ask pertaining to the manga, and I wanted to be able to notify you that I can take requests from the manga with integrity now! Two birds and all that~

Reading between the lines

Your grandmother had always told stories about items that her grandmother had when she lived on Earth. The one that always stuck in your mind was called "A Rubber Chicken." A flailing piece of rubber that made a loud screaming noise, apparently not sounding at all like a real chicken.

It was always something so bizarre about the planet your family, your species, came from. They hadn't found it necessary to make such an item on Gunsmoke, so you were left wondering what an item would be like. 

That was, until you met Vash the Stampede. You were walking home from a day shift at work when you heard gunshots a few blocks down. Crouching by a barrel, a loud thumping was heard in the hardened sand of an alley. A gunshot almost made your ears ring, but it was drowned out by the noise of a screaming, spiraling, red coat that flew past you.

The man inside it almost seemed to slow down in mid air as you took in his features of spiked blond hair, and amazing blue eyes. His mouth hung open as the sound from his mouth seemed to be slowed. He flailed around the corner, only to be caught by one of the Sheriff's boys, and he scrambled off in the opposite direction. Once they all passed yelling something about their six billion double dollars, the street became quiet. 

"…What just happened?" You couldn't tell if you had said those words out loud or not. 

You stood once again, and made your way home. Flicking on the lights of your living room, you found the red coated man sitting on your couch.

"Thanks for leaving your key in an easy place!" He smiled, "say, you're that pretty lady from the alleyway! Sorry for scaring ya! You'll let me crash here until tonight, right?" He was giving you puppy dog eyes that made your heart swell. Did you really have a choice? This was Vash the Stampede. It almost seemed as if there'd be less of a chance that the town would crumble to dust if you just let him be.

"Sure, do whatever, I'm gonna be making dinner soon." You shrugged.

It was that next morning you were run out of town for your one time association with Vash. Luckily he hadn't made it far when he scooped You up on the Tomas he'd gotten, and began dragging you along on his journey. 

You had obviously hated the fact that people were so unwilling to help Vash, that anyone who even associated with him was a target. But if there was anyone you'd be okay with being on the run with, you were happy it was Vash.  Not that you needed to tell him that.

🙏

Despite your inability to show your true feelings, a problem you'd had since your neglectful childhood, Vash seemed to be a master at sussing out your real feelings. He was always able to react based on what you wanted your words to mean, instead of how they sounded to everyone else. 

Stopping in a town, the two of you stopped at a restaurant.

"Hey, I'm short on cash until tomorrow, can you buy us dinner tonight, and I'll buy your drinks tomorrow night?" He pressed his hands together begging; his eyes sparkling as he peeked over little orange glasses.  You couldn't deny the grumbling in your stomach, and you didn't want him to go hungry either.

"Go ahead and order whatever, don't you think for a minute that I'll forget those drinks you're offering in return." You grimaced and scratched the back of your neck, trying to hide you reaction to his cute face.

"Thanks! Well drink and have fun tomorrow night! The bar in this town has the best prices, and quality booze!" He laughed as the waitress returned to take your order.

🍗

During your travels, you got to know the red coated man in ways you didn't think most people ever did. He wasn't some scary blood thirsty typhoon that everyone presumed he was. You remember trying to swat down one of the buzzard-flies, only to have Vash grab your arm at an inhuman speed. 

"Please don't kill it. It's just hungry, like we are." He slowly released your hand and broke off a piece of the cooked meat he had made. The fly buzzed off, content with its meal. The astonished gaze of his inhuman abilities stayed on your face, but your heart swelled at his kindness towards everything, and the fact he shared such a limited supply of food with such a small, seemingly insignificant creature. 

👕

On a night you two had to share a room at an Inn, he finally showed you his scars. Your face couldn't emote the sheer curiosity, worry, and pity that stopped your heart, and strangled your throat. 

"I don't like to show them. It's the kind of thing I don't like pretty women like you to see." He blushed as he dug into his bag to retrieve a shirt from his bag. 

"Well. I don't think you'd be you without those lessons learned, and that would suck." You said harshly as you looked away to give him privacy, but the blush on your face told Vash all he needed to understand. You didn't see the reciprocal blush on his own face. As he slid the shirt onto his torso.

🍻

"Please, listen to me." Vash said, making you hunker down on The basement of a friend's house, "I need you to stay here. This is too dangerous this time. I'll come back for you, I promise." He explained as hastily as he could, curling a lock of hair behind your ear with the exposed finger of his right hand.

"Vash, let me help, I helped last time." You insisted.

"No. Not with my brother around. I… I can't let him get to you." His eyes conveyed such worry that you swore you could see tears pricking his eyes. 

"Make sure you come back to me. You still owe me that drink." Your voice shook for the first time since you were a kid as you felt a tear slide down your face. Vash's face raised in astonishment as he'd never seen you cry before. His face softened to a smile, eyes twinkling with something you could only describe as… love.

"We'll have that drink when I come back." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, "I love you." He whispered as he brushed another stray tear from your face and he slipped up the stairs of the basement and out of the house, leaving you alone.

