#The work pants are technically at least a size too small but I managed to fully zip and button them so

[sleeperagentclone]

Going to my first concert tommorow, I've identified my coolest shirts and pants but I still don't know what to wear

Mutuals pls help

We got diy wolf tank top with either loud ass shorts or brown work pants (with oversized flannel??)

Diy cat tank top (flannel????)

Oddly specific vintage baseball tee

I'm gonna wear my brown docs and some gay socks no matter what

This is who I'm seeing if that's relevant

[msmarvelwrites]

Make Your Mark On Me

Summary: 'if you stepped through that threshold, the comfort of friendship would be something not so easily retrieved again.'

Pairing: Sam Wilson x agent!reader

Warnings: friends-to-lovers, angst, Explicit sexual content, Oral (f receiving), fingering, vaginal penetration, size kink, Sam has shmeat.

Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: Words cannot describe what this man does to me. Sam Wilson, sir, thank you for your service. And thank you @sweeterthanthis for all her help and support✨🖤

The crystal chandelier bounced iridescent sparkles through the bustling ballroom, shimmers of glimmering light twirling around as if you were in a kaleidoscope. You scanned the area, careful to not make your presence known. You were meant to blend in -- to fade away into the background. It was a job you had done easily for years.

You were never meant to leave your desk. Infact, when you had agreed to take the job as the Avenger’s personal technical analyst in the first place, your only request was to never see any real action. You were more than happy to stay put, in the ears of your colleagues rather than actually holding the gun.

Your job was safe, predictable, routine.

That was until Sam Wilson came crashing into your life.

The mission, for anyone qualified, would have been easy. Dress up, play pretend, hack into a terrorist database…

Okay, that part you could do with your eyes blindfolded. Though, that wasn't the point.

“Don’t suppose you know who I’m supposed to be looking out for?” You spoke under your breath into the small comm snug in your ear. You stumbled for a moment, the heels Nat made you wear proving to be less than ‘easy-peasy’ as she so casually put it.

“Big guy in the corner.” Sam echoed in your ear. “And may I just say, you are looking gorgeous tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, as if he was standing right beside you and not somewhere blended into the crowded room.

“We’re working, Wilson. Besides, I know you're out there charming the pants off of some model.” You retorted, the remark intended to make him laugh but he only scoffed, as if the idea wounded him.

“Babygirl, you think so little of me. I’d much rather take your pants off.” Sam’s words were smooth, well rehearsed and at this point, expected.

It’s the way it had always been between you two. Of course, you’d never let anything come of the innocent banter, except the occasional burning cheeks and lingering touches. Sam was your best friend, and that was how it was always going to be.

Besides, Sam Wilson could, and had on many nights, pulled any woman he set his sights on. You weren't about to be added to the ever growing list of women that hobbled out of his bedroom at three in the morning.

“Well, jokes on you. I’m not wearing any.” You mentally facepalmed yourself for the awful retort, a smile pulled across your lips at the melodic sound of your friends' laugh.

“Grab a drink, gorgeous. Loosen up for me.” He cooed, his tone playful as you swiped a champagne flute off a passing waiter. “The office you want to get to is upstairs. Last door on your left. You can meet me around back when you’ve secured the file.”

You nodded your head, bringing the glass to your lips and letting the liquid quell your nerves. You could do this.

Easy in and out.

Carefully you made your way through the crowded room, hyper aware of your surroundings as you quietly slipped through the masses. You smiled politely at a group of men who let you through, though it didn't go unnoticed how one of the strangers lingered their hands on your hips a little too long as you slid by.

“Don’t be nervous. I got you.” Sam’s words caught you off guard, the earnest in them causing you to fumble with your retort.

“You watching me, Wilson?” You mumbled, making your way up the stairs and towards your mission. It was almost over.

“Told you before we left, I’m not letting you out of my sights.” Sam chuckled softly, adding, “I got eyes everywhere baby. Your ass in that dress, by the way-”

“Watch it Sam.” You warned, but you couldn't help the smile that formed on your mouth, his words warming your cheeks. Because with Sam it never felt like objectification. With Sam there was always so much kindness behind his words, you almost took it for honesty.

Which, of course, it couldn't be.

“Okay, I’m at the door. How do I-”

“Is the little lady lost?” A deep gruff voice startled you as you spun on your heel only to come face to face with the same handsy stranger.

You cleared your throat, shaking your head quickly and trying to steady your voice. “N-no, sir. Just looking for the washroom.” You answered a little too quickly. There was radio silence on Sam’s end, and that made you a little nervous.

“Sir? I like the sound of that. Why don’t I escort you, and you can come up with a way to replay my kindness when we get there?” He toyed with the idea, his words crass as he gripped your forearm.

“Uh- no thank you. I can find my own way.” You stuttered, suddenly aware of how alone you truly were in this dark hallway with him.

“It wasn't a question.” He snarled, pulling you against him but before your body could even collide with his, he was on the floor.

You opened your eyes, a very worried Sam standing where the stranger once was. His eyes scanned you for a moment before he realized how startled you truly were.

“Did he touch you?” He spoke, and though he meant well, his tone came out dark. It was a side of Sam you very seldom saw, and now, watching his jaw click back and forth into place, you couldn't help but shiver. The stranger was lucky he only knocked him out.

“Only here,” You rubbed your arm where he had grabbed you and instantly Sam pulled you against his body, his hands running small circles in your back. “I’m fine, Sam. Really.”

Sam chuckled softly, pulling himself out of his rage and back to you. “Course’ you are. That’s my girl. Now let’s finish this thing and get you home.”

After you hacked into the computer database and retrieved the file your team needed, you and Sam slipped into the small black car. The ride home was one filled with silence and though it was usually comfortable with your friend, this time was anything but.

“He really didn't hurt me.” You finally spoke, trying and failing to reassure the nervous man.

“I know, but-” He began, but you squeezed his hand, the touch shutting him up instantly. If only it was always that easy. You chuckled softly at the thought.

“Baby, you had my back. Just like you said you would.” You bolstered, your eyes fleeting from his only for a moment as they landed on his lips. You mentally shook your head, averting your gaze to his lap, which wasn't really much better.

This strange warmth that began pooling in your stomach coaxed you into an unease you couldn't shake until you got back to the compound. Sam walked you to your room, resting on the door frame as you shuffled in, your eyes trained on the floor.

There was something different brewing between Sam and you tonight.

Something you had buried deep down and seldom let out. Maybe for fear of rejection, but deep down you knew he would always let you down easy. So perhaps it was the notion that, if you stepped through that threshold, the comfort of friendship would be something not so easily retrieved again.

“Why haven't you just kissed me?” The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. They seemed to slap Sam across the face, halting him in his place.

“Excuse me?” He managed to speak, words caught in his throat.

“I- I just mean… You look at me the same way you look at them. Hell, I’ve seen you pull the same lines on me you use on them. So why haven't you-”

“You want that?” He questioned. Now facing him, you could see a glimmer in his eyes you could only place as mischievous.

You worried on your bottom lip taking in Sam’s muscular form. It wasn't as if you hadn't noticed how incredibly beautiful he was before, but someone you had downed your attraction under a list of excuses. But now, in the dim lighting of your bedroom with the years of built up tension sizzling around you, you couldn't think of a single one.

“I just think I’d like to know what it’s like. At least for the night.” You spoke in sincerity, padding across the room towards him. You could tell he was bewildered by your sudden confidence, and to be fair, so were you. You could blame it on the champagne or maybe the bodycon dress Nat had squeezed you into, but you knew it was just Sam.

“Baby girl, if you cross this line, there’s no going back.” He warned, a false seriousness in his words. But there was honestly there, and you knew it, too. There would be no back peddling, but there was something in the way your hands were shaking; body vibrating with the notion of Sam close to you that had you wondering if you even cared.

“Show me.” You couldn't help the smirk that pulled at your lips when Sam sucked in a breath, his eyes never leaving yours.

You expected him to buckle. Turn away and walk out of the room, desperate to hold onto whatever reminisce of a friendship you still had. But he surprised you as he closed the distance, one hand sliding onto your waist and pulling you flush against his chest and the other cupping your jaw.

His thump traced your bottom lip, coaxing a soft gasp to spill from your throat.

Sam smiled softly at your reaction, his tongue flicking out to dampen his lips and -

You could have passed out right there. All the air in your lungs dissipated the moment his soft lips touched yours. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck, pulling him in, craving more, urging him on.

You could feel his smile in the kiss as you moaned, completely lost in the way his hands roamed your form. He was intoxicating, the heat of his body mixed with the warm smell of vanilla and nicotine incinerating any worry that had been floating in your head. You could only feel him - and the mattress as you fell backwards onto the bed.

Sam’s fingers found the bottom of your dress, dipping underneath the fabric as he pulled it up around your ass. His lips left yours, only to connect with the column of your throat, teeth gracing your jaw as you breathed him in.

The tension in the room changed suddenly when he caged you down onto the bed, his forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath.

“If you want me to stop-”

“Stay, please.” You gasped out, his eyes meeting yours and seeing the same desperation mirroring back.

“Fuck.” Sam growled out, eye rolling back in his head as you watched any hesitation melt away.

You were on your back moments later, his lips on your thighs and he held your knees apart. His mouth on your clothed cunt, tongue lapping against the wet fabric as he stretched it and with a snap, he tore it away. You gasped arching your back as if to soften the blow as he caught your clit in his mouth.

“Stay put, gorgeous.” He hummed against your sloppy folds, his nose rubbing against your clit as he devoured you; tongue puncturing your dripping hole as he drank you in.

You slapped your hand over your mouth, not at all eager to be added to the list of screamers Sam had come home with, but it was easier said than done. And by the way he was eating you out, it was only a matter of time before you were a whimpering mess.

“Don’t hold back those beautiful sounds.” Sam encouraged, a finger curling inside you, pulling at your walls as you choked on a moan, eyes rolling back in your head when he found your throbbing clit again. With only a few more twirls of his tongue, you were pouring out onto him, your first orgasm ripping through your body as he ate up every last drop.

“Fuck. You taste so sweet, babygirl.” Sam gasped, wiping your come from his lips as he flipped you over, instructing you to get on your knees and hold the headboard. “Gunna’ fuck this pussy so good. Gunna’ ruin you, gorgeous. Want you remembering that you asked for this.”

You could only whine in response, most of your will fucked away by his skilled tongue. But you had no idea what was to come. Sam lined himself up with you then, stroking his warm head in your slick folds as he began so rip you open with his cock.

You were no one near a virgin, but you probably could have fooled Sam as he coaxed himself further into you. On instinct, you arched your back away from him, terrified of his size as he began to slide deeper and deeper -

Sam grabbed you by your waist, holding you still as the tip of his thick cock kissed the deepest parts of you. “Nuh-uh, you're gonna’ take every last inch, baby girl. I know you can. Be my good little thing.”

You bit back a scream, letting go as you sunk back down onto his cock. You knew for a fact that you wouldn't be sitting comfortably tomorrow. Or for the next few days…

Before you could beg, Sam bucked his hips against you, pulling a gargled sob to vibrate from your chest as he fucked into you. There wasn’t any possible way he could get any deeper, but as he dug his fingers into your hips and speared you against his base, you swear he discovered a new part of you.

With one hand holding you steady and the other tangled in your hair, Sam made you his. You throbbed, pussy fluttering around his cock as he kept his brutal pace.

“That’s my good girl. Fuck.” Sam couldn't contain himself, a smile forming in his lips because he finally had you. Not only that, but he was balls deep, spanking your ass and coaxing screams from your beautiful lips. “Taking this cock so good.”

You didn't have the ability to answer him, gripping the headboard for dear life as you began to come undone for the second time tonight. And he knew, too; the cocky bastard.

“Thatt’a girl. Hold onto that for me. I know you’re close, but hold on .” Sam grunted against you, his large hands gripping your ass and watching your puckered hole glisen with your come. If he had it his way, he’d make another meal out of you, but he knew you were only moments from soaking his cock.

“I cant- oh- Sam!.” You screamed, your body betraying his demand. “Yes, yes…” You chanted the word, on the brink of complete destruction as your orgasm began to-

With a whine, he pulled out of you, flipping you onto your back and folding you in half. You gripped your knees, and gasped and he sank back down into you. With a few deep pumps you were right back where you were, whimpering and pleading with him to make you come.

“Just wanted to see your pretty face when you come apart.” Sam admitted, a crooked smile forming on his mocha lips and your swear, it was the sweetness of it that had you tumbling over the edge. He was just so beautiful, you couldn't hold back.

And just like that, the golden God between your legs turned you into a screamer. His name left your lips so many times, you swear it became your new religion. A prayer you only spoke for him.

“Where do you want it?” He suddenly sounded vulnerable, but then again, so were you. Cockdrunk and flushed from his assault. You lost yourself in his question until you noticed how hard he was gripping your thighs, holding back his orgasm as he shook, slowing his thrusts.

“Fill me up, Sam.” you pleaded, and just like that, he crumbled. A broken growl left his lips, one hand coming to wrap around your throat and hold you steady as you consciously make the effort to speaze your used cunt around him.

“Fuck, yeah. Just like that” A few sloppy thrusts later and he was painting your throbbing walls with his hot spend. The both of you shivered, panting against one another as you took in the mess you’d made. You had shattered everything platonic in a matter of minutes, and yet the goofy grin plastered on Sam’s lips was unyielding.

“You’re my best friend.” He grinned, still catching his breath. He stroked your face, tucking your damp hair behind your ear as he kissed your lips tenderly.

“I don’t want you like a best friend.” you puffed, framing his jaw in your hands as you took him in.

In this new light, Sam looked ethereal.

Like something otherworldly and for a moment, you knew that even if everything would change the moment you left the confines of your bedroom, Sam would always be yours. And that would always be enough.

[prof-peach]

:0 I've never seen the other Pokemon on your team, what are they like?

My perma-team is a vulpix, Valka, a 20+ year old heavy hitter, despite her small stature. She was my very first pokemon, through gritted teeth we bonded, and now I fondly refer to her as my shadow. I go no where without her. She puts everyone who resides on the island in their place with unnerving strength. like literally any comic she's somewhere in the background, if not underfoot. Not hard to find more art of her, she is quite menacing.

Then we have Booker, Teddiursa, silly old grumpy bear. He had a hard time with poachers when he was real young, and imprinted on me during my ranger days many years ago now. He doesn't want to evolve, wears an everstone bead on his tail. He's partially blind on one side but we hiked to a colony of Machop and trained with them in the mountains for months to help him regain balance and confidence! He seems grouchy but is actually sweet.

Then we got Minerva, a shiny lopunny i nabbed at an airport when i was quite young, from a bad breeder. she was a scabby weedy flea infested runt when we first met, hardly the pink colour you'd usually expect from her type. She is fierce and fearless, will jump head first into anything with confidence and style. Loves to dress up, steals a lot of my nicer clothes. Will smash you into bits if you cross her, a total diva and i'd change nothing.

you've no doubt recently noticed the posts about Boadicea, a CharizardXGarchomp hybrid who's the baby of the group. Needy, clingy, total idiot, lap pokemon despite her ridiculous size. Very fast mount for flying.

For ground travel i use a dear Stantler called Donut, he's rather docile if you're not a problem to his "herd", with a neck so thick and strong you can hold onto his antlers and be lifted with ease. He's very chill.

We got a delivery Noctowl whos been around the block with me a few times too, lil guys really friendly, no real name for him, we all just call him 'Fancy pants' or 'dude'. hes got fancy eyebrows.

Of course not forgetting Quintin, a Scizor, my first egg hatch ever, been with me since i was a real youngster, a gentle soft sweet boy with a heart of gold, and collectively about 4 braincells. We all adore him.

then theres the house pokemon, each of these has blurb in the blog somewhere, they're all rather naughty... except Bob and Rosco. They're a delight.

uhhh lets see, this rat is always under my feet.

And then theres the pokemon who are out and about. the team mates who do jobs around the island, usually maintaining the peace.

Theres also 3 Bronzong that hang about the island,

Some notable partners from my various travels and adventures would iniclude

Dutch - Porygon-Z (helps around the lab, very loving, bit mad)

Typhlosion - Propane (odd markings, a spicy meatball)

Grimm - Steelix (real docile, very into scratches)

Riot - Lycanroc/midnight (Fiery, naughty, likes to thrash)

Suneater - Golisopod (shy, kind and very smart, loves to be alone)

Jewel - Ribombee (mean tempered! fussy)

Wotsit - Vikavolt (real clingy and super curious, to a fault)

Hemlock - Heracross - (a total babe, really protective and jolly)

Potato - -Bulbasaur (strict but fair, very old)

Murdoc - Crobat (timid in the light, proud of his speed)

Sugar - Tyranitar (Soft baby lady, total gentle giant)

Summer - Meganium (variant lady, gentle, calming aura, healer)

Tobi - Dreadnaw (rare water type for me, he's always sleeping)

Moss - Stonjourner (covered in moss, aptitude for grass attacks)

Zeplin - Aerodactyl (old battle maiden, now retired to the mountains)

Madam - Eldegoss - (will try to poison you, shiny, total nuisance)

I must admit, i often am one to release pokemon back to the wild, but the ones mentioned here are pokemon who have had the option to leave, and have chosen to stick around (apart from Madam who is a liability if left to go free), at least for now. We've been on many adventures together, and now work side by side managing the island. I have yet to draw them all but theres at least some visuals here for you. This also doesn't include pokemon who are residents at the lab and its facilities, who like our company but are not technically registered to myself or any of the staff. We breed all kinds of grass types, and they're all pretty friendly give or take, so if we have a certain job that needs more hands, we can call upon the residents who suit the work. Many of them have been through treatment or rehab with us, and we've built up a relationship with them, enough to work well together.

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: epilogue (reader)

Summary: An early morning, a doctor’s appointment, a new beginning.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: pregnancy (including like… probably incorrect math and science but my degree was in English and this is fanfiction okay)

Word count: 2.7k

a/n: I’m actually so emotional don’t look at me thanks ♥️

Series Masterlist

———

The sound of Spencer’s ringtone pierced through the early morning quiet, shrill and disconsolate. Y/N hummed against his chest, shifting as he clumsily reached across to the bedside table to answer it. 

“Hey,” he croaked, voice still smothered in sleep. “Mm... When?” He paused, and she could almost make out the answer on the other end. “Got it. Yeah.” 

He carefully set the phone back on the bedside table, and then his arms came around her shoulders. He let out a long sigh, the one she’d gotten quite used to over the last year and a half— the one that meant he had to go. She squeezed him around the middle and let out her own sigh. “Case?”

“Yeah.” He ran light fingers down her arm. “Jet’s taking off in ninety minutes.”

She glanced at the bedside table to the alarm clock that read 4:57am. They both knew he needed to leave within the next half hour if he was going to make it on time, but neither one made any effort to move. Instead, they breathed together in the pre-dawn stillness— a single moment of peace before the world and all its ugliness could crash through the fortress they’d constructed around their space and around each other.

“I don’t wanna go,” he whispered. 

“I know.” She pressed a kiss over his heart through his t-shirt. “I know.”

“I’m gonna miss everything,” he lamented. “Appointments, and milestones, and firsts, and I— I’m gonna miss all of it.”

She lifted her head at the tears in his voice. “Hey.” She shifted in the circle of his arms to prop herself up on his chest. “You’re not gonna miss all of it. You’ll miss this one appointment. And it’s— it’s not even an important one,” she assured, gentle fingers swiping away the lone tear that had managed to escape over his lash line. 

“Yes, it is.” He shook his head. “They're all important.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile, leaning forward to press a quick peck to his lips before sitting up and deciding to reassure him in the only way she knew how. “Okay, doctor. Eleven weeks. Tell me what we’re gonna find out today.” 

She pulled him up out of bed, interlacing their fingers and pressing their shoulders together. As she led him to the bathroom, he explained, “Dr. Layton will do the first ultrasound, and Baby will look more like a baby now. At around ten weeks they made the transition from embryo to fetus. They’ll be about two inches long.” 

She handed him his toothbrush and turned to grab his toiletry go-back from the linen closet, stifling a yawn. “Mmhm. What else?”

“Did you know they’re breathing now?” he asked, and she smiled at the way the excitement crept into his voice. “Between weeks ten and eleven, the fetus starts to inhale and exhale small amounts of amniotic fluid, which aids in the development of their lungs. It’s kind of like they’re breathing underwater.” 

“I didn’t know that,” she admitted, turning back to set the bag on the counter. “That’s pretty amazing. What about the heartbeat?”

He nodded vigorously as he applied toothpaste to the bristles of his brush. “We should be able to hear it, although sometimes it’s too early— depending on the accuracy of the estimated date of conception.”

He ran the water over the toothbrush before popping it into his mouth. She kissed his shoulder and then moved back into the bedroom, shuffling into their closet for his go bag. She checked it over on her way back to the bathroom, ensuring it had been fully repacked after the last case. She set it on the counter and placed his toiletry bag inside, leaving it open for him to pack his toothbrush and then sitting on the closed toilet lid. 

He rinsed his mouth and put his travel cap over the head of his toothbrush, gesturing with it and then dropping it into the bag. “They’ll do some routine lab work to test for things like gestational diabetes, and we can also choose to do additional screeners for chromosomal abnormalities and possible complications.” He looked at her then, and she saw the despondence creeping back in. “I should really be there, just— just in case.”

“Honey.” She stood and held out her hand to him, smiling a little when he accepted it with a squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

He let out a breath and pulled her into his arms, and they held each other in the silence, the soft light from the vanity washing over them. His phone buzzed with an incoming message, and she knew he needed to get on the road. Still, she held him for a second longer, and then they shuffled through the door and into the bedroom together. 

Y/N made her way back to bed, scooting down under the duvet to preserve the last remaining notes of his body warmth. She watched as he dressed silently, pulling on trousers, socks, a button up and cardigan. He skipped the tie in favor of coming to sit on the bed, bringing his hand to rest lightly over top of her belly over the covers. 

She covered his hand with her own and laced their fingers together. “Maybe you could ask Luke if you can FaceTime with his phone. You can probably take twenty minutes, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He rubbed a tired hand over his face. “Maybe I should just upgrade my own phone.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I see how it is. Couldn’t upgrade for me, but once a baby comes along you’re ready for an iPhone.” 

“That’s not— you— you shouldn’t have to do all of this alone,” he huffed, and she realized her joke didn’t land when his voice cracked at the end. 

“Spence, I’m— I’m just teasing.” She lifted her hands to his face, pulling him closer and meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry; you’re upset, and that wasn’t nice.” 