🤞

You laid in the bed of the Inn, tangled up with Vash, your head on his chest. There wasn't a tense muscle In your body.

"Comfortable, Mayfly?" He asked, his hand rubbing small patterns into your back.

"My arm is asleep." You complained, but nodded as you ignored it and cuddled into him. 

[random-vore-blog]

HELLO- I’ve read every. Single. Story. Aaaandi was wondering if you could mayyybe make genya x y/n one- I dunno, maybe it’s because I fangirl over him.

Sure!

It was cold... very cold. The wind, the night, the forest- it was all but warm. If Rengoku were still alive, you'd be warm from his cape. But... he wasn't alive anymore, was he?

The person you looked up to... he was gone. He wasn't coming back. Never. He was gone, somewhere up there, where the other previous Hashiras were. Maybe some of your family were up there, watching you with proud eyes...

Either you grew tired or it was too cold to move through the snow was still a mystery to solve for later, as you had fallen to your knees, hugging your chest.

Not that it helped much... not when you fell face first in the snow. Your skin was so, so, so so numb. You couldn't feel your face. Your vision blurred, but you swore that you saw a blur in purple and dark grey run towards you.

You knew that you couldn't keep your eyes open for much longer from the cold. But you did not expect to keep them open for this long.

" Gengen?"

You recognized the face that stared at yoi in worry. It was your friend's brother: Genya Shinaguzawa. If Sanemi found out that you were dead when Genya found you, he would be pissed more than usual.

Especially when you consider the bond you had with the Wind Pillar. An... interesting one at that. Not that the other Pillars needed to know his strange way of protecting you.

" Y/n! You are so cold! Cold as ice!"

He panicked, and you had no energy left to panic or move. He grabbed your head and put it on his lap. He had to turn you on your back so that you could face him properly.

" You are going to die if you keep on putting your life in danger like this!"

Despite his scolding, you knew Sanemi would have said the EXACT same words that left Genya's mouth- wait a damn minute.

" Why are your eyes like a demon's? And why do you have sharp canines?"

" ..."

He kept quiet, your eyelids growing heavier as time went on. You swore you saw blackspots dance in your vision and the world become blurry.

" I'll explain everything... just- just stay with me- Y/N!"

You felt yourself slip from consciousness to unconsciousness. A quick switch as if it were from day to night.

---

He panicked. He panicked badly. Not only did his brother's friend fall unconscious, but also the person that he wanted to call sister.

He didn't know what to do... He had killed the demon already after eating some of its flesh and used its bda to kill it.

But... looking at your cold unconscious form, he had no choice but to take you in. Physically. Consuming you...

He shivered at the nere thought of swallowing you whole. He just hoped that the demon's bda came in handy now.

He gently brought your head closer to his jaws, sweat dripping and freezing as he grew all the more nervous.

Slowly, his jaws opened right above your head, saliva a mysterious green colour and tongue glowing a dim pink.

He nrought your head into his mouth, and he didn't feel like it stretched over your head. Maybe it was because you got "smaller the more you entered.

It was like you stayed the same size but not at the same time. It was weird. A weird but useful bda to get you out of the cold.

He shivered before swallowing, the same weird feeling happening. Was it because of the green saliva that dripped on his pants and the weird dim pink glow that illuminated your clothes?

He wasn't sure. He was really not sure. Uncertainty crawled on the back of his mind the more he realuzed what was going on.

Questions came in millions, yet, there were no answers. Like- how was he able to swallow his sister-figure whole without stretching or dislocating his jaw?

He kept swallowing until the rest of you slipped into his stomach. Surprisingly, there was no proof that he had eaten you.

No bulge or dent or anything. That must've been the pros about the demon's bda. Not being able to tell whether there was a victim or not in its gut.

He shivered and stood up. He felt full for sure. That was the only proof that he had eaten you.

" This... this is embarrassing..."

He put a hand in front of his mouth, ears flustered and tinted red. He just did what his aniki did. Just... he wasn't used to it.

" Please don't let aniki get mad at me."

He prayed to whatever god was there, watching and listening to him.

Hope you enjoyed!

[alchemist-of-thebes]

KH OC Week Day 1

Hello! How fun that KH OC Week is finally here! Actually, even though I've known about it since it started, I've never actually taken part in it. But I'm trying it! I'm trying so hard! I've been writing for a very long time, but only started dabbling in KH-related stuff because of @hinataoc. My characters were really originally mostly made to help support her characters and her stories, but the ol' writing bug would bite me every here and there and eventually I started writing little stories and adventures of my own for them. I've got a few now, but this week I think I'll just focus on the two OCs that started this journey for me. So... uh, here we go.

Day 1: Introductions

◾Tell us about your OC!

To start off my first OC Week, I’d like to introduce two of my characters - Velcia and Velcia! …Wait, what?

Yes, I’m afraid that it may seem a bit confusing at first. Both characters share the same name and very similar appearances, but they are in fact very different people! So let me introduce them both and tell you a bit about each one.

First, credit to the amazing @amyhayanora for the wonderful art of these two for me! She did such a good job of bringing them to life.