She leaned up to kiss his forehead, letting her lips linger and breathing him in. “But I’m not alone. With you, I feel— the opposite of alone.”

“Irritated?” he offered. 

“No,” she laughed. “Supported, and cared for, and loved,” she corrected with a smile. “You’ve been all of that since day one. And I know that’s not going to change, whether you’re physically present in that doctor's office or not. Right?” 

When he nodded, she continued, “I love you. The most. And you are easily the best baby daddy on planet earth. Okay?”

The term of endearment dragged a smile from him, as it always did. “Okay.”

She leaned forward to press her lips to his, both sets upturned and a little dry from sleep. “Now, you need to go, or you’re gonna be late.”

“I know.” He kissed her again, long and slow, and then pulled back to lean their foreheads together. He hesitated for another ten seconds before standing to grab his bag from the bathroom. 

When he re-emerged, she reminded him, “Ask Luke about the FaceTime thing. I’m sure he won’t mind, and we can trust him to keep the secret. The appointment technically starts at 1:00, but I probably won’t be seen until at least 1:30.”

He crossed to give her another kiss. “I love you.” He crouched to press a kiss to her tummy. “And you.”

“We love you, too,” she smiled, fingers tangling in his curls. “And we’ll talk to you in a few hours.”

She kissed him one more time— couldn’t help herself. And then his warmth was gone from the bed, and the house was suddenly much too quiet. She snuggled back down under the duvet, her head on his pillow and the scent of his shampoo shrouding her senses and easing her mind.

Spencer really was supportive— endlessly so. Not overbearing, but interested and involved in every moment: reading all the newest research, bringing home her favorite treats, writing out a color-coded timeline of all the appointments and milestones. She wasn’t lying when she called him the best baby daddy. He was always there for her. So much so that the apprehension she’d had at the beginning of this surprise journey was nowhere to be found. 

As she drifted back into sleep, there he was again— she could almost hear the jangling of his keys in the bowl in the entryway, his feet on the stairs, the rustling of his pants and sweater being discarded onto the floor of their bedroom. 

And then she felt the warmth of his palm low over her tummy, coming to rest over the barely-there bump. She felt his lips on her shoulder and his chest pressed against her back. When she went to cover his hand with her own, her exhausted brain registered that it wasn’t a dream at all.

She turned her head, blinking her eyes open to see him smiling at her and drew her brows together. “What’s going on?”

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, snuggling even closer and rubbing his thumb along her belly. “I’m, um— I told Emily I’m gonna consult from home on this one.”

…

“Okay, Mom, this’ll just be a little bit cold.”

Dr. Layton smoothed the gel over Y/N’s lower abdomen, and Spencer moved to thread their fingers together, shifting to stand even closer to the examination table. The ultrasound machine gave off a low hum as the doctor adjusted the wand over her tummy. She felt Spencer press a kiss to her temple and turned to smile brightly at him before turning back to the black and white screen. 

At her first appointment five weeks ago, she’d been by herself— alone and uncertain and terrified— and she’d declined the option of the ultrasound. It felt wrong to see the baby before Spencer even knew about them. Now, together with him, with her soon-to-be husband— she was more than ready to see their baby for the first time. And she could practically feel Spencer’s excitement next to her, his body nearly vibrating with it. 

“Ah, here they are. Hello, Baby Reid.” Dr. Layton pointed to a small, white figure on the screen. “Okay, right here, you can see their big ol’ head— perfectly normal size for this stage of development,” she assured, eyes deftly scanning the image in front of her. “Everything looks great! Now, I’m just trying to find…” 

She adjusted the wand over Y/N’s tummy, and suddenly a wub wub wub came over the tinny speaker of the machine. “There we are,” Dr. Layton smiled. “Very strong heartbeat.”

Spencer squeezed Y/N’s hand, and she felt the drop of a tear on her shoulder. She brought her other hand over to cover their tangled fingers, rubbing her thumb along the skin of his wrist and kissing his arm. 

Dr. Layton made a slightly perplexed humming sound, moving the wand again and losing the sound of the heartbeat, only to pick it up again— this time slightly faster. Y/N’s own heart stuttered a little as the doctor moved the wand again twice more, and then cleared her throat. “Is something— is everything okay?”

She turned to Y/N with a kind smile. “Yes, yes,” she confirmed, and then she raised her eyebrows. “Just— do you hear the difference?” 

Spencer tilted his head in consideration, drawing his brows together and straining to hear. The doctor shifted the wand once more, allowing them to hear the two distinct patterns. 

Two distinct patterns, Y/N realized. 

Dr. Layton pressed the wand a little more firmly into her abdomen, moved it just slightly. “Those are two different heartbeats.” She pointed to the screen. “And those are two different babies. There’s a matching set of Baby Reids in there.”

Y/N couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. “Is there—” She turned to Spencer incredulously. “Do twins run in your family?”

He shook his head silently, eyes wide. “Yours?”

“Nope,” she squeaked. 

“This obviously changes things slightly,” Dr. Layton explained, cleaning up the residual gel. “I’d like to see you every three weeks rather than every four. Then at twenty eight weeks, we’ll see how we feel, okay?” 

She smiled gently as Y/N and Spencer nodded dumbly. She removed her gloves and stood. “I’m going to give you two a few minutes. I’ll be back with your photos in a bit, and we can talk about any questions you might have.”

The door closed behind her, and the room was bathed in silence. Y/N sat up carefully and swung her legs over the side of the examination table. She looked down at her tiny, unassuming bump and felt a tear slip over her lashes. 

“Are you— are you okay?” Spencer whispered. 

She brought her gaze to his, found them teeming with barely restrained joy and yet the ever-present worry. “Well,” she started. “I, um— I always imagined two kids.” She brought her hands up to her sweaty cheeks and held her own face between her palms. “I guess this is— you know— just a quicker way to get there.”

Spencer immediately wrapped her in a hug, pressing kisses over her hair, her forehead, her shocked mouth. “Two babies. We’re having two babies.”

“Twins, Spence,” she breathed. “Twins.”

He replaced her hands with his own, cradling her face and kissing her sweetly, sighing all of his joy and adoration into her mouth. “I love you. So much. The most.” He lowered himself to press his lips to her belly. “All of you.”

She used gentle hands in his hair to tilt his face up, meeting his smile with a watery one of her own. “We love you, too, baby daddy.”

She could see the gears turning as he stood, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “About that.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Do you, um— how difficult do you think it would be to get everyone together this weekend?”

She paused. “You wanna get married this weekend?”

“Yeah, that’s probably too soon, huh?” He huffed out a sigh, then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh, what about next weekend?”

“That’s just as soon!” she laughed. 

He furrowed his brow. “No, it’s not. There's a seven day difference.”

“You’re really in a rush, huh?” she teased. 

“Well. I just— I figure you should really be on my insurance anyway,” he reasoned. “Especially now that it’s— now that it’s twins.”

“Mm, yes, I’m sure that’s the reason,” she grinned.

He let out a long breath, and she watched his eyes journey over her face— memorizing every curve and angle, every new wrinkle, every last inch of her. And she knew the reason. 

“I know it’s just a piece of paper,” he murmured. “It doesn’t really change anything, but…” He used gentle fingers to brush her hair back from her face. “I just… really want to be your husband.”

She took her own minute to memorize the way he looked in this moment: her fiancé, the father of her children, the best man she’d ever known, the absolute love of her life. And she knew her own reason. 

“The paper might not change anything,” she agreed. “But— you’ve changed everything.”

He squeezed her hips. “In a good way I hope.”

“The best way.” She brought her hands to his face, rubbing her thumbs along his cheeks. “The best way.”

He closed the distance between them to kiss her with all the honey and magic and reverence he always did. He broke away to lean his forehead against hers with all the warmth and devotion and love he always did. She sighed, and it was all joy and vulnerability and contentment like it always was. And she knew their reasons. 

She kissed him again, and then murmured against his lips, “You know I’m still gonna refer to you as baby daddy, right?”

The laugh erupted from his chest and wrapped itself around her heart, tying tight and secure— a shield, and a haven, and a refuge— keeping her safe from every terrible thing. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

…

O no! Love is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; 

It is the star to every wandering bark, 

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

———

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[wizkiddx]

I would for sure read a continuation of the birth photographer fic if you feel comfortable writing it/have time! Xx

a/n sorry I kinda combined these two together, I hope this is okay!! sorry ive taken so long too!! my requests are still open, just going a bit slowly :)

summary: literally just birth + harry

dad!tom x reader

warnings: childbirth, mentions of fainting, squint for suggestiveness too

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Your doing so good darling, just keep breathin’ like that for me, in-out-in-out”

That had pretty much been the soundtrack to your last 3 hours. And yes it was MORE annoying than it sounds. Of course, that’s also ignoring the insane amount of pain your uterus was putting you through - as it spasmed while the little bug in there was wriggling away. Giving birth was not easy but giving birth with a husband-turned-midwife wittering away in your ear? Un-fucking-bearable. 

“Tom…. I love you but..” Everything had really been starting to ramp up in the last half an hour, you were a panting sweaty mess now. “Please… SHUT THE FUCK UP” Tom would’ve recoiled completely away from the bed because of your tone, if it wasn’t for the absolute death grip you had his right hand in. Instead,  Tom settled for straightening straight up and staring helplessly and dejectedly across the room at his brother - who of course was trying to hold back laughter, knowing it would be very easy for you to switch your target to him. 

Clearly it wasn’t a social call to the hospital, Harry was here under the premise of taking photos when the baby arrives for Tom;  but really to stop his brother from having his own breakdown - as commissioned by you. Lets just say, however scared and mortified Harry was of this ‘event’ he was taking a lot of enjoyment from how his brother was acting currently. 

“It’s okay sir, if you were pushing a watermelon out of hole that normally was the size of a whiteboard marker, I’m sure you’d be a bit tetchy too.” That lady was your favourite midwife and in a lull between the sets of contractions, you actually managed a laugh. Wide-eyed, Tom just nodded jerkily, murmuring some sort of agreement. It was at this point a flash of light reverberated around the whole room, causing you to breathlessly laugh, Harry’s face informing you the picture he just got of Tom was priceless. 

The laughter didn’t last long though, the next contraction had you bearing down on the bed, face contorted in pain as you sucked desperately on the gas and air tube. 

“Okay Y/n I think we might be getting there, let me call the senior midwifes in okay?” The midwife had your legs hiked apart, a blanket attempting to cover your modesty - but at this point she was basically sticking her face in your noon. Modesty was out the window. 

“Already?” Tom was shocked to say the least, from all his reading and research he’d learnt that the average labour time was more like 5 hours. Lets just say, Tom never exceled in school, never much enjoyed reading - which made the hours of highlighting baby books and pregnancy leaflets all the more extraordinary. 

“Babies don’t stick to the script sir.” You could tell she was proud of the pun there, because you know, Tom’s a moviestar. “Professional improvisers, the lot of them.” 

The cream walls of the hospital room very quickly filled with more and more people - Harry staying like a fly on the wall, now nervously biting his nails as he watched an obscene amount of medical people all take their turn oggling his sister-in-law’s bits. This was a weird ass situation. 

Almost immediately it was at the point the midwifes were telling you to push, which after 9 months of holding a baby in (as well as your ill functioning bladder) sounded like an absolute dream. But it was also absolutely terrifying and exciting and horrifying all wrapped in one. Naturally then, after nodding hesitantly at the midwife between your legs, you’d craned your neck across to tom .You might’ve just told him off, for trying to encourage you, but now? You needed his encouragement. 

What met you though, was his face completely drained of colour, mouth hanging slightly open as he hadn’t moved - still staring intently at the midwife. She followed your gaze, only taking half a second to survey the situation before knowingly smiling. 

“Can we get a bit of help for dad please?” Immediately one of the more junior looking midwives was directing (pushing) Tom into the chair next to the floor. Suddenly actually concerned, you looked with wide eyes to the lady between your legs, who you felt bad for not remembering her name. With a comforting squeeze of your ankle she reassured you he’d be right as rain after a few moments of having his head between his knees. Also sensing you needed your support, she arched up, beckoning over to Harry who had an equally bemused look on his face. 

“No - I-um I’m not.” His squeaking protests were interrupted by a large scream on your part, as another contraction tore through your body. Helplessly Harry glanced between Tom, who was still hunched over on a chair with a nurse squatted infront of him; and you, writhing around on the mechanical bed. He didn’t hesitate then, in jumping right to your side, allowing you to start crushing all the bones in his hand too. 

And then it was all happening, a blur of activity and screams. It didnt take long for Tom to pull himself together and then you were flanked on both sides by Holland boys - both giving cheesy encouraging words (which you would’ve again told them to shut the fuck up for, if you’d been able to), Tom also stroking the top of your head. He found it pretty impossible, watching the woman that he loved go through such immense pain - especially when he was technically half the cause. Well… actually more that that, it had been him who had been… well shall we say *needy* those nine months ago. 

“Okay Y/n the heads crowning, I know you’re tired but we need a few more big pushes, can you do that for me?” 

Merely 5 minutes later and the most beautiful sound in the world echoed through the 4 creams walls. You were absolutely spent, eyes closed as you panted, knowing tears were flooding down your face too. Immediately though, familiar hands cupped both sides of your face, a forehead resting on yours. 

“You did it Y/n/n.” His eyes were glassy, watering and red and the way he scoffed a smile in disbelief had you mirroring him exactly.

“We did it.” Your voice was hoarse and scratchy from all the yells of pain but it didnt matter. The midwife calling you by the name ‘mum and dad’ got both of your attention, a title you’d no doubt start getting used to. 

“Meet your beautiful baby girl.” Another choked sob escaped your throat, as  this little roughly wrapped up pink alien looking thing was placed onto your chest. Both you and Tom just gazed at her, completely transfixed at the way she wriggled her head slightly, nuzzling into your chest. Tom gently hovered his palm against her little head, while you pressed down the blanket gently, just so you could see all her features. 

Then a flash echoed around the otherwise silent room, making you all look up to Harry who was gritting his teeth in apology. “Do mum and dad want to smile for the camera?” The question was posed so hesitantly and quietly, really it wasn’t funny either. That didn’t stop you and Tom both pulling out the biggest grins and chuckling away, allowing Harry to capture the perfect moment. Being referred to as mum and dad - it was bloody comical. 

“You gonna tell me her name now?”  You looked from Harry to Tom, nodding in approval for him to spill the beans. 

“Amber. She’s Amber.”

You’d squabbled for months before ending on Amber. It had been a long relentless process, Tom claiming that your baby might just have ended up as ‘as yet untitled’ which you and your hormonal state had stormed out at. It hadn’t taken much to forgive it though, Tom had long since worked out that Ben and Jerrys was the way to your heart. 

The nurses took Amber back to do some tests, properly cleaning both you and her up and after that everything was weirdly calm. Harry had left to give the twothree of you a moment alone and Tom was about to do his turn of skin to skin. 

“This really is it isn’t it?” He murmured, whilst carefully scooping Amber from your arms. 

“Mhmmm… your stuck with two girls who’ll go psycho on you without a moments notice.” He seemed to accept it though, just nodding in response. 

“And I still can’t bloody wait.” His eyes penetrating deep into you, had you blushing like a nervous teenage girl. “ ‘m still so proud of you, you grew this little human.”

“Your not allowed to call her little because you didnt have the ‘little’ thing rip your insides apart.”

“Hey! I’m upset about it too! Was like I had to watch my favourite pub being burnt down.” Of course, trust Tom to make a dirty joke at a time like this.

“Don’t kid yourself, you weren’t watching, too busy fainting.”

“I didn’t actually faint!” This time he protested a bit too loudly, causing Amber to mewl a little and bury her head into the crook of her Dads arm. “I think Ambers just told you to shut it too.”

“You annoy the hell out of…” Your grumbling was interrupted by an impressive, ear-splitting yawn. “ You annoy the hell out of me.”

“But you love me?” He sing-songed, now back to a hushed tone. 

“I hope so, otherwise we’re in a bit of trouble.” He scoffed, but nodded his head, taking the hand that wasn’t cradling Amber to tuck some sweaty, knotted strands of hair behind your ear. 

“I do owe Harry though, he was at least able to stay on his feet.”

“He was a better birthing partner than you too, much much less condescending and annoying.” You sniggered, making Tom pout once again, only wiping the look off his face when you yawned again, rubbing an your eye like a toddler would. 

“If your done insulting me… get some rest love, I got you.” All you did was nod, with a small groan (because below your waist still hurt like a bitch) rolled over so you could fall asleep to sight of the two of them. 

“Got you both, my two beautiful girls.”

hope you enjoyed, would love to hear any thoughts <3

taglist: @hollandfanficlove @hallecarey1

[narrators-journal]

Could I request a BSD lovecraft x short(4”11) female reader

Soulmate au

Fluff to smut plz

And could lovecraft use his ability in the smut part?

It's not exactly what you asked for, but I hope it's still enjoyable! It was a fun bit of a challenge for me, I enjoyed it. Also, thanks for sending in an ask for this, I appreciate you humoring my weirdness <3

CW: Tentacles, size difference, technically teratophilia

Tagged: @ravenina14

Checking the clock, you saw that it was nearly morning, sighing heavily at that fact. Part of you wanted to say fuck it and go through until the next night, but your stomach twisted and coiled like a spring about to pop, you were far too high strung from a mixture of energy drinks and stress to sleep at the moment. So, with a sigh, you ran a (s/c) hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair and sat back in your desk chair.

For a moment, you just sat there in your room, thinking about all of the weirdness in your life instead of all of the college work you still had to do. First, you'd lived since the age of eighteen with the name 'Howard P. Lovecraft' stamped across your lower back, a soul mate mark, meaning that was the name of your forever partner. Second, the man assigned that odd name was equally odd. So, fate had assigned you to a man that you were pretty sure wasn't quite human, or at least he had a very out there ability, to spend your life with. Finally, you'd met said man when you saw him walk out of the ocean one day as you went to the store. Not exactly your usual meet-cute.

That wasn't to say your soul mate wasn't attractive, though. He had that same sort of charm one might find from Illumi Zoldyck, with long, wavy black hair, tired, dark eyes like the darkest parts of the ocean, and pale skin, he also could look a lot like the anime character. Though Lovecraft was likely taller than him, and a little more oblivious. Either way, he was cute, in an awkward way, so you weren't upset to have him as a partner, just amused by the oddity of the situation. In fact, remembering him had brought a good idea to your head.

So with that, you pushed yourself up from your chair to stretch before heading out to the living room, where Lovecraft laid on your couch like a corpse in a casket, watching the television in a stiff mimicry of what you showed him when teaching him how to relax there when the two of you had first begun to settle into your new normal.          "Lovecraft," you said, getting a mixture of a groan and a hum from the low energy man, "I need cuddles," Without a word, he lifted his lanky arms and let you flop onto his chest before laying his limbs back as they were, barely looking up from the ocean documentary on the television. Either way, the simple affection made you sigh as your tense body soaked up the comfort. However, the cuddles and the sounds of the documentary didn't seem to quite reach that knot of tension in your soul, much to your annoyance.

After a few attempts to get comfortable in your lanky boyfriend's arms on the couch, attempting to find the best possible position for comfort, you sighed, brushing your bangs from your face and just blandly watching what was on the television in defeat,           "Are you okay, (y/n)?" Lovecraft asked, turning his dark eyes to you at last, seeming to read your body language in a single, barely-blinking look since he began rubbing small circles into your back like you'd done to him a few times when he was grumpy after working with the Guild. And while you appreciated the gesture, it did little to help you relax as much as you needed.           "I'm a bit stressed out from college, but I can't seem to unwind enough to sleep." You admitted, dropping your head onto his shoulder sadly.          "I'm sorry about that," he muttered, his deadpan voice doing nothing to convince you that he was honest, which he likely wasn't, but you'd gotten used to his aloof manner, "Maybe you could take a bath? Those are said to be relaxing." he offered, but you simply skewed your mouth to the side at the idea. It wasn't like the idea was really off-putting, you just didn't want to get up and go through all that work. Though, it did give you an idea.

Turning your (e/c) eyes up to the pale, dark-haired man you called your soulmate, moving so you straddled him and tried to project as much seductive charm as your little body could produce,          "Y'know, there's another way to destress that I could try~" as you spoke, making your best bedroom eyes at the oblivious man, you toyed with the collar of his shirt. When he didn't take the hint, you gave him a swift kiss, swiftly moving your kisses from his mouth down to his neck, which seemed to clarify your meaning to the pale man.

He put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, encouraging you to sit up,            "I thought copulation was for breeding, and you didn't want a child." Copulation. You sometimes wanted to smack your soulmate with a book. But, you refrained, simply snorting instead,            "No, Lovecraft, sex can be for fun as well." You assured, "just don't cum inside me and no children shall be created." He hummed at your words, but you took the chance to slip your hands under his shirt, trying to maybe convince him to help you out, but he once again stopped your advances,            "While I wouldn't mind having fun, I'd prefer to not lose my clothing." He hummed, earning another huffy expression from you, but you sighed again, your expression of slight annoyance softening,           "Do you just not want to do anything? You can say so," You watched Lovecraft contemplate your question, then replied in his low energy, low voice,           "No, I don't mind having...sex," he tried, making you smile at the way he seemed to learn from you, "I just do not want to strip,"

After that, you laid back against him, contemplating what to do. Sex was likely the best way to exhaust yourself and relax in a timely manner, but Lovecraft kind of needed to be at least somewhat naked for that to happen. After a moment of thinking, you came upon a compromise, a coy smile returning to your (s/c) face as you turned back to Lovecraft with the biggest, most pleading doe eyes you could manage,         "Lovecraft," he simply hummed in response, "can you do that...thing you did a while back, partially activate your power or whatever you do?" He once again looked down at you, his dark eyes seeming to almost absorb the flickering light of the television, adding a small bit of sparkle to the deep sea color of them.

While he thought, you admired his eyes, coming back to reality when he spoke again,         "That is a creative solution," he admitted, his arms still loosely draped around you while you smiled,         "So will you help me?" He gave a careful nod, turning a bit pink it seemed, though you couldn't confirm in the darkness of the living room. Either way though, you took the compromise and pulled your clothes off, enjoying the way Lovecraft's dark eyes took in every inch of your (s/c) body as you stripped, staying in his lap as much as possible while you did. Then, you laid back on him and pressed your lips to his.

The dark-haired man still needed to perfect his kisses, but you didn't mind, the feeling of his altered arm coiling around your thigh, stroking the soft skin while you wriggled your hips and held the kiss until you needed air.

After that, you just laid on your partner's chest, raising your hips slightly so one of the thick tendrils could run along your entrance, sending a small ripple of electricity through you. The feeling increased when the appendage began to explore a bit, focusing its movements on the spots that got the most mewls and shudders out of you. Lovecraft might've been a bit oblivious to humanoid activities, but he sure did learn quickly.

Thankfully though, he didn't abuse that knew knowledge. He toyed with you, caressing your thigh and stroking you only until you were properly riled up into a panting mess of soft moans. Once you were gripping his shirt like you might burn up if you let go, he took the hint and gently pushed a tentacle into you.

The feeling of being full made you moan loudly, pushing yourself back onto him to drive him deeper to hit that sweet spot within you. He let you fuck yourself on him, watching you moan and mewl whenever he managed to hit those special spots.

Already, you were getting weak, each thrust of the tentacle sending a wave of heat through your body, clouding your mind with lust. The feeling increased when you felt a second appendage slither beneath you to grope at your breasts, another slipping between your slick-covered thighs to once again toy with that sensitive bundle of nerves that made you gasp and claw into his shirt tighter.

With so much attention to your sensitive areas, your body felt like it was on fire. Pleasure burned through your veins, turning your body to jelly. All the while, a bubble built in your stomach, increasing with each fresh wave of euphoria sent through you when Lovecraft hit your g-spot. Each wave continued to make you moan and hum lost in the tide of it until that bubble in your stomach finally burst, making you bury your face in your soulmate's neck as you came.

After that, the lightning bolts of pleasure ebbed, leaving your legs as stable as spaghetti noodles that gave out almost the moment Lovecraft retracted his tendrils. Without them, you let yourself turn into a puddle on his chest, quivering and completely satisfied after so long of working. So, without any other demands, you simply let your (e/c) eyes drift shut as grey light was beginning to seep in through the windows. It was a nice change of pace to fall asleep to the sounds of ocean documentaries as dawn approached.

[stevenbasic]

8:10, there she is, good fucking god, I thought to myself, peering surreptitiously under the cheap window blind of my second-floor apartment, out into the parking lot. Already several strides from her white beemer, Melissa’s outrageous, hourglass figure grabbed my eye, my attention, my whole fucking beng. Tuesday morning, and I hadn’t actually seen her since Friday; I’d cloistered myself away in my office all day yesterday, refused to see anyone. So, now, watching her utterly magnificent hips in her tight black pants, her long legs strut her towards the building, her huge chest wobbling in a too-small, skin-tight turtleneck top...it was like filling a deep need of mine. What’s wrong with me?!? I fretted, as unconsciously my hand began stroking the huge erection already growing down my thigh...

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

He’s watching me he’s watching me I can feel it don’t look don’t look up at his window

<clack-clack-clack-clack>, the sound of Melissa’s new, size-12 red heels on the pavement, carrying her past other parked cars in the lot of Far Horizon Medical Associates. It was early - 8:10! I’m late! - but her mind was already on the big task at hand today: him. She hadn’t seen him since last week, he hadn’t taken as much as a single step out of his office yesterday, and his absence had confused her, bothered her, made her actually upset. Despite being so busy with all the excitement of yesterday, all the new girls, the new construction, an emptiness nagged at her, and there was an itch inside her skin that needed scratching. But now that feeling of his eyes, the thought, the mental image of him spying down at her from his little room upstairs, trying to catch a peek of her as she walked into work, animated her. She had grown used to the gazes of men, had learned to tolerate them and be patient with them. She’d grown accustomed to being the object of their attention, a magnet for it since middle school, but with him, these days, it was different.

She wanted him, she wanted his eyes on her. She craved his attention. And even beyond that, she ached for more from him….more than just him ogling her from a faraway window. She needed more than to be able to have him sit alone all day in his little office, doing whatever it is he does in there, when she’s outside, right there. She needed him to need her. Yes, he was married, technically, still, but she was impatient, now. She wanted him to realize it was over, that his life was changing. She needed him to realize what his next step should be...how much he needed her…

She needed to get him to sign those papers.

She put an extra sway in her hips.

Someone else is watching me too…

<clack-clack-clack-clack>

...there’s someone in that truck.

<clack-clack-clack-clack>

She smiled crookedly at the naughtiness of the plan that just materialized in her head.

Okay...okay...yes...let’s see how he likes this...

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Oooo, okay, yes, there she is… AJ thought, sitting low in his truck, surveying the lot, waiting for her white beemer to pull in. 8:10 in the morning and he was technically late to work; he should have been on the job ten minutes ago. But he’d been here all night, and damned if he wasn’t at least going to get a look at her, this boss-girl Melissa. He at least needed that, to cheer him. Angie had broken up with him, for real, yesterday, and he now had nowhere else to go. He was, now - ffff, shit - basically homeless.

Holy fucking shit, he thought to himself, as her tall, TALL body stretched up and up and up out of her 3-series. Jesus christ, he marveled, as his hand went between his legs, no woman should be allowed to be built like that.

She was walking across the lot, towards the building and closer towards him. She was going to pass right in front of his truck, right by him. He watched her, wide-eyed, and grasped himself through his utility pants. Though his windows were up he swore he could hear the <clack-clack-clack-clack> of her heels as she came nearer, now within twenty feet or so, now just right in front of his truck. He could actually feel them, through his truck, shaking the pavement. God she moves the earth, this girl, he goggled, agape at her huge ass as she passed, and right as - ohmigod! - she turned and looked right at him, over her right shoulder...

...and smiled at him.

Oh shit, he panicked, swiftly taking his hand out from between his legs, sitting up straight, and trying to smile back through the windshield at her. He was sure, dead sure, that she’d caught him gaping. That smile told him everything.

Oh god, no...no no no...he lamented, she’s turning around. She was turning around, bending over to look through his windshield, and - with a smile of recognition - waving at him.

Flushing red, AJ did everything he could as a man who’d just slept the night in his truck to look put together, calm and collected. She was coming back, around to his side of the car, and he began to roll down his window. He couldn’t help but goggle at her tits, right at eye level.

“Hiiii..!” she sang as she leaned in towards him, forearms resting possessively on the lower edge of the window frame. Her big hands were inside the space of the truck and, not even realizing it, AJ had backed away a bit from this larger person. “You’re Aaron, right? Angie’s, uh…”

She’s fucking gorgeous, AJ couldn’t help but think, momentarily dumbfounded by the twinkle of her eyes, the brightness of her dimpled smile. He knew he was staring, and- had she asked him something?

“Oh, uh - heh heh, yeah, sorry - boyfriend?” he finally managed, recovering his tongue. C’mon, Shaw, he thought, working to rally himself in the face of a beautiful girl, an opportunity to make something happen, you can do this, turn it on. “Well, ex-boyfriend…”

To that, Melissa smiled, and AJ’s heart skipped a beat. The body language this chick was giving him was all-signals-go. Leaned in as she was, she filled the space between him and the outside. Her body moved languorously, slightly rocking at the hips; anyone watching from the building would be getting quite a show as she swayed that ass slowly to and fro...

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

What is she doing?? he fretted, what the hell is she doing??

He’d watched her, covertly gawking from his little upper-level window, and had immediately started to worry when she’d stopped in her tracks, turned to talk to some guy in a pickup. A guy! One of the construction guys, he grumbled, knowing the jealousy that immediately tightened his throat was unreasonable, she shouldn’t be talking to a guy! She’s flirting, she’s totally flirting.

His pulse quickened, a cold shiver prickled his skin. He, this meathead, was probably tall, young, strong. Someone she’d find cute, attractive, maybe funny. It burned at him, and he hated it. But, from where he was, all he could do was watch.

Good fucking lord look at that ass…

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Melissa felt them on her, she felt his eyes, from that upstairs window. They were on her rear, and the gaze of them warmed her, brought a moist heat between her legs. In response she embellished it, displaying herself to him, lazily rolling her hips as she leaned over, talking to this skinny, nervous guy in the truck. He could watch her from his little post, from that little window, he could watch all he wanted. I like him looking at my butt, thinking about it. And he could have it, it could be his, she thought, presenting herself, getting wetter as she imagined him staring at her, maybe getting hard...

“I was a model, yes,” she answered, as AJ’s questions had come predictably to her appearance. She did her best to act flirty, though her thoughts were distracted, elsewhere, upstairs in that apartment. “That was me, the Mega-Milk girl…”

=====================

my apologies but I have no idea who did the morphing in the first image. I've left it untouched/no faceswap so if anyone can figure it out, I'd love to credit the artist. In the meantime, enjoy the curves.

More GITJ stuff at my Patreon

[doctor-plagueis]

RWBY Booty Tier List

Hi I said it would happen so now it's gonna happen, time to rate asses and explain why I gave them that rating...

(also they are in order from flattest to phattest)

[This took way too long (T-T) ]

Starting with D TIER Aka Flat as fuck

Raven: Ya go to the lowest tier in D tier ya all-tits-no-ass having ass, you deadbeat fucko (I really don't like parents who leave their children, how'd you guess?).

Weiss : Sorry girl but even with all your dance training, your Sperm donor's DNA is in you, if it was just your mom's DNA you'd rocket up to A TIER, still more ass than Raven tho, which says a lot about Raven since Weiss is as flat as a wooden plank (sorry @naughtyweiss your girl has no ass).

All of team NDGO: these bitches show up once or twice, and, in the novels they do something bad? I didn't read it, but they like sacrifice some people to the Grimm or something? Anyways they have almost no ass too little to actually matter.

C TIER Aka Too much muscle

Pyrrha : Sorry unbeatable girl your life style is just too healthy, with all her exercises and no fat foods she has no cushioning, I'm sorry Pyrrha you just have too much muscle.

Reese : With all her skating she must have some muscle in the back, like literally, her muscles are trained to keep her on the board during combat so her ass is super firm, but that's a bit of a downside since it's too firm, kinda hard actually like really hard.

Also she gives me party animal girl vibes, that doesn't affect anything just thought I'd mention it.

Elm: Have you seen how tall and beefy that girl is? Now does this affect her backside...mmm...kind of? Her ass is just and, I mean just muscle which is bad because no cushioning.

But her thighs tho mm~mm delicious.

Yang : Yang is all about her upper body, she's proud of her tits and her arms, she is Miss "punch first ask later" after all, so i can actually see her skipping some leg days, like Reese her booty is alot of muscle but not so much cushion, sorry Yang.

Arslan : Like Yang, Arslan is all about working out and honing her body to peak physical fighting ability, however, this girl has genetics on her side, her tits aren't as big as Yang’s however, she make up for having a tentsy little bit of cushion for the pushin' not really enough to be B TIER though.

B TIER Aka Now were gettin' good

Penny Ver.2 : Penny Version 1 was pure metal (at least in my headcanon) so she was all legs no butt, however, Penny Version 2 (again in my headcanon) had synthetic skin, now I'm not saying Pietro is some weird pervert giving his child a fat ass, but he was "generous" which was inaccurate as...

Penny (human) : Penny as a human never had the chance to exercise [fuck you RT (T-T)], so her booty was a little lacking but it was still bigger and rounder than her robot body.

Ruby: Now you and I both know that with all the sweets Ruby eats she isn't exactly thin, good thing though is all the fat goes to her ass, Ruby has that fatty y'all!

Neo : I'm sure people will question this one but, Neo's height is a detrement on her ass, since she's so short her ass has to be proportional to her actual height, so for women her height she has so much ass but compared to the others in this list it isn't as much.

Coco: Coco takes care of her fashion and her body. She does squats often and keeps a balance between fat and firmness. Unfortunately genetics gave her a cute face but not a phat ass, sorry queen.

Summer: Same as Ruby except she has that MILFY boost to her hips and booty (she also has bigger tits but, oh well this isn't the Titty Tier list so...).

Winter : Training for the military helped null the taint of Jacques DNA in her, so she took a bit more of her mother’s blessed genes, her ass isn't exactly impressive like the girls in A TIER but it's nothing to scoff at either, unlike her sister (sorry Weissey).

Miltiades "Miltia" : both sisters wear heels, however, Miltia has bigger boobs than her twin while Mel has a bigger booty, still wearing heels and being as acrobatic as they both are requires a lot of lower body training, and also since they work at a club as security they do know how to seduce people, and that did affected their rating.

A TIER Aka Nearly perfectly fuckable

Harriet : Now to be one hundred percent honest Harriet has more thighs than ass, however, with her focus on speed and the training she does, she must have a nice fuckable ass, not the biggest or roundest but really, really nice.

Melanie: Both sisters are guards for Junior's club, but, I like to think that Mel also works as a Stripper or Lap dancer (Hooker if you got enough to buy her services and have a dick big enough, she's a bit of a size queen), so she worked on making her already fat ass even better and also took the time to hone her sex appeal, those being her twerking and lapdancing.

Velvet : Bunny gal has some phat Bunny Buns if ya catch my meaning, like go back to volume 3 and get a good look at her costume, girl's got hips and ass like she was bred for it!

Willow: Have you seen her in the newest volumes?? She has a chance (admittedly small) against the legendary bellabooties Gahtdayum!

Too bad she wasted it with a nearly sterile fucking shit pile of a human like Jacques, ugh... (How he managed to have 3 children baffles me, must've taken half the world’s supply of Viagra)

[Side note our favorite Schnee femboy took after his mom, if he was on the list he'd be just below Harriet hehe].

A+ TIER Candidates for the Bubble Booty Brigade (BBB)

Glynda : Glynda is a professional huntress, she is a teacher and she's decked out in dominatrix gear, can I make it any clearer?

Salem : Salem is the original MILF, the thiccest witch of remnant , and also, she has magic and is technically a monster girl sooo... that gives her extra points (who would've guessed I like monster girls hehe).

The next entry might be blasphemous for some and for that I apologize but...

Blake and Kali : I'm sorry kitties, even though the belabooties are know world wide they are not yet in the BBB. Blake has the firmer booty because of her time in the Fang but Kali has the MILF bonus.

Because of their similarities and their diferences they tie for top of A+ tier.

S TIER The BUBBLE BOOTY BRIGADE

The three heavenly asses of remnant, only three girl stand a top the mountain of the perfect Bubble Booty and they are in order...

May Zedong : May has been depicted by the fandom as being really curvy, especially the cow udders she calls breasts, however she hides her curves under her clothes. The same applies to the fucking badonk she hides in her baggy pants, so much so in fact, that May should be number two of the BBB but because she's so shy about her body she's demoted to number three, still, being a member of the Brigade is a blesing of itself.

Emerald Sustrai : As stated in the previous entry Em should be number three, but because May is so shy and Emerald isn't they swaped places. Em is number two because of one singular thing, she knows her ass is her best atribute, and she fucking flaunts it, she knows she can make men and futas pitch tents, and make women stare like horndogs just by walking past them. Not only that, but she wear clothes that accentuate her ass from short shorts to miniskirts, she knows how to make anyone undeserving cream themselves just by swaying her hips a little and winking. Her seduction skills boosted her above everyone else except one.

NORA VALKYRIE THE ONE TRUE BUBBLE BOOTY OF REMNANT

Every single step a jiggle, every single jump or tiny hop and the world stops to stare, every time she passes by jaws hit the floor, every man woman and futa either wants Nora or wants to be Nora.

Nora's voluptuous cheeks are legendary and the worst part of it all is: She does know the effect she has on people, and she gives zero shits about it.

Because no one is worthy of her divine ass cheeks, except for two men: Jaune Arc and Lie Ren.

She's found her studs the ones who care for her, love her, give her the world AND the ones who have huge bitch breaking cocks to fuck her into the sheets like rutting animals.Every.Single.Night.

Every day of her life is one big teasing session for her studs, she purposefully wear skirts just short enough to see the glorious bounce, she always finds excuses to bend over, she sits on their laps as often as possible.

Just so she can have the mind blowing three ways she has every night.

All hail Booty Queen Nora Valkyrie.

Now everyone thank you for being patient this was something i spent a few days writing (like 3-4 days) and I only wrote this for that time so I hope y'all like it.

Some chacters are missing I know, but I really am comfortable with how it is now.

As always this SHOULD NOT AFFECT YOUR WRITING.

This was a thought experiment of mine, and like I always say in this sort of thing WRITE HOW YOU WANT TO WRITE I hope this was clear.

Thanks for reading and please if you so desire share it with friends.

But for now see ya!

[aiden21]

A Universe of Coincidences Present Mic x gn!Reader

Word count: 4k+

You’d moved into this new apartment expecting nothing other than a change in scenery. You’d initially fallen in love with the view that your balcony provided. You were on a high enough floor that no other building nearby really got in the way, and if you closed one eye and stretched out one hand, it kinda looked like you were holding some of the city in the palm of your hand. You didn’t even care about the fact that the apartment itself was a little small, and you spent most of your free time out on the balcony in a small garden chair, just gazing out at the world happily.

You only went out a few times a week for anything that wasn’t work, this afternoon being one such case, for groceries or other necessities. You had a small list in your hand, not trusting your memory, and got in the elevator. The doors were about to close when you heard someone running and you instinctively pressed the button to keep the doors open. A man trotted inside the elevator, a charming smile on his face.

“Thank you~” He told you, in clear English, and you smiled shyly back at him.

You shook your wrist out of pure instinct, the charms on your bracelet clinging together. It was a black bracelet with red roses and you realized the man was staring at it with cheerful eyes.

“Did you just move in? I don’t think I’ve seen you around this venue before.” He asked, green eyes sparkling behind a modest pair of glasses. He was cute, you told yourself, with his long blonde hair and little mustache.

“I’ve been in 1407 for a few days.” You said, offering your last name and a polite smile. He hummed, nodded, and then when the elevator reached the ground floor all too quickly, he pointed at you with a finger gun.

“Welcome to the building! Enjoy the show!” He said before walking out while whistling happily, his strides much longer than yours. You waved at his back dumbly, already getting the feeling that you knew him from somewhere. You pondered upon that as you walked to the store, feeling like you had the answer on the tip of your tongue. But, alas, you didn’t think you’d ever seen that man face to face before and so you pushed the thought out of your mind for a while.

The following morning found you in comfy clothes, the sliding door to the balcony wide open to let the breeze in. You were unpacking a few things, hanging some decorations, while your favorite album played in the background. You had one of those modern vinyl players along with five of your favorite records, all a gift from your family last Christmas, and you liked to listen to them like that, even though you had the songs on your phone. It’d be a shame to just let the vinyls gather dust, after all. You sang along, placing things on shelves and stacking empty boxes on top of one another. You were far from being a good singer, but being home alone gave you the confidence to try and hold longer harmonies or reach higher notes, all things you wouldn’t be caught doing out in public.

You half danced your way around your living room, putting things in their new places. You stepped out into your balcony, still singing happily. You looked at your plants, reminding yourself that you had to water them once the sun went down.

You stretched, butchering the high note on the song but belting it out regardless, and then you stopped dead when another, much more harmonious voice joined you. Apartments on the same floors technically all shared one long balcony, but it’d been divided by walls on either side so everyone could have their privacy. Thus, you couldn’t actually see who was out on their balcony. But the voice—male, for what you could tell—sounded impossibly close. They kept on singing along to your music, clearly not caring about being heard, and you ran back inside with a hand over your mouth, blushing like crazy.

You tripped on the rug and cursed out loud, knocking over a stack of books. Outside the voice laughed cheerfully and you wanted to bury yourself alive out in the garden. Thankfully, they said nothing after that and, not having seen their face, you managed to swallow down your embarrassment. You pushed back the feeling that you knew that voice, not wanting to even think about what neighbor had caught you singing like a teenager.

You came back from work one day feeling exhausted. You wanted nothing more than to climb into bed, listen to some music, and go to sleep. You stepped inside the building and immediately the guard stopped you in the lobby. He pointed you towards some boxes—at least ten boxes big enough to fit a medium-sized dog inside—and told you that they were yours. Of course they were. During your move a few of your things had gotten lost, you having moved from one end of Japan onto the other, and the moving company had promised you that the boxes had simply gotten mixed up in someone else’s move. You half believed that you’d never see those things again, but lo and behold, you got your things back. Now to get them up to your apartment all by yourself, since the guard couldn’t leave his post at the gate. Wonderful.

The first box was easy.

The third one felt a little heavier.

The seventh one had you gasping and you were honestly considering just leaving the rest of your stuff in the lobby until the end of times. You were tired and annoyed and hungry and still in your work clothes.

The elevator opened with a cheerful ding and you sighed, dragging your feet and taking another box with the word ‘books’ written on top. You attempted to lift it, the air leaving your lungs on that first attempt before you got a better hold of the box. Your back was killing you and your arms hurt, but you carried on towards the elevator. Unable to use your hands, you attempted to balance on one leg so you could free one hand just long enough to call the elevator, but no such luck. You lost your balance and, while you caught yourself in time, the box was heading straight for the floor. But then, fast as lightning, a hand reached out and caught the side you’d lost your grip upon.

“That was close! Almost missed a beat!” He said and you immediately smiled in relief.

“Thank you,” You said, a nervous laugh escaping you. You tried to take the box back, but the blonde man easily took it from you with a friendly smile. He was wearing a flattering red jacket and stylish black pants, his hair pulled back into a messy bun.

“I got it.”

You felt a little awkward, a little dumb, a thousand things, “I don’t wanna bother you.”

“No problemo. Happy to help!” He responded cheerfully, anchoring the box with his hip, and easily calling for the elevator himself. You felt hot under your shirt and you weren’t sure if it was because of the effort of the past boxes or what.

No, fuck it, you knew what it was.

“Hold on, let me get another one before the elevator gets here,” You said, practically running away. There were three boxes left, and you read over the words written on them to try and decide which one would be the easiest one to carry. Or should you take a heavier one? Which would be less embarrassing? You finally picked one that said ‘pictures’ and made your way back, getting inside the already open elevator. He looked over your head, chuckling at the sight of boxes still left behind. He put his box down and told you to wait and you watched in absolute dismay as he stacked the two remaining boxes one on top of the other, easily—easily, the smooth bastard— carrying them over.

You were beet red when he got in the elevator with you, his happy-go-lucky smile threatening to burn you.

“Not to pry, but what’s all this?” He said, almost teasingly, and you had to look away.

“Some boxes went missing during my move. I already got everything else in my apartment.” You said shyly. He hummed, nodding. When you got to the 14th floor, he got off the elevator with two boxes while you carried the other two, thankful that he’d allowed you to help him. He was the one helping you, you knew that, but you still felt embarrassed at the fact.

He’s just a normal neighbor, he’s being friendly.