Now, to get started! On the left we have the first “Velcia”, who lived in Daybreak Town as a Keyblade Wielder up until the Keyblade War.

KHx-Era Velcia:

Her true name is “Valencia Florere”, but when she arrived in Daybreak Town all alone at the age of 3 years old she was unable to pronounce her own name properly. Nobody in Daybreak Town could have known otherwise, and so her mispronunciation “Velcia” was how she was known. For just this one introduction, I’ll use her ‘real name’, though don’t expect her to recognize it!!

As a toddler, Valencia was rescued from the Lanes Between Worlds by The Master of Masters, who did not deem fit to provide to anyone else an explanation of how she ended up there. Not having the faculty to raise a babbling baby, The Master of Masters created a digital data world modeled after Enchanted Dominion. This snippet of a world was completely devoid of danger, and it was here that Valencia was raised alongside a digital Aurora by the Good Fairies.

Pleasant and peaceful though it was, being raised by digital facsimiles of real people does tend to leave one a little odd, and by time Valencia was old enough to leave this fictional nursery she was quite an odd girl indeed.

Shy, awkward, and almost entirely lacking in social skills, Valencia was nonetheless an aspiring artist who quickly honed her craft as she worked to document as many Wielders and events in Daybreak Town as she could as a sort of reclusive self-styled historian. Her fingers and hands usually have pencil smears on the sides from all her drawing. She does wipe them off constantly, but she’s also drawing constantly so it’s a bit of a self-defeating endeavor.

She doesn’t try to be annoying or obnoxious but has a vague sense that there are things that she does that bother other people that she can’t really seem to change. This leaves her with a bit of a lack of confidence, but she’s always so eager to learn more and add more things to her books she pushes past her awkwardness anyway. 

Poor Valencia is terrible at fighting and quite a pushover, who did her best to stick to the periphery and hope nobody would notice her working quickly to sketch them into one of her many books. It wasn’t until she finally met a young man named Balthazar that she was really able to find a stable friend and companion. 

Valencia found she had a strong affinity for the World of Olympus, dearly loving everything about it. Of all the Projected Worlds, Olympus was where she spent the most time and as soon as she was able she bought a set of Olympian Robes from the Moogle in Daybreak Town; but stuck to wearing her more familiar boots, pants, and other various accessories. She didn’t know what her true homeworld was supposed to be, but she hoped beyond hope it could be Olympus.

The events leading up to the Keyblade War were nearly as devastating to Valencia as the War itself, and during the war she was struck with what should have been a fatal blow and left for dead - but a very odd thing happened. An unusual Heartless appeared on the battlefield and whisked her away from the chaos, bringing her to Olympus and healing her before ultimately being destroyed.

Now living on the world of her dreams, Valencia eventually managed to put the traumas of her past behind her and start a family. Her now-powerless Keyblade and the name “Velcia” were both passed down through the generations, and each time one “Velcia” passed away the next-born daughter received the name and the heirloom Keyblade, and after some time that brings us to…

KHII-Era Velcia

Velcia Anthes, daughter of Hephestus and Ioanna Anthes, was raised in Thebes as a Potion-Maker and Alchemist by her father after her mother mysteriously vanished when she was two years old. Named after her Keyblade-Wielding Ancestor from her mother’s side, Velcia received the Heirloom Keyblade and grew up hearing stories of wielders from her grandmother and marveling at the tales.

Coming from a family of scholars on her father’s side, Velcia is keenly interested in learning everything she can about the fundamentals of both magic and potion-making; and her devotion to learning magic hit an all-time high after her father and cousin were killed by Vanitas during the events of KH:BBS. 

After this, she was taken in by her aunt and uncle who helped her to stay strong and focus on her studies as they worked together to overcome the pain of losing their loved ones. Thanks in no small part to their support and the integrity of her father, Velcia is kind, graceful, and has every bit of the elegance that her KHx-era ancestor lacked; but most of all she is driven and determined to help anybody she can, especially if it means they can avoid the sorts of losses she dealt with growing up.

Thanks to time spent participating in events at the Coliseum when she was younger, Velcia combined her effective if rudimentary physical fighting skills with her growing array of spells to become a competent red mage who was very confident in her magic abilities. In her mid-twenties during the events of KHII, Velcia thought that her life as a potion-maker was perhaps all she would ever be.

One fateful day she meets a visitor from another world named Samantha, and almost the next thing Velcia realizes she’s being asked to come use her magical powers and knowledge to help Sam and Hinata chase down a dangerous Replica called Thaanix. This, it turns out, is only the start of her adventures…

--------

That’s about it for my introductions! I will include answers for both Velcias going forward for the rest of the week, but will likely have more information and pictures posted for the Modern-Era Velcia as I have more stories and art for her. Truth be told, the picture above is really the only proper picture of KHx-Era Velcia I have! Thank you for reading these little bits about my characters, I really hope you’ve enjoyed them.