You got to your door and you pushed it open with your hip, wincing internally at how plain and messy your place was. You lived alone and many of your things had been missing, so you hadn’t bothered with some of your things. Your favorite record was on the counter, right where he placed the boxes he’d helped carry. You turned to steal a glance at his face and you saw him pursing his lips together, trying almost in vain to bite a smile back and you wanted to jump out the window. Still, you inhaled slowly and pushed your embarrassment back, offering him a smile.

“Thanks for the help, really.”

“My pleasure. I’m here all week.” He shot at you with finger guns, almost posing as he did so, and you giggled. He was a little goofy, but you liked that.

“Do you want some help with unpacking?” He asked but you shook your head immediately. “N-no, I’m okay. Thank you, though, I really owe you one!” You gave him a wide, bright smile, and he stared at you for a second. His brows raised a little beneath his glasses and you looked down on instinct, thinking you’d made a weird face. Then you perked up, turning towards your kitchen.

“Oh! Would you like some water? I can also make some tea or coffee if you’d like!” You sounded nervous, you couldn’t help it, but you knew it was the polite thing to do now that he was inside your house.

“I’d love to, but I gotta bounce.” He said, smiling apologetically. You stopped to look at him and then, almost embarrassed, you walked towards the door by his side. “Duty calls, the crowd is cheering, you know how it is.”

You nodded, not really understanding what he meant but smiling regardless. He gave you a small salute and started walking away, you already closing your door behind him. Then, right before it locked,

“It’s Yamada, by the way.”

“Huh?” You asked, reopening the door and peeking your head out. He had another easy-going smile on his lips.

“My name. You told me yours but I haven’t told you mine. I’m Yamada.” With that, he left.

You closed your door with a dumb smile, pinching your cheeks to try and stop yourself from blushing like a teen. You were a grown adult for crying out loud, your cute neighbor helping you out shouldn’t be something to fluster over. Still, you smiled.

You sat right in the division between your balcony and your living room, wanting to feel the night breeze but also wanting to listen to your radio. The device was inside and the volume was low out of respect for your neighbors, and you sighed contentedly as one song ended and another began. Your breath blew away the steam coming out of your mug and you smiled, taking a small sip of your drink. It was a beautiful night, the view of the city looking as if stars had landed on the ground, lights twinkling everywhere.

You always had trouble falling asleep, no matter what you tried. Tea and music helped a little, but at your core, you were a night owl. Most days were the same, you working into the early morning just to make the most out of your nights, but Friday was different. Because on Fridays Present Mic did his radio show and you absolutely loved it. Three hours of music, both foreign and local, only interrupted by one of the most charismatic, funniest heroes out there. What wasn’t there to love?

And now that you had your new place, with that gorgeous view, well, you could’ve stayed out there forever.

“And we’re back! How did you like the new song, listeners?” A familiar, animated voice flowed out of your speakers.

“Tonight, my lovely listeners, I’d like to pose you all with a little situation.” He said, something he did every week without fault. He would ask something to the audience and then, after a few more songs, he’d read a few of the responses he got online. It was sweet and fun and a nice way to interact with his audience, not to mention the only way you had to even speak a word to the guy. For as long as you’d watched the show, your responses had only been read twice thus far and, while frustrated to not get your favorite hero’s attention more often, you were still happy with those two little shoutouts.

“Pardon if I get a little cheesy, but sometimes the melodies of the soul grow tender and you can’t help but wonder a few things.”

You took another sip of your tea, Twitter open in your phone just so you could answer as fast as possible.

“Do you think sometimes life works in our favor?” He paused, chuckled, and then cleared his throat. “See, I think we attract things our way. We write our own songs, if you will. But sometimes I’ll have these moments, where the universe really seems to be trying to get my attention and I won’t be able to tell if it’s really a sign as much as it is a coincidence, you feel me?”

You listened to him intently, your phone forgotten by your side. It was… odd. Really odd. You’d heard this man’s voice over the radio for years but something felt different at that moment. Maybe it was the tone of voice, or the subject being discussed, or who knows what, but you got a different feeling this time. But what was it?

“See, I’ve gotten a few this last week. And I’m sure you all get them all the time. And now I’m thinking that, maybe, if the universe sings to you, it’s only polite to join in, harmonize.”

Something crossed your mind, a quick flash, but you shook your head out of pure instinct. No. There was no way.

“My question, or challenge more like it, to you this week is this: if you think you’ve heard the call recently, answer it. Cause you never know who might be listening to you.”

You saw a flash of green eyes, you remembered two elevator rides, but you kept shaking your head. You even laughed, thinking yourself a total idiot. It was impossible, right? I mean sure the voice was eerily familiar, but that was just a coincidence...

Right?

“Of course, as the dutiful host that I am, I can’t ask you to jam out without a proper beat, so I’ll start. Here’s my attempt at seeing if this week has been anything other than coincidences.”

He went silent and you held your breath for a moment, your expression stuck somewhere between mocking and panicked. Then the next song started playing and it took you about two seconds to recognize it. Was the record sleeve still on the counter? Was the vinyl still beneath the needle, waiting to resume that same, exact song?

A few things crossed your mind at that moment. The superficial, more impulsive side of you kinda wanted to toss the radio out the window. The more intense side of you wanted to scream, because Goddammit, HOW HAD YOU NOT RECOGNIZED HIM AT ANY POINT!? Sure, the few times you two had crossed paths he’d been dressed in civilian clothes, he’d been wearing seeing glasses, and his hair had been held together by a simple bun, rather than the crazy updo that he usually wore. But still, you chided yourself, you’d shared an elevator with him twice already. You’d talked to him, face to face. He’d been inside your home, for crying out loud!

How? Hoooooow?

You groaned, letting your back hit the ground while you covered your face in absolute shame. You stayed down until the song was over and, as other songs played, you started going through every stage of grief, in order.

There was no way, absolutely no way. It was just a coincidence, that was all. Your neighbor just happened to be blonde and handsome and also happened to make a few musical references as he spoke, but that was normal. Anyone could do that. Besides, you’d never seen him in costume; there’s no way a respectable hero would go out wearing casual clothes. What if they ran into danger?

How had you not put the pieces together earlier? You were such an idiot, just talking to him as if he was a normal, cute guy. How had you let him carry your boxes for you!? He probably thought you were so dumb by now. How could you be so blind, so DEAF!? HE’D EVEN TOLD YOU HIS LAST NAME! Why had God cursed you with such stupidity?

At this point he started talking again, reading out some of the responses he’d gotten and encouraging people to ‘go for it!’

Oh God, there was no way you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. You’d never be able to listen to that song again without thinking of how badly you’d messed up, how badly you’d probably offended him by not recognizing him. You’d just moved in, too, and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to step foot outside again. Why had he even played that song? Had he been the one to sing with you and then laugh at you? Oh great. He knew you were an idiot. Wonderful. It was over. Your life was over.

No, wait, maybe there was some way to fix this. Maybe he hadn’t been the one to sing and laugh, maybe he’d just listened to that from his own balcony and found it funny. Maybe this ‘sign’ was meant for the other person, the one that sang so much better than you. Maybe you were making all of it up in your head, a stupid fan moment where you really wanted him to know you, really wanted to be that close to him without even knowing. Besides, you could still sell the apartment and move somewhere far away.

You groaned again, pulling at your hair. You stared at the ceiling as the music stopped, as he gave his audience his usual, animated goodnight, even as the night air grew colder. It must have been sometime past midnight when you finally decided to act like a normal adult once more. You got up, switched the radio off, and closed your balcony door. You heaved a sigh, suddenly craving another cup of tea and a nice, long bath.

You shoved a mug full of water inside the microwave, not in the mood to boil the water properly. You watched the cup go round and round, the loud humming of the appliance giving you a crumb of comfort. You had to relax, you told yourself. Everything would be fine.

The sound of the power outage mimicked a sad sigh, the absolute silence of your apartment slapping you in the face. You sighed, resting your forehead against the counter. If the universe really did send out signs, then you wanted to slap the universe smack dab across the face. You glanced outside and, sure enough, all of the buildings and houses in your area had been plunged into absolute darkness.

“Anything else?” You asked to the heavens, slightly annoyed.

From the hallway, you heard a loud crash and a high-pitched yelp, and you sighed as dramatically as you could. You grabbed your phone, turned on the flashlight, and ventured out.

It was kinda creepy, you weren’t gonna lie. You hadn’t lived in there for long enough to grow familiar with anything, so the pitch-black hallway made you shiver. It was like a horror movie set up, you thought as you turned. You’d look down the other end of the hall and a monster would be waiting for you, ready to strike you down.

Except, it wasn’t a ghost or a ghoul. It was Yamada—should you call him Present Mic? Which would be less awkward to you?— with his green eyes wide and his hands outstretched. He’d knocked over one of those silver cylinders where buildings hide their fire extinguishers and you blinked a little at the sight. Why did he look so guilty?

“You okay?” You asked, stepping out of your apartment. You were glad that the light was aimed away from you, cause you knew you looked flustered and dumb.

“My phone died.” He offered as an explanation and you nodded as he placed the metallic container back in place. You shined your light down the hall, landing on the elevator and shivering.

“Thank God you didn’t get trapped in there.” You murmured. He looked up at you, then at the elevator and you saw him shivering. When he turned to face you, he looked sheepish.

“That would have been quite the show ender, huh?” He chuckled and you kinda smiled at him in the dark. This wasn’t awkward, why were you making it awkward on yourself?

You shone your light on the ground so he could make it over to you without tripping again, not that there were any other obstacles in the way. He gave you a disarming smile and suddenly you wanted to run back into your apartment and never come out again. Still, with the power out, your nice side won the battle raging in your chest.

“Which one’s your apartment?” You asked, almost a mumble. Yamada looked at you, blinking a few times, and you waved the light around a little. “I’ll walk you over. Wouldn’t wanna leave you in the dark.”

“Thanks!” He said, in English, and you nodded. He guided you down the hall into apartment 1403, which was on the same side of the hall as your own. Remembering your improvised little concert from a few days ago, you blushed madly. Of course you shared balconies, why wouldn’t you.

“Home sweet home,” He said, looking for his keys amongst an endless amount of pockets. He finally found them and you couldn’t help but smile at the keychains dangling from his set of keys. He had a little black cat, a rose, a little cloud, and a rubber duck, the last one making you giggle quietly. He looked at you in the dark for a moment, not even trying to find the right key. After a few seconds he snapped out of it and he unlocked his door in a flash. He pushed it open a little and neither of you moved.

“Aren’t I lucky you of all people were awake to shine my path,” He joked, sounding more nervous than you’d ever heard him, even from his radio show.

“It’s okay,” You smiled kindly, fighting back your emotions. “I did own you one, after all.”

He chuckled, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck. There was a moment of silence, both of you trying to figure out just what you should do next. You moved your phone, the light illuminating the wall.

“Why are you up so late, anyway?” He asked you. You had to bite back a panicked laugh, the events of the night replaying in your head. Not too late to sell the apartment, you told yourself.

“I was making some tea,” You said lamely, hands fidgeting. It was such a dumb thing to say since it didn’t actually answer his question, but it was all you had. “But then the power went out and, I mean, my stove’s electric anyway. I guess I’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”

You added that last part as a segway, a crutch of sorts that would allow you to excuse yourself before you could say anything else that might make you look like more of a fool. It was a shame, really. If you weren’t so embarrassed right now then you might try to keep the conversation going. He was handsome and polite, after all. But no, you had too much in your head, songs and signs and vibrant green eyes and you should probably go now, you told yourself. You mumbled a polite ‘goodnight’ before turning on your heels, already set on going home. Behind you, Yamada hesitated. He swallowed thickly, cursed his dumb brain, and then,

“My stove’s not electric.”

You stopped, frowning.

“Huh?” You turned back, raising the light a little just so you could look at him without outright blinding him. He was playing with his keys, his eyes on the ground. Was that… a blush on his face?

“My stove works even without power,” He explained dumbly, eyes only focusing on you for one second at a time as he spoke. “And I have tea. I mean, I’m not… Do you wanna come inside?” He held out his hands, a quiet and shy offer now between you. It was an invitation, a question and a hopeful wish all in one and his face reflected that perfectly.

You blinked, feeling numb for a second before a warm, tingly feeling crawled up your arms. You wanted to bite back your smile, wanted to convince yourself that he was just being kind, but there were too many coincidences by now.

If the universe is calling, then it’s only polite to respond, right?

“I’d like that. A lot.” You said. His eyes opened wide, forest tones enclosed by a ring of lovely, pastel green, and you smiled. He grinned from ear to ear, finally opening his door fully and stepping aside to let you in.

You hummed for a second, feeling a lot braver than you had in a long while.

“By the way,” You said teasingly, “That’s not my favorite song in the album.”

He blinked, watching you walk into his home with an almost shocked expression. He finally laughed, closing the door behind you both.

[greatbigbellies]

New commission for @wesoftupinhere of their nb vampire being overdue with orc triplets! Contains multiples pregnancy, physical discomfort, some belly rubs, and overall wholesomeness! Enjoy, and go check out their art!

20 days. Just short of three full weeks. THAT’S how many days overdue they were. They were technically warned about this before taking on the contract. “Orcs are stubborn, and slow to wake. You could end up with whole weeks of extra gestation time,” she’d said. If only the vampire had listened. Now, eight and a half, pushing nine, months pregnant with three rowdy orcs… they were regretting their decision. 

So they did as they’d been doing for the last three weeks: waddling down the candle lit corridors of their mansion. Waddle, waddle, waddle. The soft, burgundy slippers padded along the ornate rugs that lay on the ground, out of sight of the surrogate due to their own massive, oblong belly. 

They wore a matching, dark red robe and pants, all of which parted to reveal a pale, pregnant belly, blushing pink slightly around the bellybutton, due to the sheer pressure. Their hands held the ballooning sides of their tummy, giving a little much needed support. Orcs were, as expected, heavy creatures, and storing three in one’s womb made it hard to even walk. Still, they walked, pacing the halls in hopes that they would go into labor soon. 

The pains of the pregnancy had been dull and aching, as their body grew accustomed to its three large occupants. They’d been a surrogate before, so they knew the sharp, stabbing sensation of a contraction. This seemed to never come. Instead they woke up each evening, hungrier, rounder, and heavier than the day before.

They grew momentarily frustrated with their predicament, groaning loudly. They gripped the sides of their beach ball sized belly and jostled it up and down slightly. “Why won't you come out!?” they moaned. All this did was cause the orc babies and amniotic fluid to slosh around in their overfilled womb, and resulted in a sharp kick in the ribs for their trouble. They pressed their fingers into the top shelf of their belly and groaned again, “You’re right I’m sorry. You’re just… very late…” they sighed, and continued waddling.

They walked past a mirror hung from the wall, and saw… nothing. Because they were a vampire, and had no reflection. They knew what they’d see if they did though. A tired, overdue, disheveled pregnant vampire, with nothing to do but pace. Their long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but still managed to be messy, loose strands laying anywhere they wished. Their belly was massive, sticking out so far they could barely reach around to their own navel, which was popped. It, and the skin around it had a pinkish hue from being so overstretched. How much bigger could they possibly get?

They pushed their hands into their lower back to try to get it to pop, but no such luck. They sighed. They were so tired… and they’d already slept for 14 hours today… they felt their tummy rumble slightly, and knew it was feeding time. “I’m making my way to the dining hall!” they called out. “So by the time my slow pregnant ass gets there I’d really like to see some food on that table!” they yelled to anyone within earshot. They weren’t usually this demanding, but being so overdue had made them cranky. They huffed and set off, their waddling gait carrying them forward, one labored step at a time

About 10 minutes later, a drop of sweat rolling down their forehead, they waddled into the dining area to see one of their help staff, a very diminutive goblin in a smart little suit, placing a piece of raw, bleeding steak on the huge, ornate table. The vampire waddled up to and flopped heavily into the chair, causing it to creak beneath their increased weight. The goblin folded his arms behind his back, and nodded toward the plate. “The food you requested, master,” the surrogate had always liked this particular member of the wait staff. He was dutiful, took his work seriously, and didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. “Thank you,” said the vampire simply before taking a piece of red meat in his hands and biting into it. The taste of blood and raw red steak hit their tongue and instantly they felt better. It seemed like their mouth wasn’t big enough to handle the amount of food they wanted to eat.

“Where did we get this stuff?” they asked. The goblin tilted his head to the side in thought. “I-I’m not sure, master, I’ll have to ask the kitchen staff,” he replied. The vampire nodded between large bites. “Wherever it’s from, I want more of it. Probably the best tasting thing I’ve eaten in weeks,” they said. The goblin nodded. “The cooks have been trying to select things that you’re craving, master. T-they really do want to keep you happy,” said the well dressed goblin as he watched the surrogate’s belly. The orcs inside reacted to the incoming meat with a flurry of visible kicks, eliciting a groan from the vampire as they started on their second steak. 

“Ugh… they’re so active when I eat…” they said, to themselves as much as to their companion. The goblin looked up at their tired face sympathetically. “Awfully rambunctious for orges,” noted the goblin. “They’re orcs, and about as rambunctious as one would expect from orcs,” corrected the surrogate. The goblin nodded, then smiled wholesomely. “Orc babies are so cute,” he placed his index fingers at the edges of his mouth, mimicking tusks. “Their cute little tuskies are so dull and nubby!” they grinned. The vampire smiled weakly before taking another bite. Their dumb little baby tusks were actually really cute.

Their belly visibly distorted as one of the orcs rolled around inside them, causing them to wince. “Could you… y’know…” they gestured to their mammoth midriff. “What, master?” the goblin tilted his head again. The vampire sighed. “Could you… rub my belly please? It’s achy and my hands are full of food,” the goblin’s eyes widened at the request, but he simply nodded and stepped forward. He reached his gloved hands out to the huge belly that rested between the surrogate’s legs, bumping and nudging with movement. The goblinoid had never been this close to it before, and he took a moment to appreciate that he could probably fit inside of it if he curled up tightly enough. He very slowly and gingerly placed his hands on the front, lower hemisphere of the vampires pinkened belly, and rubbed little circles, applying the least amount of pressure possible. “Like this, master?”

They swallowed another bite and shook their head, a motion that the goblin couldn’t see past the belly. “Bigger circles, and a little more pressure. It’s a tummy, it’s not going to hurt you,” they sighed. The satin gloves felt amazing on their overstretched skin, but they needed a little more ‘oomph’ to stave off the ache of their muscles. The goblin’s open hands ran larger, slower circles, and he pushed slightly into the belly, causing the vampire to coo and lean back a little. “Yeah, like that. That’s nice,” 

They slowly chewed the last morsel of meat, and closed their eyes. The shredded strips of steak oozed slightly, coating their tongue in delectable blood. They swallowed and sighed, focusing on the sensation of a pair of small three fingered hands on their bare bump. The soft, cool satin fabric glided over the warm, firm skin of their underbelly, and applied just enough pressure to be relieving. The goblin paused when one of the baby orcs kicked directly into the palm of his hand. “Was that…?” he trailed off. “A foot,” they stated plainly.

The goblin nodded, and continued rubbing. A comfortable silence hung between the pair as the surrogate received the much needed pampering. Eventually the goblin spoke up again. “Is it… possible to hear the heartbeats?” he asked. The vampire thought for a moment, “Maybe. My midwife uses a stethoscope to listen, but you’re welcome to try,” they shrugged. The goblin smiled proudly, wiggling his large, green, pointed ears. “Us goblins have excellent hearing!” he wrapped his arms around the sides of the vampire’s belly and placed an ear next to their bellybutton. They closed their eyes and listened closely. The vampire smiled.

“I can hear them!” they exclaimed, before getting kicked in the face by one of the orcs. The surrogate placed a hand on the top shelf of their belly and smiled down at the little goblinoid. “What are your duties, little goblin?” they asked. The goblin released their tummy and took a few steps back, furrowing his brow in thought. “Well… sometimes I help in the kitchen with dishes… sometimes I’m bussing tables… I’m one of the wait staff when we have guests over! But… you haven’t had guests in a while…” he listed, trailing off. The vampire chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t really invite people over when I’m too big to entertain…” they patted their belly lightly.

The goblin nodded again. He was an avidly good listener. The vampire realized that, despite carrying three people with them at all times… they were lonely. They idly rubbed their tummy and looked down at the diminutive goblin, who stood with his hands folded behind his back, ready for another request. “Tell you what, if you help me up, and walk with me for a spell, you can have the rest of the night off,” they offered. The goblin grinned widely, “Okay!” he stepped forward and took the vampires hands. “Pull backward as hard as you can okay?” they instructed. “Won’t that hurt you? I’m very strong,” he warned. The surrogate blinked for a moment, then smiled again. “I’ll be okay,” they said, “On the count of three, okay? One… two… three,” the goblin gripped their hands tightly and pulled back, helping the overdue vampire get to their feet, they released his hands and stood upright, eliciting a cacophony of popping noises from their lower back.

“Ooph… okay, that was perfect, thank you,” they exhaled. The goblin flexed in his little suit, a truly adorable gesture. “Told you I was strong, master!” he said. The surrogate smiled, showing their sharp fangs. “Where are we walking to?” he asked. The vampire took one heavy-footed step, then another, toward the hall they’d come from. “Right now, we just walk. No destination in mind, just walking,” they sighed. The goblin nodded and fell into step next to them, having no trouble keeping up despite being so much smaller.

“I’ve seen you walking a lot lately. It seems like all you do is walk around and take breaks to eat. Are you worried about something?” he asked. “No, no…” they padded along, supporting the bloated sides of their belly. “Not worried, just tired. Walking will help the babies get ready to be born,” they explained. The goblin tilted his head to the side, “But you sleep so much! How could you be tired?” he said, quite candidly and meaning no offense. The vampire rolled their eyes, but couldn’t help being amused at the goblin’s honesty. “Well, being pregnant takes a lot of energy. Being pregnant with three takes more energy. And being pregnant with three rowdy, overdue orcs somehow takes even more,” they explained, holding up their tummy for emphasis.

The goblin looked at the vampire’s gigantic belly and understood. “Do you need me to rub it again?” he asked. “Maybe later… thank you though,” the pair fell into another comfortable silence. The surrogate vampire waddled along, their long legs carrying them forward with slow, heavy steps. The goblin, on the other hand, meandered along next to them, taking much quicker, smaller steps with his much shorter legs. The pair made their way into a hallway with large, bay windows, providing a panoramic view of the night sky. It was a full moon tonight, and the vampire found themselves thankful they weren’t carrying werewolves this time. They glanced down at their little goblin friend, who dutifully walked next to them, and felt a second wind hit at the thought of their companionship. Perhaps they didn’t have to feel so lonely while pacing these long, moonlit halls.

[atmilliways]

I was channeling exhausted Charles a little hard, because gd is moving tiring... I know I have some messages I should really get to answering, and I promise that will happen soon. 

Anyway, happy belated birthday, @insomniac-pens!

Charles is couch surfing against his will; Emeto mention; Implied/Referenced Drug Use; Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; Early klok

C'mon, Charlie, Stay

There was, for a brief period, a time when Charles was between apartments due to an unfortunate infestation problem that had allowed him to break his lease early. It allowed him to lease a much better place, closer to both his office and the new band he was managing, but with one catch: it wouldn’t be available for him to move in for another six weeks.

To his surprise, once the band found out about this they flat out refused to leave him alone until he agreed to crash on their couch. No amount of pointing out that he had the money to just stay in a hotel until his move-in date seemed to sway them. So, he dutifully shelled out his hotel money to pay for Dethklok’s apartment to be professionally cleaned and the couch reupholstered, and that was that. 

Except, dear god, when did these men sleep. 

Charles tried to think of them as men, but frankly it got harder the longer he stayed with them. Murderface had only recently turned twenty-one, and Nathan and Toki were still technically underage; that didn’t stop them or Skwisgaar or Pickles from constantly partying themselves stupid. 

In the very living room (which they also used for band practices) where he was trying to sleep. 

The last straw was when they gave Toki shrooms for the first time and he puked all over the coffee table, including the glasses that Charles had carefully folded and placed there before settling in for the night. Without a word of complaint or reprimand, he was simply up and packed and dressed enough to drive to the nearest hotel, because this was clearly not working.

“Dood dood dood, where’re ya going?” Pickles gabbled, dragging on the manager’s arm as he tried to head out of the front door. 

“To get a hotel room, a hot shower, and a good night’s sleep,” Charles replied, although personally he felt that this should have been obvious. 

“But you can do all that here!”

Charles sighed, resettling his duffle bag on his shoulder. “Thank you, Pickles, but we both know it’s, ah, only a matter of time before I get vomited on, and cleaning my glasses off was unpleasant enough.”

As if on cue, there were more retching sounds from further inside the apartment, followed by shouts and whoops of “He got the couch,” “That’sch twenty points,” and “Directs hits, everiesones does to takes the drink-shots!”

Pickles grimaced. “Okay, so maybe the kid wasn’t ready for caps. That’s my bad, I’m sahrry. But dood, you should still stay. . . .” He trailed off, looking around with a kind of urgent disappointment that Charles had only previously seen when the drummer was trying to find a misplaced stash. Then, with an uncertain grin, he added, “You can, uh, you can stay in my room if ya want.” 

“Ah. . . .” Charles blinked. He was very, very tired, and not entirely sure he’d heard that correctly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s got a door’n everything,” Pickles continued, obviously warming to the idea as soon as he saw that Charles wasn’t rejecting it outright. “You can even have the bed, I can ride the floor. Which I can actually see again now, thanks again for hirin’ those cleaners, dood! And I think I can even find ya some clean sheets and stuff. C’mon, Charlie, stay.”

So, soon afterward, Charles found himself back in his pajamas. They were just the t-shirt and boxers that he’d thrown a jacket and slacks over to leave, really, which by his temporary housemates’ standards apparently made him a prude. He was also swaddled in clean sheets and blankets on Pickles’ bed, as promised, and Pickles had receded back out to the party with a vague, Sleep tight, dood. Despite the lumpiness of the mattress Charles was actually quite comfortable and, with the door closed and the lights off, fairly well insulated against the noise of the band’s continued revelry. 

He was asleep within seconds. 

Some time later Charles woke not to loud noise or something landing on him, but because he had to pee. Not bothering to find his glasses or slippers in the dark (though he was wearing socks; he wasn’t an animal), he slipped out of bed and shuffled towards the door—

His foot connected with something warm and soft, possibly a stomach, and someone groaned, “Oof.” 

“Shit,” Charles muttered. He groped along the nearby wall for a light switch. “Ah . . . Pickles, is that you?”

The lights snapped on harsh and bright, and it was indeed Pickles curled up on the floor, red dreads spayed out like fireworks against the dingy carpet, without even a pillow or blanket. “Yeeeeeeah?” Pickles replied blearily, squinting up at him. 

Charles sighed. The last thing they needed was Pickles unable to play gigs because he’d tweaked his back or neck sleeping on the floor—although, in the short time he’d known the man, Charles had seen him passed out in worse positions. Still, couldn’t be too careful while Dethklok was still starting out. 

“Get in bed,” Charles told him. 

“Nnnn.” Pickles rubbed clumsily at his eyes and swiped and the drool that had collected on his goatee. “You get the bed, couch’s fucked fer now. . . .”

It was only a twin-sized mattress. Charles squinted back at it, then gave a mental shrug. “We’ll share. Just get in, I’ll, ah, be right back.”

He stepped over Pickles and headed for the bathroom. Both the toilet and sink were splattered liberally with vomit, enough that he doubted it had all come out of Toki. He hadn’t smelled any on the man he’d just invited to bunk with him, which . . . was all Charles had the energy to care about, at the moment. He sighed again and just pissed in the bathtub, because fuck it, he was still half asleep. 

When he returned, Pickles had already burrowed into the blankets in the dead center of the bed. Not in the mood to be deterred, Charles turned the light off and wedged himself into the available free space on the mattress. 

“Mmmhey,” Pickles mumbled drowsily somewhere near his shoulder. 

“Scoot over,” Charles grumbled back, and when he got no response gave another shove with his hip. That seemed to get the message across because Pickles did scoot, squirming over and turning into him, clinging to Charles’ arm. 

“‘S cold over here,” Pickles offered in explanation. He was pressed close all along the other man’s side, mouth closer to his ear in the darkness; his breath smelled of whiskey, cigarettes, and reefer. “‘Mglad you stayed, Charlie. Hotels fuckin’ suck . . . this is better, isn’t it?”

“Hm,” Charles hummed. All he really wanted to do was settle in and go back to sleep—although the warmth of a body next to his was nice. The hint of smoke was nice too, despite it having been years since he’d given it up himself. Lulling. Like a steady surf washing over him, pulling back, washing over him again. His eyes drifted closed and he felt himself relax, sinking into the mattress as far as the uneven springs would allow. 

Then, a warm press of lips against his, so soft and tentative that at first he thought it was a dream—he often dreamed that way, slipping from real to unreal so quickly the change was imperceptible. And if it was a dream, why not kiss back? Charles let his lips part, turning into it, that warmth, placidly enjoying the gentle scratch of facial hair against his own clean shaven face. 

It was the arm suddenly draped over him that gave him pause. That felt real, a solid palm splayed as near to the small of his back as it could get while he still lay mostly flat. A body leaning flush into his, silently crying out for closeness. Pickles. 

Pickles tasted like a shot of Fireball in a dim, crowded bar. 

Charles blinked his eyes open, breaking the kiss with a hand on the man’s shoulder. A client. A boss, if the band ever made it as big as he was determined to ensure they would. This was a huge breach in his personal code of professionalism. 

“Charlie?” Pickles whispered, and it sounded so much like a plea (I want you, I need you, please don’t stop) that Charles gave his shoulder what hopefully came across as a reassuring squeeze. 

“Pickles,” he murmured gently, “you’re drunk. I’m, ah, not sure this is a good—”

“I’m always drunk,” Pickles interrupted, mumbling petulantly. 

True enough. Charles just hoped the fame and fortune would kick in before lover failure, for all the guys. Boys, really, playing around with their music and drugs and anyone they could get into bed with them. . . . Case in point. 

He just wished he wasn’t so damn tired. Or at least that he was awake enough to handle this situation with the delicacy it deserved, because he hesitated, and sensed instinctively that Pickles noticed. 

Still, he said, “Regardless, I don’t, ah, think this is a good idea.”

“So? Make a bad decision fer once, gahd.” Then Pickles kissed him again, throwing a leg over his manager for good measure and crowding into him once more with an urgent but surprisingly slow rhythm. 

Charles had only known Pickles for several months—personally, anyway, but he wasn’t about to admit to being a Snakes N Barrels fan back in the day now—and had seen his usual approach to getting into someone’s pants. It usually involved lots of smiling, suggestive looks, wandering hands, and friendly offers to share whatever drugs he had on hand at the time. 

Not once had he turned those attempts at charm towards Charles. He’d been insistent, stubbornly helpful, and . . . nervous. Even now, there was a fluttery quality to his grip, as though he expected to be pushed away more than anything else. Charles wasn’t very good at reading this sort of thing, and was only catching up on all this in retrospect, but Pickles seemed to be acting as though this actually  mattered  or something. 

And Charles was tired, and it felt nice. Warm and comfortable. Pickles was drunk; maybe he wouldn’t remember by morning. 

He let himself kiss back, and by the time he fell asleep again it was with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. 

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 16)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 15.1

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: A horny and insecure witcher decided to talk what his mind has been keeping; making you see how much of a man he was that was worth to choose and be chosen. 

Warnings: NSFW 18+. (Yep. Again. Love it while it lasts, bb’s. Hehehe.) Some witcher in a rut. Finger sucking. Cream pie. Smut. Size kink. (I meant Geralt’s body build. LMAO *I base this story on the show. Not the game or books.*) an irritated bard? Ahehehehe. Nakedness? Geralt being soft and honest? (*screams*)

A/N: I was drained from the last chapter and I’ve taken a break. I was supposed to not update today due to it. I hope you can lend at least a minute to reblog or give me feedback, ghost readers out there! 💟 There ain’t no moments like this anymore because the plot will take its place on the next chapters! ENJOY WHILE IT LASTS!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi (GIF credits: littlechinesedoll)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

GERALT OF RIVIA WAS IN A RUT.

You were sure he was after being fucked into oblivion by the witcher for countless of times already; taking a lot of orgasms in just about eight hours? He was lucky that he was a mutant. However, in your side? It was unfortunate because your stamina was weaker than his.

Your poor punani has been overworked and wrecked again. Lungs seem to be incapacitated, dangerously reaching the critical level for accepting Geralt's wishes; another round of ceaseless bliss in which you certainly didn't defy. Pants and wheezes were muddled against the mattress as you shoved your face on it, vigorously being burrowed from behind.

Here you thought; feeling mighty and confident that you could take and last for how long his enhanced self would.

Technically, you were wrong. Utterly wrong.

Was it round twenty-five already? Thirty? You may never know because every time Geralt finishes, his girth somehow magically becomes stone hard again like he never spilled himself inside you. If only he wasn't sterile, you were probably about to get pregnant with little witchers somehow based on how he always milks you in; like you were his pet, letting you take it good.

The white wolf's libido was overly developed as well. As you were told by the man, himself. He could go on for hours, days and even weeks, nailing you repeatedly until you have no energy to comprehend what was happening, and you were sure that his enhancement with the desires he had was a perk and also a disadvantage for your weak self who had her virginity taken just days ago.

Your sexual experiences are being expanded and learned by Geralt, not knowing before that you had a size kink of being choked in his own weight above yours, baptizing every nook and space in their home like animals in heat and being treated like you were such a fragile little thing before being corrupted; tainting your once chastised soul.

The witcher was a person who had given you a different outlook in life. Bringing you to a wonderland in the midst of being railed repeatedly; consistent with his rigorous, shameless pounding from the back. Brusque. Sharp. Perfect for the angle that hits the perfect spot, polishing your hole that has sent you ripples and waves of glory.

Geralt's moans were withdrawn, holding back those sounds of pleasure from ponderously watching his girth push and slither inside your heat. His mouth tightly shut and thick eyebrows scrunched in rapture. Aureate eyes intensely concentrated on his hard cock slowly drilling back, keeping his bulbous head in before slowly drawling back like he like watching you be filled with his girth; admiring how you were stretched around his hardened cock.

He'd felt your body intensely tremble beneath his.

Your knees were quivering with every plunge. Warm drizzles of your cunt leaking with a mixture of his fluid and yours together; like art combined with a color that creates a new one. The room smelled like sex and sweat with a scent of fresh grass because of how the windows were wide opened.

Nobody would see you both in such a debauched position, right? you've thought that when Geralt has lowered you down against the mattress, his weight crushing and pinning you down, quickly getting to his job; sticking his girth inside of you like he never would get tired of doing so after basically baptizing the hallway through the second floor.

Elbows began to feel sore. A desperate whine began to gurgle from your dry throat. Hand tightly grabbing onto one of his that laid on the curvatures of your hips, dragging you back to his swollen girth with every shove; filling you over and over like how you deserved because you've been a good girl. Every time he did, Geralt never misses the spot that could bring you into another restless, writhing orgasm.

The filthy sound of skin slapping on skin came with icherous slimy caresses of your nectar coating each other's carnal greed. Noise came with his bedpost hitting the wall like a maddened gorilla raging out of its cage, when all of a sudden; you've heard Kolby's strange bark that seem to come from the first floor, alarming you both that his family has already came back. Yet, here you were, splayed below the witcher and still getting driven to his extremes.

Geralt pulled his hand away from the bed post, leaving a print and a crack of his hand against the wood. His fingers slid through your dangling breasts, palms groping your teat as he began to knead onto it like a cat trying to suckle from his mother; claws out as he tweaked your sensitive nipple in one breast to the other. Simultaneously changing hands as he continued to reach you both to the edge of Nirvana.

Then, you've heard laughter and complaining downstairs.

"Geralt," you started with a mewl, your body being rocked from behind, the sheets thoroughly disheveled from your tiring day activities. His hand that fondled your teat trailed up your body; while the other glided down for what throbbing nub that was needed attention for another release.

His palm gently met your mouth when you've began to moan from his fingers touching your clit, rubbing and circling it the right, pleasuring way while he went on with his ceaseless ramming.

"Hnnng," you whimpered, voice muffled from his large, calloused hand that covered your mouth; hushing you from any noise that could echo out of the room.

The way he was manhandling you does it. From the moment he tried shushing you up, your heat began to clench around him. Your body squirming and thrashing under his skin. Weakened from the sudden action as it made you tremble; feeling the coil beginning to snap with just a few more jabs.

More thuds and unfathomable complaints echoed outside the room. With Jaskier finally knowing what caused the commotion that he somehow managed to be in. Geralt didn't seem to be bothered about the fact that their table has been wrecked; though, the bard might say otherwise.

His plowing slackened when you’ve felt him breath heavily from behind, 

"Shhhh. Quiet down, midget." he clasped his palms tighter on your mewling mouth; hearing his breathless grunts above you was making you squirm in his hold. It didn't take you another lewd moan when Geralt's thick index and middle finger skid in between the pillows of your lips, an act of pacifying your noise down which has gotten an elicit of your juices flowing down your thighs, soaking you more than ever. But, you never did deliberate to suck on those fingers like how your mind has told you.

The smutty action was enough for him to briefly glance down at you, engrossed and captivated by a never expected bustles from his naive, greenhorn of a woman. 

Another weakened moan was muffled beneath the palm that clasped your mouth. Your fingers trying to wrench his own away from slightly pinching on your sensitive clit, dragging you to where you wanted.

Neverland. Nirvana. Heaven. Where ever you could experience bliss.

Or basically Geralt's bed because you were currently being brought to the edge of the rainbows.

He was persistent and continued rubbing on your nub, his thick, long fingers thoroughly drenched from your arousal. 

"Ugh---Hmm. fuck." the white haired witcher deeply grunted and moaned, his jutting hips bottoming out as he continued his desperate, urgent drives. Thrusts turning reckless. Panting breaths like dogs in heat; embracing every bit of his urgency to reach the floating clouds.

Your real name has slipped out of his tongue, sounding so lewd which has taken you over the edge. Knees began to shake as the high took over. Muscles clenching and also your cunt tightly choking his girth to spill his seed, urging him to thoroughly coat your insides. Another loud breathless grunt left his ajar lips; the sweat dripping down his temples as it also drenched his chest from all the activities. His heartbeat was running miles after miles, chasing to catch yours.

"G-Geralt, Geralt, Geralt!" you've salaciously cried out with every sloppy thrusts in the midst of having a muscle spasm; choking in the blast of euphoria when he'd took his hand off your mouth, grabbing onto yours which has been holding onto the headboards for dear life. Hence, as the witcher pulled your hand away; he'd done the unexpected.

Geralt of Rivia has sweetly peppered the back of your hands with honeyed kisses to soothe your convulsion; treating you like he wasn't fucking you to oblivion nor corrupting you from behind.

You've heard his breath hitch. The way he'd dropped his large hand on the mattress over your small ones, gripping onto it hard; you knew he came. He'd panted heavily above you, the new position being surrounded by his gigantic warmth. Your juices soaking your inner thighs as his load shot inside you. All warm and cozy; giving you a fuzzy feeling inside your chest that you couldn't explain.

He never pulled out until he was finished. You were so full of him, his seed dripping out of your cunt when his semi-flaccid cock dragged out of your overused pussy, telling him how he’d filled you more than he planned to. Your knees eventually buckled and lost its will to be useful for you; your face down on the pillow, running short of breath as you planted over the tousled sheets.

Geralt laid on the bed beside you, his large body built turned to you with an arm tucked below his head. Basking in all his glory and sweat with amber eyes solely worried for your weary form. You sounded like you were wheezing as he hovered over to pull the blankets over your waist, shielding you over the cold, crisp wind of the afternoon dew. Your whole body coated in the satiny sliver of your sweat combined with his and the witcher couldn't help but take in the view that he longed to be habituated once again before you came along.

Did he...actually break you while being drilled? he silently thought at the back of his tousled, half tied chalky white hair.

"Midget?" He softly muttered, using an elbow to peer down before you. Aureate eyes lingering a little bit longer. His fingers extending to graze along the line of sweat that covered your spine before reconsidering, hands ought to brush your disheveled hair away from your face, taking his time as he glided his fingers down through the side of your face.

He doted on the spent image of your sprawled body in the middle of his bed. Your heart turning more warmer than it ever could when you've felt him watching you over, the blankets glazing atop of your skin as you've closed your eyes, trying to steady back your breathing.

"I'm...fine. Just...spent. Let me...breathe," you breathlessly whispered.

"Hmm."

His faint, vibrating hum slowly calmed the fluttering butterflies flapping their wings inside your stomach. He earnestly cast his eyes over you. The thick pad of his fingers tracing along the hairs of your arm; giving you a shiver, padding down till the tips of yours before strikingly filling in the gaps of your fingers with his. Such a simple action making your heart feel snug with a hint of palpitation from the sudden, unusual gesture from the white wolf.

Well, he was certainly learning.

You've taken a peek from under the flat fuzz of your pillows; seeing amiable, tired, tender eyes. Rough, large palms delicately scraping through your soft ones, entwined amongst the unkempt silk of sheets from the result of your passionate tupping.

With your eyes still shut, a jaded admission was sent to the latter; assuming things from your negative state of mind. This always happens in the movies, right? the small voice in the back of your mind stated. After all the blissful moments, complication and problems tries to hinder over the blithe that wanted you to believe that this was a much of a miracle to happen.

It was subtly telling you that your presence in their world had a time limit because you didn't belong to their world in the first place. Salt came pinching down your heart at the sudden realization of that; getting a gist of feeling by choosing to live in their world forever, there were instances that would get you coming back from your dimension. Every felicitious moment feeling like it was all temporary and a fleeting scene in your mind.

The idea struck like a lightning. You didn't belong to their world; nor do you fit in.

Such a change of heart that you wanted to scurry home since the first day you've arrived; thinking that everything was just a dream or a nightmare that couldn't wake you up. But, in this exact moment; you felt like not wanting to go home.

"Why do I feel like you wouldn't come back after your hunt?" you weakly muttered; brushing off the infectious thought that could bring the felicity down; pulling yourself closer to him. You've tossed the bad shadows trying to lure you in as you've focused on the golden light that Geralt could let you see through. His warm breath fanned your face as you heavily sighed out the worry crippling out of your chest.

"You're overthinking." he deeply rasped, hearing him breath steady; sounding like his declaration had a double meaning. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he continued to reassure your troubled self, "---I never leave nor would I plan to. My family is my home,"

Geralt collected his thoughts, breaking through the spell you've always had to cast him in. Only your exquisite scent being the fire to thaw his walls down. It took him seconds before bluntly saying his next words, making you flutter your eyes open to see him softly smiling back at you. His tone warm, comforting and nesh for your sensitive, soft heart soul.

"---you are also my home. I'll always come back to you---always will find you,"

Those words that he stunningly said made your heart skip a beat. The cicatrix glowing beneath the sheets without you knowing, ecstatic of what has come out from his lips as a burst of bliss spread right through your chest.

You've felt the adrenaline rush from his sudden admission and change of aura; abruptly making you nail your elbows on the table, repeatedly blinking back at the witcher when you've felt the balmy cloud of warmth spread around your eyes; close enough for you to cry and you languidly leaned down to his very peaceful face to softly give him a kiss on the lips in which he gladly reciprocated.

No. This wasn't sweet nothings where he tries to win over your heart. His words was a declaration of breaking those walls down for you. It was a key for you to come hopping in, an invitation of seeing the real him; his vulnerable side that nobody ever sees.

Hence, this was the first time you've had someone showing you what it felt to be important, needed and cared for. A person with real intentions. Sensations which you never knew it existed or believed that you would ever get to experience such.

Nevertheless, it took you a trip to another dimension just to have it.

Your mouth left his with a euphonious twang. There was no rush to the kiss or any type of greed. Just a succulent sharing of what you wanted him to feel from your quiet response of what he said. It needed no words of approval or even a shedding of your tears; erasing the worries away if you started bawling your eyes out from his secrets that he whispered. His thick brows furrowed in a questionable expression, intently eyeing your dewy peepers staring back at him. Utterly fond. The witcher feeling as if there was profound affection deep within your eyes as you tried to shield them over with that twinkling gaze of yours.

He knew what he was seeing or feeling from you. But, he chose to ignore as of the moment.

"Jaskier's fond of you," he abruptly admitted, downright apathetic; his gravel tone expressing a mixture of interest and a little bit of doubt, not for you but for himself.

That simple display of what you've visibly felt made your heart soften a lot more than it ever could. Finding it hard to believe that this person slash mutant in front of you also had his own issues, sounding diffident with just conferring about this surprising fact he noticed from his friend who seemed to be catching feelings for you that certainly was quite difficult to believe.

You were biting the tips of your tongue from saying anything further more, pulling back from driving too fast that maybe Geralt was falling behind.

"Jaskier? Your Jaskier? The bard who always tries to ruin my day? you’re hallucinating, Geralt." you wanted to snort from his accusation.