Anyone who would like to read any of the stories I've written can find them either on my AO3, or on @hinataoc's Fanfiction.net page (which also has a plethora of other very good stories by her that you should check out). Archive of our Own Fanfiction.net

In addition, I have been in the middle of posting a new story about the Modern-Era Velcia called "Return to Eos", with a new chapter posted every weekend. I'm trying to post a little snippet of the chapters here on Tumblr as they go up, so if you are interested you can keep an eye out for those, too. Lastly, thanks very much to the @khoc-week crew (small as it may be this year) for hosting this event. :D

[vizthedatum]

cw: a huge vent

Yeah, I woke up early, felt ok physically (was slightly flaring yesterday but I had a really nice time with my gf and it really made up for all of it haha), and then went down memory lane and started crying.

Then, I ate ice cream for breakfast.

Facepalm.

Today, I'm supposed to start a whole new regimen of supplements and meds (I'm still not on as many prescription meds as I've typically been, and I'd like to see how much I can keep it that way). I have my medication pill organizer all organized! I've written out notes and schedules for myself: morning, afternoon, evening, emergencies, morning routine, nighttime routine, grocery lists, etc.

*cries*

I know I will adhere to this - I am trying to give myself so many chances to succeed in life - I WANT TO LIVE FOR MYSELF.

--

I feel so stupid for falling in love with the people of my past.

I feel so stupid for making so many mistakes.

Every day I wonder if I'm just a bad person.

I still apologize for a lot of my unmasked traits.

I am still regretting my poor behavior with a lot of people.

Was I a lousy spouse? Was I a bad child? Am I the actual abuser in all of this?!

What could I have done to make it better??????????

Should I have just stayed quiet - ignored things until I vanished?

--

Sometimes, I wonder if I actually did kill Pri (dead-nickname and the name I used to go by) - what if I killed her so that she didn't have to live through the complex web of lies that she had created for herself?

I GAVE ALL OF THEM SO MUCH BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT.

I know that I've just recycled parts of her instead - recycled her into who she wanted to be: me.

I'm not plural, but having had PTSD and undiagnosed autism and ADHD for so long... it feels so jarring to be more authentic.

It's so jarring to heal.

--

And what about everyone that Pri loved???

I've often said in this blog that I've been reevaluating everyone Pri loved. I told my therapist last week that I don't regret cutting all the friendships/relationships off from the last year EXCEPT FOR ONE. (Edit: in the end, I have to admit - that situationship or whatever wasn’t really respectful to me - and while I enjoyed aspects, it was a joke of what I truly deserve)

I was so fucking caught up in my trauma that I just couldn't handle it - and I hurt someone I really cared about. I keep telling myself that they didn't even really care about me - but I'm sure they did, at least as a friend or a person in their life.

That relationship made me question a lot, but I was already questioning many things.

That relationship made me realize how poorly I valued myself and how badly I misjudged the toxic way I was attracted to other people.

That relationship wasn't what made me leave my ex-spouse, even if we had arguments about it.

My ex-spouse is why I left my ex-spouse.

The more I live by myself and reconnect with my hobbies, spirituality, friends, healthy depictions of love, etc. - the more I realize how UNSAFE I was.

I still weep at pictures of myself from 2019-2022.... how could someone who claimed to love me let me be in such disarray?

How could I have married someone in the midst of chaos, arguments, debates that were clearly meant to defeat me every time, psychological violence, etc.?!

Why didn't I just BREAK UP WITH THEM AND KICK THEM OUT YEARS AGO - instead of having the stupidest marriage where I was the only active participant, living in a dangerous and toxic environment, and being in financial devastation?

I am still recovering from the financial blow I took when I left them in 2022. Before I left, I barely had any credit card debt (I did have a lot of student loans but that is a whole other story - plus I had qualified for loan forgiveness before that was nixed by our government), my credit score was amazing, and I was going to try to recover from burnout (I AM STILL IN BURNOUT)....

I have no idea when I'll be able to really recover - I am trying to figure it all out, and of course, I have a plan (I must - I keep having to be forced into it - and I fucking like having a comfortable life)... but I wonder, when will be the day when I can't just do it anymore?

When will I be unable to "hack" life?

Will I relapse into my codependency and end up with immature partners who expect me to push through my autism and various other disabilities to the point of me completely falling apart while they yell at me about how ungrateful, selfish, and insecure I am?

Will I just be perpetually used as a sex object until people think I'm too ugly and too annoying to be used any further?

--

I have had to heal from who I was to figure all of these questions out. I wasn't in great long-term relationships before this one, and there were reasons for it.

I am investigating the why - I am trying to feel the emotions - I am trying to confront my own "shadows" - I am trying so hard.

I am also just trying to live life every day.

I am trying to do better on so many fronts now.

[micalpixel]

May Flowers Game - September 2024 Progress Report

Another month comes and goes, so here's another update on my May game.

Lore and Plot

So... I don't have anything visual to display this month, sadly. I kinda spent an entire month working on lore and plot. :D I keep looking at the layers the game has so far. Characters, sidequests, themes... And little by little, I keep finding new ways to connect them. May's afraid of heights. But why? Well, there's now a reason. And it links to something else that until now, was completely unrelated. Plot holes get filled in, rough edges are ironed out. I'm happy with how things are progressing. I feel as though all of the biggest, most important pieces, are now in place.

One reason this has been taking a while is... well...

When I worked on the puzzle mechanics, I cut out a lot of ideas. Because it was too much for a first game. I wanted an upper limit on the insanity. So, some neat ideas were shelved. Even though they very closely complemented the ideas I WAS going to use.

And when working on the plot, there were also some ideas which, in my opinion, are really cool. But completely clash with what I'm doing for this game.

But I still kept thinking about those things. And kept having new ideas for them, and developing them. Writing down ideas as they game. Seeing ways they connected to the ones I WAS going to use.

Long story short, I realized two months ago that there's enough ideas here for three sequential games involving May. And I've been working with that target in mind. Three games that each tell very different stories, but are still connected, each with very different goals, and each telling a larger story about May and the people she meets.

It's kinda embarrassing, and reeks of arrogance. Planning three games before I've even finished one game. But I'm just too excited to do otherwise. The idea's been planted. And in fact, it won't require very many changes to the first game at all, other than leaving a few (seemingly unimportant) loose ends to resolve later. (No cliffhangers, I swear!) So I figure, why not?

And actually, the beginning and ends of all three are already set in stone. I know how each one will start, what each one's tutorial "level" will be, and how each one will end. The most important parts of the plot are, well, done. And now it's just the filler that remains. The minor characters, the sidequests, etc. Everything after the first hour of each game and before the last hour. Which, by comparison, should be a lot more flexible since they're not as important to the overall plot. I feel like this is very doable. My main focus will 100% be on the first game though. I will not be doing ANY work on the next two other than lore and plot, since those could impact the first game in small ways.

Graphics

I've been mulling over the game's graphics style. Although I love the very-limited-color palette look, I also wonder if the game would be more enjoyable and colorful if I let myself use a bit more color. Keep the same character sizes, but try to make the colors pop. I've seen some games use an art style like that, and I do wonder if it would be better to go that route.

I had intended to participate in Drawtober 2024, to experiment with different pixel art styles, every day, trying out different things, using my own 31 prompts.

But work has been much more stressful than usual this month. I feel very tired. I'd wanted to get other drawings done before October, and wasn't able to do that. So, I don't know. I really do want to experiment with that though. Maybe once these other WIP art pieces are done, I'll get to that. A late Drawtober, maybe. We'll see....

Closing

Thanks for reading! Sorry it's not a very exciting update. I do still work on this game a little very day. After four months, my excitement for this game has only increased, and I'm very happy about that.

[armpirate]

UNDER HIS SKIN || JJK || Ch. 16

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: They say there are two versions for every story, and it's important to hear both of them. Everybody is hearing your side of the story, but it's just fair to get to know his.

After breaking up with his girlfriend, the only thing he wanted was to have fun with no attachment. You wanted to get rid of your virginity, and he wanted to tick you off his list. What he didn't expect was getting so emotionally attached to you that he would regret the deal.

Warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, dirty talk

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

I don't know at what moment we grew closer to each other, but it just happened. But texts and calls were more usual at some point. Actually, it was weird if we went a day without texting each other. Thinking of it right now... I don't think we've gone a day without talking to each other at all.

Just yesterday we were hanging out at her house because I had no customers and she wasn't going to work yet. With no deep reason at all, nothing related to the deal. We just hung out and spent some time together.

She frowns when she isn't able to tell who's the person calling her while we both were trying to guess who was the murderer in that episode. I mute the whole thing, just so she's able to speak and understand everything the other person is saying, when I realize the call might last longer than just a few seconds.

Y/n first frowns, but soon her face lights up and she literally jumps over the couch to get something to write on.

—Thank you so much —I hear her say excitedly, while her back is turned at me—. Thank you so much! —she repeats— I'll see you tomorrow.

She jumps excited in that spot, her oversized t-shirt bouncing with every move, until she turns to me again with a wide smile.

—What was it? —I ask when she doesn't say a word.

—Hmm —she walks back to the couch—. You might be talking to the future designer in JP Motors.

I remember how excited she looked when she first received the call, and how soon all that excitement turned into anxiety and nervousness because she thought she wouldn't be able to pass the interview.

And probably that's why I couldn't help but think about it all morning. The client I'm tattooing hasn't spoke a single word in the four hours I've been tattooing his leg, which makes me wonder if he had fallen asleep. When I peek, trying to see a glimpse of his face, he caught me on the spot.

—Is everything okay? —I rush to ask, trying to hide the fact that I was indeed looking at him out of curiosity.

The man plays with his long beard, nodding. His rough expression doesn't really tell me much. There's no pain, no suffering. So I guess everything is indeed okay.

Before I go back to the tattoo, I look at the digital clock hanging over the mirror in my room. Y/n must be in that interview already...

—Give me one second.

Again, the man doesn't say anything, he just nods and lets me go. Rolling on the chair a few meters away, I stand up and turn to my phone placed on the desk I usually work at when Y/n isn't around. I know it's too early to ask, but I ask her how the interview went, after I send her a "Good luck" sticker -there's only a few seconds of difference between each message, but meh.

Going back to work, I give the tattoo the final details before it's finally done.

—What do you think? —I ask, when he stands up and looks at himself in the mirror.