Geralt has given you a dirty look, appearing to look like he has issues with you that he didn't want to expand as he kept his silence and continued to send a grimace. Was he hallucinating? Were he hallucinating when he'd read those words upon your lips hours ago? Was your endearment just a slip of your tongue? A simple caught up in the heat of the moment?

Was he also just hallucinating when you’ve called him ‘love’?

"Am I, really?" the witcher stated flat, sending a displeased hum as he subtly played with the softness of your fingers clutched to his bigger ones.

Your eyes turned wide from his deadpan, "What did I do? That banter sounded sarcastic, kitty!"

The latter slowly blinked, dragging a sigh as his baritone timbre turned stern and also meek no matter how hard he tried to cover it up from the roughness that he wanted it to sound like, you could read between the lines and sure enough, he was self-effacing from his friend who was also fond of you.

"Do...you like the bard?" he hesitatingly trailed off. The question ending with a pause as it sounded completely unforthright. You've given him a tender beam; child like and masking with nothing but innocence, affection and understanding, "Go on. I'm listening. Tell me what's on your mind," you started, seeing his tight lipped mouth shut. Those amber eyes briefly looking away from you,

"---Come on, please? Let me understand and see through the good heart that I've always believed in,"

Geralt gave it a moment. Exactly a minute as you've accepted the tranquil silence with him. Such silence that you have never imagined to be so comforting because back in your apartment, the stillness was eerie and cold; imagining hands trying to take your soul away from surviving a life by working in another country where you had no one but you.

"You're...significant to me." his glowing amber eyes turned heartfelt, shooting warmth through your skin and chest, "---you are a lot to handle. An unorthodox in my dimension. Yet, despite that, you're the havoc I didn't know I needed,"

"You're calling me chaotic. How sweet of you," you deadpanned, snorting from his metaphors that got you successfully rolling your eyes back at him.

"Your existence brought me sheer confusion about you. But, I'd rather have that befuddlement than to not be with you,"

Destiny brought you to him. Those assumptions he'd taken into consideration was now taken into account. Thus, destiny just needed this to not fuck it up. It shouldn't because he much rather not imagine how it would happen nor how he would be able to accept such fate laid before him. 

"Jaskier's...a friend---he's important to me," he continued, feeling your other hand fall onto the side of his face; soft fingers tracing along the scar on his forehead and cheekbones with that glimmer in your eyes that make him want to give you another kiss; readable in your peepers was the acceptance he never knew he needed so badly, "---No matter how annoying he is. He's still my companion. A real...friend. I've seen how comfortable you are with him, saw how compatible you were with the bard,"

You've stopped brushing your fingers along his marks. Your free hand sluggishly propping below your chin as you've peered down. A small grin curling your lips, "When have you been a love guru? Does this version of you come up with a graphic chart that tells how many percentages do I seem to be compatible with Jaskier?"

He kept silent, staring straight into your eyes with a lukewarm expression; not understanding your references.

You've given him a faint raise of your brow, skeptically looking at him with an amused flicker of your peepers, "You've seen us that night. Explains why Jaskier was ranting about the door you've broken,"

Geralt kept his mouth tightly shut, shortly looking away before giving you a pensive response, "I've already fixed it---and you know it was not just about that,"

Pulling your closed fist under your chin, you've tilted your head to the side. Pleased by his tamed reaction as you've leaned closer to his face, adoring Geralt's sublime features that never fails to charm you everyday. His charisma totally knocking your wits out as you could finally see more of his true self.

You started, your words smoothly dancing per word; sounding utmost sincere and in wonder, "People in your world say witchers don't feel emotions," even being disregarded like they weren't humans, you silently added much more to yourself when you paused to talk, "---Well, my witcher is exactly the opposite because you're full of it even though you sound unenthusiastic all the time---comes with the mutations, I guess?"

The soft look in his eyes warmed your soul. Attentive of the stars that seem to float inside those amber pair; looking like he'd caught them for you. He stayed silent, never breaking his gaze away from you nor planning to move away from your body close to his.

"Do you want me to be with the bard?" your question caught him off guard, keenly reading through what your eyes wanted to say. The query sounding like it was just a quip.

"Will that make you happy?"

Geralt warily asked, completely earnest of what he said that made you bite the inner plump of your lips. There was a long amount of silence, contemplating what made him think that way, even considering the idea of never getting in the way when you'll choose another person than him. Was he even real?

Your smile fell a little at the question, swiftly unwrapping your hands entwined with his which ignited a tight frown from the witcher when he miscalculated the sudden gesture. But, those dreadful thoughts ceased when you've poked his muscular chest, the part where his heart loudly beat beneath the pad of your index finger.

"Will that make...YOU happy?" you slowly emphasized and returned the question, intently gazing above him. When he never answered and stayed quiet, it was the right time to say words that couldn't be kept to yourself. You've forgotten to bite your tongue from saying anything further less.

"---But, YOU make me happy, Geralt of Rivia. Isn't that enough reason to choose you?"

Keen golden eyes deeply gazed into yours, as genuine than it has ever been before; sucking you in and having no chance to escape from the resplendent color of his hues. Geralt moved beneath to help himself by using his elbow, his sudden elevation making you tilt your head back to see him deeply staring, mouth turning into a tight straight line as he rasped.

"Even if it takes for your life back in your world to be taken away from you---fuck." he abruptly stopped in the middle of his sentence, briskly taking a glimpse of the door behind you when he could hear stealthy padded footsteps hiking up the stairs. 

Jaskier.

Geralt sharply sat his back on the headboard. His silvery, unkempt half-tied hair moving as he does so, the white sheets pooling just below his torso. He looked bedraggled and utterly sweaty which made it feel so fulfilling to have him in your presence looking like that. A miraculous snack. You could never have this opportunity back in earth.

You bit your lips from keeping yourself from grinning, curiously eyeing him as you mused. He deliberately scanned your exposed back, "What? What's happening?"

The latter took no questions and quickly pulled the covers over your shoulders as you laid on your front, slightly elevated with the help of your arms tucked under. He loudly sighed, sitting back on the wooden board. Recognizable footfall thumping louder and closer before a wind up bard barged in the room without knocking or announcing his presence.

"You two!" Jaskier exclaimed, ceasing midway in the middle of the room; looking lost and piqued. His pretty face morphed into a tight frown to find you and Geralt utterly rumpled under the sheets. You tossed a look over your shoulder to see the bard straight up crashing inside like there has been no lock or whatsoever.

Geralt motioned with his hands, palms on either side to show how taken aback he was from his friend who came trudging in like he owned the place. His face hinting with displeasure. Wordlessly gesturing towards the bard with a 'What the fuck?' face.

You skeptically hushed whispers beside the witcher, timidly pulling the covers over your wild head, looking stunned as you exclaimed, "I thought you locked the room? I told you to lock it!---What if it was Cirilla?!---Don't you know what a lock is, Geralt?!"

Despite of your panicking and embarrassed state, he was entirely the opposite as he sounded lackadaisical, going on by glaring at the bard who has his face scrunched in utmost displeasure, "I didn't expect them to arrive home this early." the witcher rolled his eyes from his galled self and sent a scowl towards the bard.

Jaskier raised his brow in disbelief, "Early? We've been gone for 8 hours, Geralt!"

"Well, I thought you'll be gone for at least a day and not barge in our room after we had a 'moment', Bard. A knock would’ve suffice."

Another set of padded footsteps, this time it sounded like this person was merrily hopping through the hallway. Until a ball of Ashen hair peeked through the opened doorway with a short Hirikka standing in the middle of the threshold.

"I'm here---woah!" Cirilla seemed to be knocked out of her boots when she saw you emerging from under the covers, bashfully covering your chest with the sheets, looking mortified by everyone seeing you in that kind of state. You were glaring at the witcher who tossed your off the side for a while as he dealt with his scandalous and crazy family.

"---I knew it!" the princess of Cintra loudly clapped and jumped on her feet. Her excitement immediately dying down when she noticed that you both weren't actually clothed beneath the white blankets. She firmly crossed her arms, her nose scrunching in disgust, "---Also, gross! Please do lock the doors next time!"

She whistled at the flabbergasted Hirikka who was sniffing the whole room in bewilderment; stout stopping before the bard as he sniffed him loudly enough for Jaskier to wave his face off away from his face. Cirilla whistled another, catching the beast's attention and making Geralt wince due to his heightened hearing, "Kolby, let's go! I'm giving you a nice warm bath!" before she shut the door closed behind them when he'd run off towards the princess.

Geralt and Jasker were giving each other stern glares; seeming to be in a challenge where one shouldn't back down despite of how mean it appeared to be like.

Jaskier was the first to talk, beginning his interrogation, "Who ruined the dining table?"

You swallowed the butterflies wanting to fly out of your throat, lifting a shaky finger to point at the witcher who was still as he sat on his side of the bed, "I’m definitely not the person who has superpowers here---It's him," but, Geralt seemed to answer in the same time with you.

"No one."

Jaskier didn't seem to want and take everyone's bullshit as he crossed his arms in front of you both. Geralt's clothes on one hand and yours in the other that made a blush go straight up your whole face, burning the dignity that was left. You wanted to yell from how irresponsible you were for leaving your clothes all around the house when you promised yourself that it'll be fixed after your activity.

You didn't expect Geralt to take eight hours---or you did?----and actually forgot what was needed to remember.

"Oh, no one, Geralt? I suppose this shirt is also owned by no one, considering how unclad you are right now? Hmm. Would this tunic come from the Hirikka then?" the toubadour raised his hand where Geralt's black under tunic has been balled up.

Jaskier dramatically puffed out a sigh, sounding like it was the end of the world for what has welcomed them when they came back from their weekly visit for Cuthbert. He held forth about your sudden shenanigans around the house like a father delivering a tirade.

"We leave for eight hours and this is what you both welcomed us in," pause. "---A broken bloody table where we dine!" Another pause as he threw Geralt's clothes at his face in which he caught it perfectly, "---your clothes everywhere in the house like snakes who shed their skins anywhere they go!"

Lastly, his foot fidgeted on the wooden floors, tapping in anxiety as he remembered that tiny scratch he had seen on his beloved musical instrument, entirely galled from the wound it received like it was his baby.

"---and also my lute---my beloved lute falling on the floors! You've hurt her!"

"We didn't touch your lute," Geralt's response was tepid, lazily blinking back at the enraged bard who stood in the middle of the room.

Jaskier's raised his hands to his hips, raising a finger and opening his mouth, expression wild and ready to send another harangue before back paddling inside his train of thoughts.

He briefly shut his mouth, tilting his head to the side as he wondered out loud, "Oh, maybe the air pushed it to fall. I remembered how I left the windows opened too. However---!"

Geralt cut his verbal onslaught, his gaze narrowing at Jaskier who also didn't back down at sending a nasty lour at the entertained witcher.

"I'll fix whatever is needed to fix, bard. Stop your whining," you've felt the bed squeak and bounce. Geralt slipped his legs out of the sheets, feet plopping down the floors as he heavily sighed. It needed power; manpower for Jaskier to leave the room and Geralt knew he wouldn't leave until he pushes him out of the threshold.

The witcher stood tall and firm, completely au naturel from head to foot like how he have been when he was a baby, stark naked without being moved by the idea that Jaskier was in the same room as you. His bare ass never shaking him off and so does the bard.

"Leave. Out of my chambers, Jaskier."

Geralt sauntered to where he is. Your eyebrows raising in amusement as you've marveled over the witcher in the nude. His beautiful, rugged bare back on show with that A+ rating of his derriere in which you freely tried to memorize inside your head.

Though, you couldn't help but take a glimpse of Jaskier who seemed unfazed by this whole nakedness he was seeing; like he was familiar of the whole thing and the white wolf's dangly bits hanging and it has peaked your curiosity.

Do they bathe together then?

The bard has seen your amused smile with a skeptical brow raised to what you were witnessing. Thus, he peeked around Geralt to acknowledge your curiosity; pointing at you with a roguish grin, "That face tells that you have been swimming deep inside the vast depths of the sea, wondering why I am not bothered by the witcher's nudity---"

"Jaskier," Geralt sent a tired warning and held his slim shoulders, forcefully turning him around as he pushed him forward, towards the door.

"---It's because I have rubbed chamomile onto his lovely bottom before! It was true! I never lied! It was a part of the rules in becoming the rightful travel companion until you came along and began rubbing it for himself! Though, I doubt you did it to join our adventures!---"

You couldn't help but stifle your tee-hee from his admission. Finding their friendship amazing to the point that he does it for Geralt; receiving nothing but his altruism and adventures that the witcher has shared together with him.

Geralt loudly closed the door behind Jaskier; his mouth running on and on about how such a change of habits it has been when you came in their life. He'd knock a lot of times, calling out for the both of you and trying to want and barge in your moment but your white wolf finally knew what a lock is and slid the wooden block over the hook to lock his chambers.

"He seriously rubs chamomile on your butt?"

The skyclad man turned on his heel, raising a skeptical brow as you tried to focus hard on his face and not his body that stood before you.

"I guess that silence means yes, then. Oof, such bromance! Don't you think I'm the one who's actually becoming a hindrance between your platonic relationship with your bard?"

"Ridiculous." He took several steps closer, making you turn your head from becoming too flustered over his glorious, scarred body that he certainly isn't afraid or diffident about his imperfections anymore after you've treated them like it was a part of him that you will always accept. Geralt sat on your side, reaching over the bedside table to look beneath the drawers.

The latter placed a small, transparent bottle on your hand. A clear yellowish tone of liquid inside as you stared at it, thoroughly intrigued, "What's this? Is it another one of your witcher potions?"

Geralt hummed in negation, lifting his calloused hand to take your chin in between his fingers, turning your head to look at his ardent, shining amber, "Eucalyptus Oil. Took it from Cirilla's chambers. For you---For later. Perhaps, our recent activities had you feeling utterly spent,"

You've blinked, taken aback from his plans for whatever it is he wanted. Though, it didn't take you to put two on two together to know where his plans would take you, "Why are you---Oh. I know. I definitely know what you want." pause. "---you are insatiable, Geralt."

Geralt gently nudged your chin, tilting it up to his advantage as he leaned down to press a soft buss to your lips. Once again, he'd took your breath away by how tender he was handling you. The mere opposite of what people see and expected from because they never had the chance to walk through him; they didn’t have the courage to know who he really was.

His thumb that rested upon your chin were easily replaced with his lips, kissing you on the spot before gliding the dimples of his nose to yours, subtly giving you an Eskimo kiss.

"My overly developed lechery certainly comes from the mutation,"

Geralt's mouth lifted into a small, unusual beam, fluttering his eyes closed as he concentrated on you and that specific comfort he found. Questions came hitting him like stones, breaking the mirthful bubble that he was brought in.

He didn't want you to go home anymore because he'd found home in you.

But, what if fate had move mountains and threw his happiness away again? Leaving him no choice but to watch you go?

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means I can’t tag you, bb’s! 💖) @alyxkbrl​​ @himarisolace​​ @barkingbullfrog​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​​ @vania-marie​​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​ @nympeth​​ @amirahiddleston​​ @gabethelobster​​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​ @melaninstylezz​​ @psychosupernatural​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ @tapismyforte​​ @chook007​​ @covid-donotenter​​ @winter-moons​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @silverkitten547​​ @angelofthor​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum​, @stuckupstucky​, @shesthelastjedi​, @a--1--1--3​, @gutfucks​​,

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​

General taglist for Henry: @agniavateira​​, @iloveyouyen​​, @rahdaleigh​​,

[smiting-finger]

Previous HP AU parts: Here, here, here and here

“So, Requiem,” Wei Wuxian says as soon as the image on the surface of the bronze mirror ripples out into the uppermost three quarters of Nie Huaisang’s head.

(“My brother hung it in the office when he took over as Sect Leader,” Nie Huaisang explains during their first mirror-call after Wei Wuxian’s return. 

Wei Wuxian immediately drops the topic.

“Do the other Sect Leaders just … let it go?” he asks Lan Zhan later, and receives a small headshake in reply.

“He adds extra seat cushions to his chair during official meetings,” Lan Zhan says, his voice uncoloured by emotion, his gaze steady as he turns to meet Wei Wuxian’s. “But he says they’re difficult to balance on.”

Wei Wuxian drops the topic a second time.)

“The song that we learned at school for calming restless souls?” Nie Huaisang asks with three quarters of an appraising look, and then adds, “Those of us who weren’t tone-deaf, anyway.”

“That’s the one,” Wei Wuxian agrees, and if that’s a dig at the time he deliberately played out of tune and almost sent old Professor Lan beyond the veil to soothe the spirits of the dead in person, he stands by his choices.

(If it’s a reference to Wen Ning, then - well, the poor boy tried his best. You can’t be good at everything.)

“I was thinking,” he continues, leaning back in his chair. He waves his wand at the small pile of paper birds in front of him, which line up obediently along the desk edge and take turns to divebomb the makeshift target drawn on the back of his office door. 

“We use Requiem as a conduit to magically encourage emotional calm - so there’s no reason, in theory, that we couldn’t use music to do the opposite, is there?”

Nie Huaisang taps his fan against his chin a few times (or, at least, that’s what Wei Wuxian assumes is causing the soft patting sounds he hears, since his line of sight stops at Nie Huaisang’s upper lip), before asking:

“You want to ... compose a song that makes souls restless?”

“Not restless,” Wei Wuxian doesn’t need magic to do that, “I just want to … encourage them to feel certain things. Or have certain states of mind.”

He slings a dart at the door and sighs when it only barely makes it into the target’s outermost boundary.

“You mean,” Nie Huaisang begins slowly, “like that time with Professor Lan and your shitty flute playing in third year?”

“Well, yes,” Wuxian allows, because technically that is what happened, “but also no. I’m also thinking more through the actual music than the quality thereof. And ... I’m also possibly not looking to induce rage?”

His second dart lands closer to the centre, but not by much. A paper bird embedded into the next section over starts to shake its butt at him in a smug victory dance.

Rude.

“So instead,” Nie Huaisang prompts gently, “you’re looking to induce…?”

“...arousal?” Wei Wuxian offers hopefully.

There’s a moment of silence, which is eventually broken by the slide of Nie Huaisang’s fan as he flicks it open.

“Why?” he asks finally, doing a remarkable job of keeping the judgment out of his face.

“The pursuit of knowledge is a worthwhile goal in and of itself,” Wei Wuxian supplies in his loftiest impression of Lan Qiren’s lecture-voice.

Nie Huaisang simply looks at him.

“And maybe in this case, the knowledge might have some personal application, too,” Wei Wuxian admits, and is met with a second moment of silence.

“I truly don’t know if Lan Wangji deserves my condolences or congratulations,” Nie Huaisang says eventually, and shakes his head.

“Why not both?” Wei Wuxian shrugs.

-

“It comes down to a question of whether lust is fundamentally physical or spiritual, doesn’t it?” Lan Xichen muses between stirs. “Could you pass me the three-legged crow feathers, please? They’re in the box on the - no, the one next to - yes, that one, thank you.”

He takes the dish from Wei Wuxian, scatters the feathers evenly across the bubbling surface of whatever potion he’s brewing and immediately takes a step back, drawing Wei Wuxian along by the elbow. A second later, the feathers begin to spark, whizzing around in jerky figure-eights before finally sinking into the pale liquid with a soft hiss and a few wisps of white smoke.

“Now where were we?” Lan Xichen asks himself, picking up his wooden ladle to resume his gentle stirring. “Oh yes, that’s right. Requiem acts on the metaphysical component of the being - the mind and soul, if you will. We know that because of its effectiveness on ghosts, who possess no physical component at all. Therefore, it follows that if lust is purely - or, otherwise necessarily - physical, then Requiem will not be a useful basis for what you’re trying to achieve.”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, nodding slowly. “And that’s not even considering that the physical and mental components of lust might vary in comparative size from person to person...”

Lan Xichen hums in agreement and opens a box of yao grass, carefully selecting a sprig and then slipping off the small cord binding it together.

“We’ll just have to test it, then,” Wei Wuxian decides firmly.

To Lan Xichen’s credit, his hand, outstretched as it is over the mouth of the cauldron, only pauses for the briefest of moments before his fingers uncurl to allow the yao grass to fall in.

“I look forward to your findings,” he says serenely.

-

“Get out,” Lan Qiren says.

“But-” Wei Wuxian protests, because he has an entire speech prepared to explain why, as the Theory of Magic teacher, Lan Qiren should be absolutely be interested in this project.

“OUT,” Lan Qiren thunders.

Wei Wuxian gets.

-

“Can ghosts even … release?” Nie Huaisang wonders from his perch on the edge of the water, on one of his rare visit to the Gusu Academy. 

With both classes and Nie Huaisang’s official business finished for the day, the afternoon presents a perfect opportunity for Wei Wuxian to indulge in nostalgia for their schooling days. And so, as soon as lunch is over, he drags Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning out the door and into a romp all over the grounds to marvel at all the things that have changed, as well as all the things that haven’t.

Somehow they’ve ended up at the cold springs, the scene of many a student tryst (tragically, not a single one of them involving Wei Wuxian), and countless youthful fantasies.

None of which the three of them are calling to mind, sitting as they are with their pant legs rolled up to their knees so that they can soak their feet (or, in Wen Ning’s case, hold their feet above the water in a good approximation thereof) like the old men they are.

It’s not quite like the old days (the absence of a familiar, derisive snort; of the loud words that are almost sharp enough to hide the fondness thrumming beneath them like heartbeats under breastbone, is too pronounced for that), but in the miracle of After, it’s more than Wei Wuxian thought he’d be able to have.

(It’s enough.)

“Let’s say lust is metaphysical enough for your reverse-Requiem to work,” Nie Huaisang continues, “and then you play it for a spirit, and get them worked up. What do they ... do with that? Can ghosts-”

He makes an unmistakeable jerking gesture with his hand.

Wei Wuxian frowns. He hadn’t considered that.

And then, with an eerie synchronisation that Wei Wuxian can only attribute to the seven formative years they spent living in each other’s pockets, they turn as one to look at Wen Ning, who lets out an alarmed squeak.

“Does it matter?” Wei Wuxian asks, deciding to take pity on Wen Ning and refrain from pursuing that line of inquiry, 

“Well,” Nie Huaisang answers, turning to him with a significant wide-eyed glance, “think about it this way: if you were a resentful spirit, and someone played a song for you that made you build up all this lust that had nowhere to go … wouldn’t you become more resentful?”

Wen Ning squeaks again, his eyes like black saucers in his pale face.

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian says, pausing to consider this most excellent point.