Puckering his lips, that are barely visible over his thick red beard, he finally nods and raises his thumb. No word again.

I invite him to lead me outside so he can pay for the service, but my phone shakes in my hand when I'm about to cross the door. I see Y/n has replied to my text after thirty minutes, so probably she's done with her interview already.

As soon as I see Mark resting on the counter, I encourage the client to get to him since he'll be the one in charge of the transaction.

—Cool —he finally says.

I'd be freaking out by hearing his voice for the first time in five hours, but I'm too focused on the phone that it seems it might melt if I don't read her text as soon as possible. Carefully, I close the door to my room and rest my body back on the chair I've been sitting on for five hours.

Cocktease: Seems like I'll be serving drinks a little longer

Me: Their loss

Cocktease: Thats what losers say to comfort themselves

Me: I was just tryna be nice 🥺

And while it's true, I don't want her to overthink what happened. Sometimes, some opportunities just aren't for you, and it doesn't mean you're bad or anything. It just means that wasn't the chance you should take.

Cocktease: What is Mr. Nice doing?

Although that text makes me smile, I know it wasn't because of it, but everything that's behind it. Her cocky attitude and ironic smile while she was typing those words after I made the last comment.

She asks, and I do. I send her a picture of where I am, but of course that isn't enough for me. Because right after I send the pic, I open my contacts list -although I don't need to look too much because her name is at the top of the list, on the "Favorite contacts" list, in between my sister and Tae.

—I've been tattooing a cobra for almost five hours —I comment as soon as she picks up.

—Cobra as in the tattoo or a body part?

—Oh... Oh —I lower my voice when I understand the meaning of her words—. Dirty mind, I see. There's no better way to cope with rejection.

When I turn to look at myself in the mirror, I find my reflection with a stupid smile that makes me cringe as soon as I'm aware, and that suddenly disappears.

—You know what's better to cope with rejection? Not being reminded you were rejected —she sighs—. But thank you for trying.

Looking away from my reflection after I hear her say that, I feel bad for her. She seemed so excited yesterday when she got the call, just to be rejected the next day.

—So... are you done? —she asks out of nowhere— I mean, do you have more customers?

We haven't known each other for too long, but by the tone in her voice, I know she doesn't really care. And I understand that, she's just trying to divert the topic from something that hurt her, and I don't doubt to play along.

—Not until four —I groan, as I feel the muscles on my back stretch as I sit properly—. I think I'll go to the gym, grab something for lunch and come back. Mark is here anyway. What about you?

—I'll prepare lunch and get ready for work.

—I thought you were on your off day.

—I wish —she laughs—. Still three days left for my weekend. But it's alright, I could be doing worse.

I'm about to cheer her up, but she cuts me up before I'm able to speak. Y/n lets me know she needs to hang up, and before I can even say goodbye, I hear that annoying piping on the line.

✸ ✸ ✸

I get off work quite early, and my plan is going directly back home. No stops anywhere. Just head straight back home. But something makes me shift my plans. I sit on my motorbike, one foot on the pedal and the other finding balance on the pavement, when I remember the sound of her voice earlier today. For the past twenty minutes I was able to get rid of her, but now that I'm alone again, I go back to thinking too much about it -just like I've been doing all day since I called her.

Fuck, I shouldn't have called her.

I try to think how I can comfort her. And my mind is only able to think about sugar. It's what cheers me up when I'm off, so maybe it'd help her, too.

A quick stop at one of those gummy shops, and I have a plastic bag filled with any type of sweets. At first, I think of picking her up at work, like I've already done a few times, but I remember that Tam might be there tonight, and it'd be weird if I show up there for no reason at all -other than seeing Y/n.

So I make my way to her house, and decide to wait for her there -which is another bad idea, since she won't get there until she's done with work, and that could end up with me waiting for her for three hours.

But I don't really mind it.

I get to her floor, after I made my way inside thanks to one of her neighbors coming out as soon as I arrived, and just sit on the stairs next to her door. It's my time to level up on the games I've left aside for weeks -or months.

I have no idea how long I'm playing, sitting there. And I've lost count of all the times I looked to the other side of the stairs, excited every time I heard footsteps somewhere. Until one of those footsteps is indeed hers.

Y/n is looking down, dragging her feet over the last step of the stairs, with a tired expression letting me know she's had a rough day. Although it disappears as soon as she looks up and finds me. Her lips pucker, and her head is slightly tilted as she tries to question why I'm standing in front of her door.

—You sounded off on the phone this morning —I start explaining before she can even ask—. So I bought some sweets —I raise the plastic bag filled with striking coloured candy—, and drove here.

Something in the way she looks at me shifts when I say all that. Her eyes soften to my comment, and a tiny smile appears on her face -something that would be impossible to notice for someone that doesn't know her.

After I come in, I close the door behind me and just follow her around, although she disappears shortly after to get changed. I set everything, moving the table a bit forward so I can sit on the floor, and use the couch as a backrest.

When Y/n joins me, she sits on my right.

—There was this movie announced the other day —I bring it up, when I think she's about to speak about that damned interview—. Let's watch it.