“Actually, wait” Nie Huaisang says after a moment. “There’s at least one outlet that I’ve just thought of-”

“Possession,” Wei Wuxian supplies immediately.

“Right?” Nie Huaisang exclaims, waving his fan excitedly. “Can you imagine, a horny, possessed horde-”

“-charging around the countryside” Wei Wuxian continues, grinning with mixed horror and delight, “humping everything in its path-”

(They spend the next hour casting bubble-head charms on themselves and taking turns to swim to the bottom of the cold spring so that they can promise Wen Ning that no, they certainly won’t be asking him to help them test any of this, and they won’t be testing anywhere near him, either, Wei Wuxian will make sure that all testing happens far, far away, so can he please come back out now, the students would be sad if he stayed hiding inside the pool forever-)

-

“WHY ARE YOU SO EMBARRASSING?” Jin Ling yells, not letting the fact that he’s currently upside-down and hanging from the ceiling get in the way of his outrage.

“Students who break into my office to poke around my things have no right to complain about what they find,” Wei Wuxian replies calmly, leaning back in his chair so that he can look up at the two bodies suspended in mid-air and wriggling fruitlessly against the confines of their bindings. 

“IT WAS A DARE,” Jin Ling shouts defensively, starting to swing back and forth from the force of his own righteousness.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of that if I were you,” Lan Jingyi mutters under his breath.

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian inquires politely, leaning forward so that he can rest his elbows on his desk and pointedly steeple his fingers at his miscreant students. 

“A dare to look through my notes?”

“No,” Jin Ling shoots back hotly, before subsiding into a muttered, “I just looked at those because they were there. AND,” he resumes, remembering his earlier indignation, “when I did,” it turned out to be all - all -”

What the boys have managed to find are actually all Wei Wuxian’s half-sketched plans of ways to surpass (or just match, Wei Wuxian would be more than happy with even approximately matching) Lan Zhan’s patently unmatchable love confession. 

(Ten years of waiting and the first thing out of his mouth when he sees Wei Wuxian’s face again is “Wei Ying, I love you.”

What was the first thing that came out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth after seeing Lan Zhan’s face again?

“Ho ho ho, you think your puny barrier charm is gonna make me sleep in this box when I could be sleeping in your bed? Well think again!”

It really doesn’t compare.)

So far, each one has ended in a frustrated jumble of scribbled-out lines and some variation on WHAT WAS I THINKING? THIS DOESN’T EVEN COME CLOSE, but he’ll get there eventually.

“-all-” Jin Ling continues to splutter, “plans to - to have your way with Professor Lan!”

Wei Wuxian hums in agreement. What a charmingly missish turn of phrase - Jiang Cheng’s fingerprints are all over the boy’s upbringing.

“Everyone’s always talking about all the things you invented during the War,” Jin Ling continues to rage, unaware that his intended audience is only half-listening, “talking about how you were the best mind of your generation - The best mind, and THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE WASTING IT ON?”

“Can you stop?” Lan Jingyi hisses. “If you make him angry, he’ll never let us go!”

He jerks his hip in a clear attempt to nudge his fellow prisoner. Unfortunately for him, he uses too much force and overshoots the mark, excess momentum instead sending them both spiralling around each other as the charmed ropes holding them up begin to rapidly intertwine.

“What else would I use it on?” Wei Wuxian asks, watching with badly-concealed amusement as the boys’ efforts to stop spinning only make them spin faster. “I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t think of anything more important than getting into Lan Zhan’s-”

“SHAMELESS!” Jin Ling howls as he and Lan Jingyi begin to spin in the opposite direction.

“STOP YELLING!” Lan Jingyi yells.

“You wouldn’t have seen it, because I haven’t written it down yet,” Wei Wuxian continues mercilessly over the top of the resultant shouting match. “But if the song doesn’t work, there’s this part-human creature in Europe that does an apparently irresistible seduction dance. It shouldn’t take me too long to learn it-”

Jin Ling’s answering bellow of rage, Wei Wuxian notes fondly, is almost an exact copy of Jiang Cheng’s.

-

“So what’s this actually about?” Nie Huaisang asks during their next mirror-call, after Wei Wuxian plays another three notes that create a curl of something in his belly that could maybe be mild interest (or could maybe be just gas).

“What do you mean, ‘actually’?” Wei Wuxian asks reflexively, picking up his brush and carefully crossing yet another failed stanza off his list. “It’s about what it’s about - expanding my foreplay repertoire so that Lan Zhan doesn’t get bored and leave me for Mianmian.”

“You said it wasn’t about inciting rage,” Nie Huaisang continues thoughtfully, completely ignoring him. “So what else would you need to draw out of people?”

He tilts his face up towards the ceiling and purses his lips.

“It wouldn’t be happiness - we’ve already got charms for that - sadness? But why would you-”

Nie Huaisang freezes, and then slowly, carefully, brings his eyes back down to meet Wei Wuxian’s.

Theirs is a generation that grew up in war. Who among them doesn’t have unresolved grief? Who doesn’t have emotions they’ve repressed (trauma, resentment, guilt) - at first because there wasn’t the time or energy between the fighting and the surviving to properly work through them, and then afterwards because it just seemed easier to move on and try to forget?

(How many ghosts are unable to move on because they cannot resolve worldly attachments that they’re too afraid to remember?)

Nie Huaisang clears his throat.

“Why don’t you play me that last one again?” he suggests lightly. “I think you inverted one of the chords wrong. After we fix that, maybe it’ll work better.”

-

“Oh good, you’re back,” Wei Wuxian says when he steps into the Jingshi to find Lan Zhan already waiting. “Shall we-”

“Am I not passionate enough for you?” Lan Zhan cuts in, apropos of nothing. His voice is mild, but there’s a glint in his eyes that puts Wei Wuxian on immediate alert.

(And Little Wei Wuxian on immediate alert too, but that’s basically a given when Lan Zhan is involved.)

“...no? What makes you think that?” Wei Wuxian asks carefully, and Lan Zhan mutely lifts up a very familiar, half-finished composition.

Ah.

“I can explain,” Wei Wuxian offers quickly, holding his arms out between them and automatically stepping backwards in response to Lan Zhan’s very forceful (and very long!) step forwards.

“I have very valid reasons,” he adds, continuing to scramble back as Lan Zhan continues to advance, until he finds himself pinned between a rock and Lan Zhan’s hard, manly chest, “none of which are in any way a challenge to the strength of your ardour-”

He has just enough time for a half-laugh, half-yelp as he’s picked up and thrown onto the bed, and then all further protests are put on hold while Lan Zhan proves, aggressively and comprehensively, that he’s more than passionate enough.

-

With Lan Zhan’s musical expertise involved, the deconstruction of Requiem into its core magical components goes a lot more smoothly, and much more quickly.

The “testing” of Wei Wuxian’s derivative composition also becomes a lot more fun, if a lot less reliable in terms of producing valid results.

In the end, Wei Wuxian is only a little disappointed that they don’t manage to get an aphrodisiac song out of it.*

-

In the second year after his return, Yiling Patriarch Wei Wuxian developed the song Release, which has since been adapted for a wide range of therapeutic applications, including use in treatments for anxiety, depression, stress and trauma. 

With assistance from noted symphonimagus Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian deconstructed the then-established Requiem and, by applying its foundational magical principles in reverse, was able to create a song that, when played, encouraged the controlled expression of emotion under the player’s guidance. 

Unfortunately, his notes and experimental logs have since been lost.

-excerpt from the Annals of the Cloud Recesses

-

*

“LAN ZHAN, LOOK!” Wei Wuxian shrieks, running down the side of the hill towards him, waving a handful of leaves and flowers, “APHRODISIAC GRASS!”

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: epilogue (OC)

Summary: An early morning, a doctor’s appointment, a new beginning.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: pregnancy (including like… probably incorrect math and science but my degree was in English and this is fanfiction okay)

Word count: 2.7k

a/n: I’m actually so emotional don’t look at me thanks ♥️

Series Masterlist

———

The sound of Spencer’s ringtone pierced through the early morning quiet, shrill and disconsolate. Maggie hummed against his chest, shifting as he clumsily reached across to the bedside table to answer it. 

“Hey,” he croaked, voice still smothered in sleep. “Mm... When?” He paused, and she could almost make out the answer on the other end. “Got it. Yeah.” 

He carefully set the phone back on the bedside table, and then his arms came around her shoulders. He let out a long sigh, the one she’d gotten quite used to over the last year and a half— the one that meant he had to go. She squeezed him around the middle and let out her own sigh. “Case?”

“Yeah.” He ran light fingers down her arm. “Jet’s taking off in ninety minutes.”

She glanced at the bedside table to the alarm clock that read 4:57am. They both knew he needed to leave within the next half hour if he was going to make it on time, but neither one made any effort to move. Instead, they breathed together in the pre-dawn stillness— a single moment of peace before the world and all its ugliness could crash through the fortress they’d constructed around their space and around each other.

“I don’t wanna go,” he whispered. 

“I know.” She pressed a kiss over his heart through his t-shirt. “I know.”

“I’m gonna miss everything,” he lamented. “Appointments, and milestones, and firsts, and I— I’m gonna miss all of it.”

She lifted her head at the tears in his voice. “Hey.” She shifted in the circle of his arms to prop herself up on his chest. “You’re not gonna miss all of it. You’ll miss this one appointment. And it’s— it’s not even an important one,” she assured, gentle fingers swiping away the lone tear that had managed to escape over his lash line. 

“Yes, it is.” He shook his head. “They're all important.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile, leaning forward to press a quick peck to his lips before sitting up and deciding to reassure him in the only way she knew how. “Okay, doctor. Eleven weeks. Tell me what we’re gonna find out today.” 

She pulled him up out of bed, interlacing their fingers and pressing their shoulders together. As she led him to the bathroom, he explained, “Dr. Layton will do the first ultrasound, and Baby will look more like a baby now. At around ten weeks they made the transition from embryo to fetus. They’ll be about two inches long.” 

She handed him his toothbrush and turned to grab his toiletry go-back from the linen closet, stifling a yawn. “Mmhm. What else?”

“Did you know they’re breathing now?” he asked, and she smiled at the way the excitement crept into his voice. “Between weeks ten and eleven, the fetus starts to inhale and exhale small amounts of amniotic fluid, which aids in the development of their lungs. It’s kind of like they’re breathing underwater.” 

“I didn’t know that,” she admitted, turning back to set the bag on the counter. “That’s pretty amazing. What about the heartbeat?”

He nodded vigorously as he applied toothpaste to the bristles of his brush. “We should be able to hear it, although sometimes it’s too early— depending on the accuracy of the estimated date of conception.”

He ran the water over the toothbrush before popping it into his mouth. She kissed his shoulder and then moved back into the bedroom, shuffling into their closet for his go bag. She checked it over on her way back to the bathroom, ensuring it had been fully repacked after the last case. She set it on the counter and placed his toiletry bag inside, leaving it open for him to pack his toothbrush and then sitting on the closed toilet lid. 

He rinsed his mouth and put his travel cap over the head of his toothbrush, gesturing with it and then dropping it into the bag. “They’ll do some routine lab work to test for things like gestational diabetes, and we can also choose to do additional screeners for chromosomal abnormalities and possible complications.” He looked at her then, and she saw the despondence creeping back in. “I should really be there, just— just in case.”

“Honey.” She stood and held out her hand to him, smiling a little when he accepted it with a squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

He let out a breath and pulled her into his arms, and they held each other in the silence, the soft light from the vanity washing over them. His phone buzzed with an incoming message, and she knew he needed to get on the road. Still, she held him for a second longer, and then they shuffled through the door and into the bedroom together. 

Maggie made her way back to bed, scooting down under the duvet to preserve the last remaining notes of his body warmth. She watched as he dressed silently, pulling on trousers, socks, a button up and cardigan. He skipped the tie in favor of coming to sit on the bed, bringing his hand to rest lightly over top of her belly over the covers. 

She covered his hand with her own and laced their fingers together. “Maybe you could ask Luke if you can FaceTime with his phone. You can probably take twenty minutes, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He rubbed a tired hand over his face. “Maybe I should just upgrade my own phone.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I see how it is. Couldn’t upgrade for me, but once a baby comes along you’re ready for an iPhone.” 

“That’s not— you— you shouldn’t have to do all of this alone,” he huffed, and she realized her joke didn’t land when his voice cracked at the end. 

“Spence, I’m— I’m just teasing.” She lifted her hands to his face, pulling him closer and meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry; you’re upset, and that wasn’t nice.” 

She leaned up to kiss his forehead, letting her lips linger and breathing him in. “But I’m not alone. With you, I feel— the opposite of alone.”

“Irritated?” he offered. 

“No,” she laughed. “Supported, and cared for, and loved,” she corrected with a smile. “You’ve been all of that since day one. And I know that’s not going to change, whether you’re physically present in that doctor's office or not. Right?” 

When he nodded, she continued, “I love you. The most. And you are easily the best baby daddy on planet earth. Okay?”

The term of endearment dragged a smile from him, as it always did. “Okay.”

She leaned forward to press her lips to his, both sets upturned and a little dry from sleep. “Now, you need to go, or you’re gonna be late.”

“I know.” He kissed her again, long and slow, and then pulled back to lean their foreheads together. He hesitated for another ten seconds before standing to grab his bag from the bathroom. 

When he re-emerged, she reminded him, “Ask Luke about the FaceTime thing. I’m sure he won’t mind, and we can trust him to keep the secret. The appointment technically starts at 1:00, but I probably won’t be seen until at least 1:30.”

He crossed to give her another kiss. “I love you.” He crouched to press a kiss to her tummy. “And you.”

“We love you, too,” she smiled, fingers tangling in his curls. “And we’ll talk to you in a few hours.”

She kissed him one more time— couldn’t help herself. And then his warmth was gone from the bed, and the house was suddenly much too quiet. She snuggled back down under the duvet, her head on his pillow and the scent of his shampoo shrouding her senses and easing her mind.

Spencer really was supportive— endlessly so. Not overbearing, but interested and involved in every moment: reading all the newest research, bringing home her favorite treats, writing out a color-coded timeline of all the appointments and milestones. She wasn’t lying when she called him the best baby daddy. He was always there for her. So much so that the apprehension she’d had at the beginning of this surprise journey was nowhere to be found. 

As she drifted back into sleep, there he was again— she could almost hear the jangling of his keys in the bowl in the entryway, his feet on the stairs, the rustling of his pants and sweater being discarded onto the floor of their bedroom. 

And then she felt the warmth of his palm low over her tummy, coming to rest over the barely-there bump. She felt his lips on her shoulder and his chest pressed against her back. When she went to cover his hand with her own, her exhausted brain registered that it wasn’t a dream at all.

She turned her head, blinking her eyes open to see him smiling at her and drew her brows together. “What’s going on?”

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder, snuggling even closer and rubbing his thumb along her belly. “I’m, um— I told Emily I’m gonna consult from home on this one.”

…

“Okay, Mom, this’ll just be a little bit cold.”

Dr. Layton smoothed the gel over Maggie’s lower abdomen, and Spencer moved to thread their fingers together, shifting to stand even closer to the examination table. The ultrasound machine gave off a low hum as the doctor adjusted the wand over her tummy. She felt Spencer press a kiss to her temple and turned to smile brightly at him before turning back to the black and white screen. 

At her first appointment five weeks ago, she’d been by herself— alone and uncertain and terrified— and she’d declined the option of the ultrasound. It felt wrong to see the baby before Spencer even knew about them. Now, together with him, with her soon-to-be husband— she was more than ready to see their baby for the first time. And she could practically feel Spencer’s excitement next to her, his body nearly vibrating with it. 

“Ah, here they are. Hello, Baby Reid.” Dr. Layton pointed to a small, white figure on the screen. “Okay, right here, you can see their big ol’ head— perfectly normal size for this stage of development,” she assured, eyes deftly scanning the image in front of her. “Everything looks great! Now, I’m just trying to find…” 

She adjusted the wand over Maggie’s tummy, and suddenly a wub wub wub came over the tinny speaker of the machine. “There we are,” Dr. Layton smiled. “Very strong heartbeat.”

Spencer squeezed Maggie’s hand, and she felt the drop of a tear on her shoulder. She brought her other hand over to cover their tangled fingers, rubbing her thumb along the skin of his wrist and kissing his arm. 

Dr. Layton made a slightly perplexed humming sound, moving the wand again and losing the sound of the heartbeat, only to pick it up again— this time slightly faster. Maggie’s own heart stuttered a little as the doctor moved the wand again twice more and then cleared her throat. “Is something— is everything okay?”

She turned to Maggie with a kind smile. “Yes, yes,” she confirmed, and then she raised her eyebrows. “Just— do you hear the difference?” 

Spencer tilted his head in consideration, drawing his brows together and straining to hear. The doctor shifted the wand once more, allowing them to hear the two distinct patterns. 

Two distinct patterns, Maggie realized. 

Dr. Layton pressed the wand a little more firmly into her abdomen, moved it just slightly. “Those are two different heartbeats.” She pointed to the screen. “And those are two different babies. There’s a matching set of Baby Reids in there.”

Maggie couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. “Is there—” She turned to Spencer incredulously. “Do twins run in your family?”

He shook his head silently, eyes wide. “Yours?”

“Nope,” she squeaked. 

“This obviously changes things slightly,” Dr. Layton explained, cleaning up the residual gel. “I’d like to see you every three weeks rather than every four. Then at twenty eight weeks, we’ll see how we feel, okay?” 

She smiled gently as Maggie and Spencer nodded dumbly. She removed her gloves and stood. “I’m going to give you two a few minutes. I’ll be back with your photos in a bit, and we can talk about any questions you might have.”

The door closed behind her, and the room was bathed in silence. Maggie sat up carefully and swung her legs over the side of the examination table. She looked down at her tiny, unassuming bump and felt a tear slip over her lashes. 

“Are you— are you okay?” Spencer whispered. 

She brought her gaze to his, found them teeming with barely restrained joy and yet the ever-present worry. “Well,” she started. “I, um— I always imagined two kids.” She brought her hands up to her sweaty cheeks and held her own face between her palms. “I guess this is— you know— just a quicker way to get there.”

Spencer immediately wrapped her in a hug, pressing kisses over her hair, her forehead, her shocked mouth. “Two babies. We’re having two babies.”

“Twins, Spence,” she breathed. “Twins.”

He replaced her hands with his own, cradling her face and kissing her sweetly, sighing all of his joy and adoration into her mouth. “I love you. So much. The most.” He lowered himself to press his lips to her belly. “All of you.”

She used gentle hands in his hair to tilt his face up, meeting his smile with a watery one of her own. “We love you, too, baby daddy.”

She could see the gears turning as he stood, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “About that.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Do you, um— how difficult do you think it would be to get everyone together this weekend?”

She paused. “You wanna get married this weekend?”

“Yeah, that’s probably too soon, huh?” He huffed out a sigh, then his eyebrows shot up. “Oh— what about next weekend?”

“That’s just as soon!” she laughed. 

He furrowed his brow. “No, it’s not. There's a seven day difference.”

“You’re really in a rush, huh?” she teased. 

“Well. I just— I figure you should really be on my insurance anyway,” he reasoned. “Especially now that it’s— now that it’s twins.”

“Mm, yes, I’m sure that’s the reason,” she grinned.

He let out a long breath, and she watched his eyes journey over her face— memorizing every curve and angle, every new wrinkle, every last inch of her. And she knew the reason. 

“I know it’s just a piece of paper,” he murmured. “It doesn’t really change anything, but…” He used gentle fingers to brush her hair back from her face. “I just… really want to be your husband.”

She took her own minute to memorize the way he looked in this moment: her fiancé, the father of her children, the best man she’d ever known, the absolute love of her life. And she knew her own reason. 

“The paper might not change anything,” she agreed. “But— you’ve changed everything.”

He squeezed her hips. “In a good way I hope.”

“The best way.” She brought her hands to his face, rubbing her thumbs along his cheeks. “The best way.”

He closed the distance between them to kiss her with all the honey and magic and reverence he always did. He broke away to lean his forehead against hers with all the warmth and devotion and love he always did. She sighed, and it was all joy and vulnerability and contentment like it always was. And she knew their reasons. 

She kissed him again, and then murmured against his lips, “You know I’m still gonna refer to you as baby daddy, right?”

The laugh erupted from his chest and wrapped itself around her heart, tying tight and secure— a shield, and a haven, and a refuge— keeping her safe from every terrible thing. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

…

O no! Love is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; 

It is the star to every wandering bark, 

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

———

Permanent tags: @spacedikut @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @rexorangecouny @rainsong01  @blameitonthenight21 @moviequeen51 @90spumkin @reniescarlett @ncsls0515 @sturmmhond @takeyourleap-of-faith @saspencereid @calm-and-doctor @reidtheprettyboy @atabigail @ayo-cowbelly @muffin-cup @ssa-natalya-reid @wheelsup @reidingmelodies @this-is-gublerween  @spenxerslut  @reidemandweep @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @luwheezey @joalsglasses @je-suis-prest-rachel @enbyfaerie @spencie-adams @honestimanormalfan @blurryreid  @elldell1204 @babyhoneystvles @lost-in-the-stars03 @reiding-recs @minervaonmars @radtwinkie @crimeshowtrash @dayho3​ @reiding-rainbow​ @archer561​ @maddievevo​

Permanent (sfw) tags: @mrs-dr-reid @eevee0722 @goldentournesol @froggybagels

Series (x OC) tags: @linnyalou @mikewizkalifa

[concubuck]

Dinner Date (and Dessert) - chat log 8/28

Alastor a.k.a. Buck (hi there) has a date night with Alastor a.k.a. King (@akillingspreeinwhite).

It turns out that when you hook up a concubus with the ruler of hell, what you get is the sexual equivalent of a perpetual motion machine. They simply do not run out of stamina. Truly horrifying to behold.

King

👑  Good evening, my dear! Would you happen to have tomorrow night free for that promised dinner?

Buck

Completely free! Shall I pencil you in? I hope if I give you an address you can find your way to the right universe?

King

👑  Yes, of course! It's a simple thing for me. Shall I arrive around say 7 o'clock?

Buck

7 o'clock is perfect! I'll arrange a room. I hope you don't mind a hotel room; I'm afraid I don't have a dining space that's fit for a guest.

King

👑  That works just fine for me, dear! Send me the room number when you have it.

Buck

I'll see you soon, your majesty~

King

👑  Indeed you shall!

Buck

He got a room in a hotel he’d frequented several times before, one of those stainless-steel-and-glass-and-exposed-brick places that thought “industrial” and “high-end” belonged in the same sentence as each other. Usually he visited it for the jacuzzi and the floor-to-ceiling windows—but for this trip, it had a well-stocked kitchenette, too.