Truth is, I did see it announced the other way as I was zipping through channels, trying to find something nice to watch. The topic of the movie aligns with what we have going on, and it's a nice movie that will help her think about something else.

—Have you come over to do a teaching class?

She jokes, and I'm completely aware that she's looking at me with one of those killing smiles.

I shush her, avoiding making any type of eye contact with her, while my eyes are fixed on the TV in front of us.

Although I've tried my best to keep the focus on the screen, because I came here just to cheer her up, I can't help but turn my face to her a few times. The move of her lips as she chews on the gummy bear, how she traces her lower lip with her tongue when she's done... All of her is driving me insane. So when she picks up the gummy bear with her left hand, I move faster and hold her wrist between my fingers, redirecting her digits to my teeth so I can take the gummy bear away from her.

—I've only eaten two of...

I don't let her say anything else, because my lips collide against her before she's able to say anything else, moving the gummy bear from my mouth to hers as we kiss. She lowly gasps, and the way she sucks on my lower lip when I break the kiss just screams how she doesn't give zero fucks about the movie and just wants the kiss to keep going.

I go back to my place, thinking that a kiss would be enough for me. Oh, but how wrong I was... The taste of her spit mixed with the pineapple taste of the gummy bear was way too good to be able to think about anything else.

But she's able to make me think about something else when we reach the part of the movie where Gerard Butler confesses why he doesn't do relationships, and I feel her eyes falling on me instantly -even if that wasn't her intention.

—You want to know, don't you? —I turn to her with a funny smile, although deep inside I'm praying she doesn't make me talk about it.

—No —she frowns, and shakes her head—. But... if you feel like sharing.

And that's a yes.

I chuckle, finding her cute although I'm going to open up about something that fucked me up for months. I turn to her, knowing damn well this will be the most vulnerable I'll feel with a woman that isn't my sister.

—It was just one.

Leslie.

I tilt my head as her voice starts sounding real, as if she were begging for me to forgive her right now, while she started picking her things up from our shared apartment. I try to sum up everything that happened in a matter of ten minutes, and later two rough days, into a short sentence that won't last even a second.

—And she cheated on me. I loved her more than she loved me. Simple as that. After five years of dating, instead of breaking up with me, she started seeing one of my customers. She only said she didn't want to hurt me, but she wasn't feeling the same way. Living together, working together... It wore her out.

Sometimes I wonder if I was too oppressive, if I lost her because I didn't give her enough space and that's why she felt the need to find that space somewhere else. If everything that happened in those five years, and our routine, was the only thing at fault for the distance that grew in between us and that led her to mess with some other guy.

When I look up, I see Y/n totally lost in her own thoughts. Eyebrows frowned, and lips forming a thin line, as she probably tries to find some sense in what happened.

—Chill, cocktease. Last time I saw that look, you threw a shoe at my head —I click my tongue—. And it's not like you have any reasons to be looking this way.

—I'm just annoyed. That's it —she shrugs—. I can't stand lies, and I always get worked up when something similar happens in movies or shows.

I guessed so.

—You look cute when you're annoyed —I move my thumb across the frowned space between her eyebrows, trying to make those wrinkles disappear.

—Huh, so that's why you always try to piss me off.

I think... But I'm not actually thinking about what she's just said. I'm thinking about how close we are right now, and how tempting her lips are looking right now.

Fuck it.

I lean a bit more, enough for my lips to cover hers again gently, although she doesn't seem to want to go slow by the way she pulls me by the neck and hides her fingers in between my locks, giving me goosebumps that run all over my spine.

The kiss is sloppy and messy, but she tastes so good, she feels so good I can't stop right now. I only break the kiss to talk to her, and make her the question we both want to hear at this exact moment. I can tell she's afraid of what i'm about to say when I break the kiss, but her looks change as soon as I speak.

—Can we go to your room? —I ask with a raspy voice.

I want it to happen, I want to do everything to her right now. But, at the same time, I'm scared she isn't sure and might regret what happens. And that sensation seems to grow bigger when we are both standing in front of her bed.

Those lips and tongue on my neck feel like a hot iron tracing my skin. I'm trying hard to control myself when one of her hands goes from my shoulders -where she was supporting herself on, as she stood on her tiptoes- to my pants to unzip them. I help her, bending to take my pants off, and my sweatshirt shortly after.

Her tongue traces her lower lip as her eyes disseminate my body, and I can't wait to look at her the same way.

I step closer to her, able to kiss her cheek and jaw softly, as I get rid of her comfy shirt. And no one's skin has looked so bright and delicate as hers. I trace her collarbone, moving my digit down her chest -in between those covered tits I'm desperate to suck on-, and going lower to her pants after controlling myself like I've never done before.

I do just as she did. I tower over her, leaning my body slightly to reach her earlobe -moving her locks behind her ear-, so I can play with all the sensitive spots she seems to have there. Just a gentle touch from my fingers and she's already gasping for air.

—Wait —she stops me, when I finally get rid of her pants—. I know it'll sound dumb, but I don't...

—You aren't ready? —I finish for me—. It's okay —she stops me from stepping back, holding my arm.

—It's not that. I'm not ready for that.

I see her moving her head, trying to let me know what she means, although I'm kinda clear on what she's talking about. Of course she isn't ready to fuck yet.

—But I want to do something else. I want you to touch me —she whispers, some tints of shyness adorning her words—, and I want you to teach me how to touch you.

I think I know what we could do, so I point with my head towards the bed. Even if she seems to be okay with it, I still ask her many times whether she's ready or not, always making sure she knows she can stop whenever she feels like it.

—If you want to stop, just say it, okay? —I let her know, as I see her lying in the middle of her bed.

I join her, kneeling in front of her body when she finally nods. But it's not until she starts stripping that I'm aware that maybe the one that isn't ready it's me. Y/n takes her bra and panties off calmly, breathing turning heavy when she finally looks at me with her cheeks slightly blushed. I can feel my dicks twitch inside my boxers when I see her perking nipples on full display, just imagining the rugosity of her buttons is driving me crazy. And that mixed with the fact that her legs are still rubbing closer, hiding her core from me... I don't think I'm strong enough.

I get naked with her, taking off my boxers under her attentive gaze. Her eyes go a bit wide when she finally sees me completely naked, and her lips travel in between her lips to wet them. I move her right thigh lower so I can straddle it, and finally catch a glimpse of her wet pussy.

I hold my cock with my left hand, while the other one massages her left thighs, pushing it away so her legs are completely spread and she's finally open for me.

—Put your fingers around me.

I try not to choke on my own spit when I finally feel her fingers around me. And even if I want her to move it, I stop her to spit close to her fingers so she has some lube to work on. I motion her hand under mine on my cock, letting her know how to start, how to make me feel good. Y/n is so distracted from pleasuring me, that she isn't aware of how close I'm getting to her core until my palm is completely covering it.

My fingers slide through her folds, from her entrance to her clit, spreading her juices before I start teasing it with two of my fingers.

—Have you ever touched yourself? —she nods.

My fingers go down her pussy again, finding her tight hole. I tease her, moving my digit in circles to get her ready, until she lifts her hips and commands me to invade her. The moment I slide in, her fingers wrap around my shaft tighter, making both of us moan.

Her walls embrace my fingers perfectly, and I can tell she has never done much more than fingering herself with one finger -or, at most, two- when touching herself.

—You're so tight —I groan, sliding my finger until it's knuckles deep inside her.

I move in sync with her hand, giving to the both of us the best simulation, it almost feels as we were fucking each other right now. The pleasure in her eyes, when Y/n finally looks at me is indescribable.

I stretch her out, enough to add a second finger that makes her lips press on each other harder, the moan getting stuck in her throat.

—You're working on my cock so well —with my free hand, I reach her face, my thumb pushing her lower lip so her mouth is parted and I can hear her gasps—. Let me hear you. Let me know how good I'm being to you.

My left hand travels from her jaw and neck to her tits, touching them as gently as I'm able to right now, while my fingers curl inside of her. I finally hear a moan from her, that only encourages me to keep moving on that spot a few more times. Her legs spread wider, and her thigh caged between my legs rubs and pressed against my balls. And fuck ain't that hot. And she knows it, because she keeps that pressure and moves on my loaded balls while her hand moves faster on my cock.

—Jungkook —I move my fingers faster, making the wet sounds that come from her pussy completely audible for the two of us—. Fuck, you're so good.

Her pussy clenches around my fingers after a few more minutes, and I know she's about to get there. I want her to get there. My thumb works on her needy clit, while my fingers thrust into her fast, making her tits bounce with the movement.

She lets a loud moan fill the room when she cums, back arching and eyes going blank as her free hand holds onto the sheets while the other holds onto my cock. And that image is the only thing I need to cum all over her.

—Oh fuck —I moan.

But after a few seconds enjoying the feeling of my high, and her hand still on my cock, I'm aware that I've actually cummed all over her, my load is on her belly.

—Oh fuck —I repeat, but this time I'm concerned.

I move away from her, taking my fingers out as carefully as I can before I get to her bathroom. I first clean my fingers, and walk back to her.

—I'm sorry —I apologize, joining her on the bed again.

—It's alright —she assures me, while I start cleaning her up—. It's okay —she says again, before I'm able to speak.

—You were really good —I wipe the toilet paper over her sensitive core, the gentle rub making her body shake slightly while I clean her up.

Everything is fine until this time comes. I threw the paper away, and it's time to throw myself away as well.

Should I get home? Should I spend the night here? I know that's a really bad idea.

She wouldn't be the first girl I spend the night with, and wake up next to, but something about her being the girl I'd wake up next to makes me feel uneasy. It gives this whole thing a whole new level of intimacy I don't think I'm ready to reach, which is ironic considering my fingers were deep in her not even five minutes ago.

—You can stay the night —she assures me.

I'm about to agree, but I just shake my head and start picking my clothes up. I'm running away again.

—It'll be better if I sleep back home —I dress up.

I know she's confused about this, I'm confused about this myself, but I think it's the best for the two of us. I walk to her, and lean over her body to kiss her head before I leave.