And he could hardly focus on cooking. He kept catching himself with one hand on the spatula and the other trying to sneak under his apron. Just a few hours, and he’d be meeting *himself* face-to-face, for the first time—be stared at by his own eyes, heard by his own ears, close enough to touch, to claw, to bite—

But dinner first. Technically, neither of them had promised more than dinner yet. He was at least going to get that right.

And by 7 o’clock, distractions aside, he’d managed to finish dinner, clean up, set up the radio in the kitchen, and find a spot to perch by the door while he anxiously awaited his date.

King

The radio crackled to life, playing a quick instrumental tune, and a portal sprang open-- and through stepped King. His lips stretched in a grin, he dusted off the lapels of his white and red tuxedo.

"Good evening! Buck, I presume?" He asked, eyes glinting as he moved closer. His antlers, large as they were, knocked a bit against the ceiling and he laughed.

"Oh, pardon me! Let's adjust the antennae, shall we?" His antlers shrank down to a more manageable size-- still large, but far less tall.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear!" He inclined his head.

Buck

He started at the sound—never in his life had somebody else wrested control of a radio away from him. He only had long enough to think *well, of course,* before the portal opened to admit his alternate.

And there he *was,* in all his glory. It was his own face, his own smile, even his own skin as it used to look before he gave up his humanity—and it was all aimed at him. He was very glad he'd added some tight underwear to the harness underneath his clothing, lest it be a little *too* obvious just how thrilling it was to meet himself.

Other than that, though, next to the king's tuxedo, he felt painfully underdressed. Just a black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and slim pants—the compromise his sense of shame had reached with his eagerness. He wished his shame had won a little more ground.

"Ah—*yes.* The one and only—so to speak." He laughed somewhat breathlessly, heart hammering in his chest. Collect yourself, idiot. "I should downsize too. There's probably a rule against having a hat bigger than the king's, isn't there?" And anyway, the large antlered heart looming over his head felt a little *too* obvious. It was only with difficulty that he managed to reign the majority of it in.

"The pleasure's all mine, sire—do you prefer 'sire'? Tell me how formal I should be, I'm new to cross-universe etiquette."

King

"Just King will do, my dear-- or if you'd rather a pet name, that's fine by me, as well. No need to stand on formality when it's just us two, hm?" He winked, and held his hand forward-- an offer for Buck to place his own and perhaps receive a kiss to his knuckles.

"The pleasure is mine, of course, to be your guest this night."

Buck

Buck's grin stretched wider. "We'll have to see what pet name seems fitting, won't we?" He winked back.

Hands! Damn, he should have worn gloves—he was *very* glad he hadn't worn gloves—he immediately placed his hand in King's. "It's not every day I entertain royalty. I hope I can offer you a meal fit for a king." Is he talking about dinner or is that a euphemism? (It's both.)

King

King placed a soft, warm kiss on Buck's knuckles, his thumb rubbing over them after. He didn't release the other's hand, instead drawing him up.

"Well then, no point in dallying about, let's eat, shall we? I'm positively _starved_."

Buck

Just ignore the fact that at the kiss a good 20% of the antler mass he'd just whisked away was now back—aaand there went another 30%.

"You and me both! *Utterly ravenous*." That would be a perfect opportunity to go for King's mouth; but instead he restrained himself to pressing his thigh to King's as he tipped his head toward a dining table past the kitchenette. (He'd opted for stupidly decadent—filet mignon and lobster.) "It took all my willpower not to start without you."

King

"Oh, look at that! Simply scrumptious!" King cooed, eyes on the meal set on the table-- though they flickered to Buck with a flash of a wry smirk.

King released Buck's hand to sweep behind the other's chair, pulling it out for him like a proper gentleman.

"I'm sure! It must've took an immense amount of will to get through that ordeal!" He chuckled.

Buck

Odd how the room felt a little bit dimmer when King was looking away from Buck.

"You have no idea." As he took his seat, he broke eye contact with King for the first time since he'd entered the room—but turned to catch his gaze again as soon as he could. "I had to make a special surface trip just for the lobster. It will be well worth it."

King

King pushed the seat back into place, before taking his own with another sweeping, elegant movement. He smiled at Buck, gently and genially taking his knife and fork in hand.

"It certainly will, I haven't had lobster in days," He said, smirking as he cut a nice bite of steak. He let out a low moan when the meat hit his tongue.

"Mm, simply divine."

Buck

*Days,* he says. It was a good thing Buck had gone for decadent, imagine if he'd dared to stop short.

"Oh, that *is* good. Not to pat my own back, but!" He laughed. "*Next* time, you ought to tell me what you'd like to taste. I'll see what I can do."

King

"My tastes can be quite varied and wild, I'll have you know." He laughed, taking a bite of the lobster. "I'm sure whatever you dish up would be well to my liking."

He winked again.

Buck

At this point it was like he'd never tried to retract his antlers at all. "Good, then we're well-matched! We'll have to *experiment* sometime."

(Did he have control over the hotel radio again? Time to turn some background music on. Not having music was weird.)

King

"That sounds simply wonderful, I whole-heartedly agree! We certainly should-- but since this is our first....dinner, then perhaps sticking to the basics for now." He took another bite.

Buck

"Oh, absolutely. One must master the basics before trying the more exotic recipes, mustn't one? But I'm sure you'll find tonight's *entire* menu equally enjoyable."

King

"I'm sure that I shall." He chuckled again, eating more of the steak and lobster. "Might I inquire plainly what you expect for the night? Just so we may be clear."

Buck

A blink. Okay, straightforward it was, then. Made things easier—even if it did make his face hotter. "Plainly, I'd appreciate at least one orgasm by the end of the night, and I'm *extremely* flexible on the specifics of how we get there. I don't like blindfolds, gags are hit or miss, and I prefer the lights on."

King

King smiled widely as he took another bite. "I guarantee more than one tonight. And it would be a shame for either of us to not see one another during. I never much like blindfolds either. Do you have a safe word? I know we're not going to do anything too wild tonight, but just for reference. Mine is Defeat."

Buck

"*Well!* I'll do my best to return the favor in kind." Don't mind him if he just. Stretches his legs. And maybe brushes an ankle against King's. "'Defeat' is fine, I tend to go with whatever my partner's using. Either that or just 'stop.' I doubt we'll get up to anything tonight that would make that ambiguous." He also doubted he'd want to say it.

King

King returned the touch to his ankle with one back, smirking as he took another bite. And lo and behold, his plate was empty. He _was_ rather large, a normal portion was small to him.

"Looks like I'm finished," He said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and grinning. "Are you?"

Buck

"Nearly!" He devoured the last few bites viciously—he hadn't been kidding about being ravenous. And to hell with etiquette, he was more eager to move on to dessert than to keep eating at a mannerly pace.

King

Once Buck was finished scarfing down the last bits of food, King rose and moved to pull his chair back out, and once more offered his hand to the other. Always the gentleman, it seemed.

"Shall be adjourn to the bed, then?" He purred.

Buck

Buck took King's hand—and his elbow. That's his now. Now that dinner wasn't distracting them, his eyes were once again firmly glued to King's face. "*Let's.*" He tipped his head toward the bedroom door.

King

King grinned wider, leading the way into the bedroom. With a light kick, he shut the door behind them, his free hand covering Buck's hand.

"I do want you to know that at first, I really did think you were only offering me dinner and nothing more, when you initially offered."

Buck

"I was afraid you might think that!" He laughed and pressed closer to King's side, his long tail loosely wrapping around King's leg. "I thought I'd have to be *extra* suggestive at the dinner table. But you worked it out before you got here."

(The radio's teleported itself into the bedroom. Don't worry about it.)

King

"That I did, and I was more than happy to oblige." King sat on the bed, tugging Buck into his lap. His hand cupped Buck's cheek, his gloved thumb playing with his bottom lip.

"Why don't you help me undress?" He cooed.

Buck

He gladly let himself be tugged down, straddling King's lap. Guess who's rock hard? (Spoilers: it's the same guy who's been rock hard this whole time.) "What an *honor.*" He slid his hands eagerly over King, briefly feeling his chest before getting to work undoing buttons. He let King play with his lip a moment, nibbling at the tip of his thumb, then tugged at King's glove with his teeth.

King

"Try the middle finger, it works better for that," he said, placing said digit's tip on the other's lips. His other hand reached to flick a button open on Buck's shirt, and he peeked beneath with a soft groan.

"You're wearing the harness....good," He purred.

Buck

"I'll try whatever you offer me." He kissed King's fingertip before tugging again on the glove, this time with more success.

His grin widened, impish around the glove still dangling from between his teeth. "I *thought* you might like that. It seemed like your colors." It felt like the exposed skin of his chest was blazing beneath King's gaze. If he hadn't already been neon red, he would be now.

King

"Seeing the back of it got me ever so curious about what the front looked like." He grinned, taking the glove with his now bare hand to toss aside. He swapped his hands, placing the tip of his other middle finger into those jaws-- and the warmth of his skin pressed against Buck's as his hand made contact with his chest.

"They are-- white and gold on red. Quite a lovely combination, no?"

Buck

"Mm-*hmm.*" He was already so revved up that just the touch to his chest was enough to make his eyelids flutter. He sucked on King's finger for a moment before dispatching the glove the same way as the first.

"So, what do you think?" He undid another button, exposing a bit more skin and harness. "Is the front as pretty as the back?"

King

"So far, yes. But I'll reserve full judgement for when I get to see it all." He chuckled, and his head tilted as he finally leaned in to kiss Buck. He nipped at the other's lower lip, the hand not on Buck's chest wrapping around the back of his head.

Buck

Oh, those *fangs.* His fangs. Was this what other people felt, kissing Buck? (Probably not—he suspected King had a hell of a lot more than three years' experience.) He kissed back, teeth teasing at King's lips, offering his tongue to be nipped at as well.

King

King delighted in the sensation of flesh between his teeth, of teasing it and playing with it, pricking it gently with those sharp tips. He accepted the tongue, so very gently scraping his teeth across it, as then his tongue joined the dance as well.

Buck

Buck hummed into the kiss—but there was only so long he could handle kissing before the lack of eye contact got to him. He rolled his hips against King's, pressing their groins together, and reached under King's coat to untuck his shirt—a reminder of what else they had on their plate.

King

King gave a small gasp at the roll of hips, and his hands moved to do away with the buttons on his vest. The shirt buttons followed, though there was still his undershirt to contend with.

King shrugged out of the jacket, and began to undo his bowtie. "I fear I wore far too many layers for these activities, didn't I?" He laughed breathlessly.

Buck

Buck smirked wryly. "And here I'd worried I'd underdressed." He helped King to undress where he could, and when he couldn't help, continued unbuttoning his own clothing. "But if you're *desperate,* we only really need you pants down, don't we?"

King

"I'd rather have it all off, this is bespoke after all." He winked and laughed.

Saying that, he tossed his jacket, shirt, and vest onto the floor. Seemed he didn't truly care about his suit all that much.

Buck

"Oh, then by all means! I'd hate for them to get dirty. I don't mind for my *own* clothes, but..." He tugged King's undershirt up over his chest, then paused, eyeing King's antlers. Nope, undershirt wasn't going over those unless King magicked it.

King

"Ah, yes, let me take care of that--" With a slight flourish, he simply yanked on the undershirt-- and it came away cleanly and in one piece.

"Ta-da~" He said, with a smarmy look on his face. He pushed Buck's shirt off completely, hooking fingers into the harness. "So pretty for me."

Buck

A laugh and a disembodied round of applause for King's magic trick. "Handy!"

He arched his back for King, leaning back with his hands on King's knees, showing off how the harness fit him and tugging back against King's fingers, drinking in the attention. "And all for your pleasure."

King

"Mm, what a lovely thing. All for me, how lucky I am." He grinned, one finger staying hooked in, while the other let go to gently drag his claws against skin.

With quick flicks of his feet, he removed his shoes, the socks just disappearing to and reappearing on the piled of clothes. "I think we're finally almost undressed," He said, laughing.

Buck

"*Nearly.*" He sat up and hooked his thumbs into King's waistband pointedly. "Should I... keep the harness on?" As if he didn't know.

King

"Yes, it's quite lovely. And it makes it far easier to manhandle you." He laughed. "Plus, I want to see how your equipment looks all caught up in it."

Buck

“Oh, *would* you!” He got up on his knees, took King’s hands, and guided them up to his own waist band. (… With maybe a quick detour over his ass.) “It’s quite a sight, if I say so myself! Perhaps you’d like to do the honors?”

King

"I would indeed like that very much!" King smirked, unbuttoning the pants before sliding them down Buck's hips. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Buck

Beneath his pants, he had on a tight black thong, just barely enough to keep himself restrained and certainly not leaving anything to the imagination. He wasn’t patient enough to wait for King to tug it off; he slid it down himself. He was almost painfully erect, tip already smeared with precum, framed prettily by the harness, a gold ring like the one around his tail in his photo wrapped around the shaft. Buck’s breath stilled as he awaited King’s reaction.

King

There was a short intake of breath at the sight, and a noise rumbled through him, somewhere between a purr and the rumble of thunder far off.

"Oh, that is _beautiful_," He said, quickly flipping them around to be able to lay Buck on the bed. Once situated, he nearly ripped the other's pants free and tossed them aside.

Buck

He could feel himself twitch at the sound of that sharp inhale, and he was sure he could feel that rumble like a vibration. He let King lay him down and finish undressing him, then eagerly spread his legs—here he was for King’s consumption, all of him on display, and King’s gaze felt like electricity across every inch of exposed flesh.

“I hope you’re going to let me see, too?” He stretched out a hand again toward King’s waist and his pants, not quite touching—waiting for permission.

King

King smiled, licking his lips. He moved closer, letting Buck's hands collide with his hips.

"Have at it, then. I'm all yours, darling." He winked.

Buck

“You honor me.” He pulled himself up into a sitting position by his grip on King’s waistband, then eagerly slid it down.

King

Pants and underwear both went down, and thus sprang forth his erection. Proportionally average on a demon of King's size meant it was quite large in size, standing at full attention. Not quite as eager looking as Buck's own, but certainly excited. King smirked.

Buck

To Buck, “excited” was the most important part. His smile didn’t change but a glint of hunger entered his eyes as he leaned closer, face inches from the tip. “A scepter fit for a king—hah! But you’ve probably heard that line before.” He placed his hands lightly on King’s thighs, close enough his fingers could brush the base of King’s cock if he wanted.

King

King laughed at the joke. "I have! But it still gets me every time." He chuckled a little more, and then smiled wider.

"I can see your eager for a taste. Go ahead, indulge yourself, darling."

Buck

He didn’t even reply; he just wrapped his hands around the base of King’s cock and leaned in, ran the flat of his tongue along the bottom side, and then slid the tip into his mouth. All with his eyes rolled up to keep watching King’s face.

King

King's breath caught, and he stared down at Buck, keeping his eyes on him. His hands wrapped around the other's antlers, grinning as he held tight.

Buck

Oh, to look up at his own face and know what a sight those eyes were seeing! If Buck dared try to stroke himself now, he was sure he’d immediately go off like a geyser.

He stilled when King’s hands gripped his antlers. “Do you want to take the reins?” (Don’t worry about where that voice is coming from when Buck’s mouth is clearly occupied. It’s probably normal.)

King

"No, do please continue, I was just getting a grip so as not to fall over in sheer pleasure." He winked, licking his lips again.

"I want to see what you can do."

Buck

“Well! If you insist…” Only the Radio Demon could smile so effortlessly with a jumbo dick stretching his jaw open.

And then he got to work, one hand gripping King’s ass to hold him close, head jerking back and forth to let King slide effortlessly into his throat, so ferociously and greedily that it wouldn’t seem far-fetched if he bit it off to keep it for himself.

King

King didn't try to keep himself quiet-- he wouldn't have been able to anyways, considering he was used to being as loud as he wanted-- and let his moans and groans fill the air. Mutterings of things like 'Good boy', and 'So pretty sucking my dick' intermixed with the noises. His hips moved with the motions of Buck, eagerly seeking more of that wet heat.

Buck

Every noise and note of praise was a hot jolt that zinged straight to his groin. He finally let himself wrap a hand around his own cock—it didn’t matter if he came this soon, he was pretty sure he didn’t *have* a refractory period anymore—and let his own orgasmic moaning contribute to the stimulation he was lavishing on King’s dick.

King

King let out a long moan of his own, tossing his head back as he lost himself to the sensation.

"Fuck, yes! Yes!" He groaned, hips snapping forward and back eagerly into the waiting mouth and throat. Another long moan signaled his own orgasm, and he spilled himself down Buck's throat.

Buck

Although that load was getting swallowed no matter what Buck did, he still tried to swallow it even harder, throat working around King’s dick. He jerked himself off faster, desperately trying to hasten a second orgasm—but it hovered just out of reach. That didn’t do anything to stop him from moaning just as zealously through King’s orgasm.

King

King panted softly, slowly pulling back to remove himself from Buck's mouth. He wasn't soft, no, far from it. His cock still stood proud, ready for more, and he grinned.

"What a lovely first course, I think I'm ready for the second," he said, lowering himself down further. He moved Buck's hand from his erection and swiped his tongue over the head, before taking the full thing in his mouth in one go. He started to bob his head quickly, his tongue sliding along the underside of his cock.

Buck

“Oh? What’s next on the menu—*ahh.*” It was half a noise of realization and half a moan. He let himself flop back down onto the mattress, tugging a pillow under his head to prop himself up just enough to watch King work. “Oh—*OH* that’s good, *oh YES.*” His own groans were easily as loud as King’s had been, although his dirty talk—what he could breathlessly get out between unfiltered moan—was less conventional. “You know, *most* people—“ he had to stop with a whine as he bucked up into King’s mouth, “—they’d prefer sixty-nining. But this—lets you watch and be watched. I—*hahh*—prefer that. Don’t you?”

King

"I certainly do!" King's voice was clear and crisp-- just as Buck's had been before.

"I'd much rather put on a show and what sort of show would it be without someone to watch+- or listen?" His head bobbed faster, and he chuckled, sending the vibrations through Buck's cock.

Buck

"*Oh,* so *true.*" His eyes narrowed to glowing yellow slits, Cheshire catlike. "I s-simply *need* an audience..." He was quickly losing his ability to carry on a conversation, or do much of anything but moan and gasp. He slung his leg over King's shoulder and gave himself up to pure noise and static. He was so close he could *taste* it. (Maybe he was tasting King.)

King

King could certainly taste it, and he hummed as his head bobbed, trying to give that little bit of extra stimulation to send him over the edge. His claws dug into his thighs, holding them down as he continued his work.

Buck

This time, when he spilled over, it was with a wail so loud it would be echoing through radio sets for miles around and a string of wild babble. There was something intoxicating about screaming his own first name as he came.

King

King swallowed down his load, sitting up as he licked his lips. He leaned down to kiss Buck, laughing against his lips.

"Third course?" He asked.

Buck

He shoved his tongue in King's mouth, getting a thorough taste of his own seed before he flopped back down. "*Please!*"

King

"Excellent. Do you have lube? We'll need to stretch you for me, I think," he said, smirking.

Buck

"We only need to if you're *into* that part of the process." Very few physical limits on a succubus. "But sure—I like this stuff, it's tingly." A snap and a bottle appeared in his hand.

King

"Oh? Good to know. I haven't fucked a succubus before," he said, laughing. He took the bottle and lubed himself up. King spread Buck's legs and lined up.

"Ready?"

Buck

"Really!" Now, that was a fascinating detail he'd have to ask about later. Much later.

He lifted his hips to give King a better angle. "Very!"

King

King placed his hand on Buck's hip, and pushed inside. He groaned, almost laughing at the feeling of the other around him. "You feel remarkable-- so welcoming, it's almost like you put out the mat for me!" He laughed more.

Buck

He immediately moaned, rocking against King, angling his hips to ensure King hit him *just* right. "Well—" he laughed shakily, "—you *are* my guest, and I do pride myself on being hospitable!"

King

King grunted as he pulled back and then thrust, laughing even as he did. "I think I'm the most welcome guest in Hell, then!" He continued to thrust faster.

Buck

"That's what I like to h—*ahh!*—hear!"

He met the thrusts as best he could, bucking his hips against King's, fists curled in the sheets hard enough to leave tears with his claws. Wasn't that a sight, King looking down at him while pounding him into the mattress. He hoped he was a sight worth looking at, but that was hard to control when each thrust had him seeing stars.

King

King found the perfect rhythm, the balance of speed and power that he knew would please, and stuck to it. His hand held to Buck's hip and he grinned wider, laughing in pleasure as he pounded the other.

"What a thrill, literally fucking myself!"

Buck

Buck laughed as well, a sharp, almost maniacal sound. "God, *isn't* it! Like watching a mirror but better!" A mirror couldn't watch you back.

He let out a particularly loud moan, "Oh, *f##k...* Like that, *just* like that—"

King

King panted as his hips snapped forward and back. His hand reached, and clasped around Buck's throat-- rough, but just holding-- and he turned his head aside to get to the smooth flesh of his shoulder. He buried his teeth deep, groaning into the bite and the taste of blood.

Buck

His hands flew to King's hand—not pulling it off but holding it in place—and he gasped sharply. The bite alone was almost enough to tip him over. He was desperate to return it, but—no, not with a hand around his throat. That said *stay down, stay put.*

"I'm gonna..." He laced one hand through King's hair, gasping, "Let me see your face when I come."

King

King's teeth released and he pulled back, mouth dripping blood. He stared down at Buck, panting as he continued to thrust, letting the other's blood drip onto his face and chest. His smile was a gruesome thing, but no doubt beautiful in it's own right.

Buck

Not much more gruesome than Buck's manic smile and wild eyes as his own blood dripped down on him. He stared at King's face as long as he could until another orgasm forced his eyes to roll back, his fingers digging into King's hand and clenching in his hair.

King

King grunted and panted, fucking Buck through his orgasm, and then leaning down to kiss him. He spread the blood over the other's lips, fucking him harder than before, grunting with each thrust.

"Fuck..." He muttered.

Buck

He was too dazzled and oversensitive to think straight. He kissed back automatically, biting at the taste of blood, groaning into the kiss with each thrust.

King

King panted harder, edging himself closer with every thrust, until he let out a cry of his own and came. His hand spasmed around Buck's neck, closing hard, but briefly. He stayed inside as he poured himself out, and the laid on top of the other demon, a laugh in his lips.

Buck

His voice went silent as King squeezed, nothing but the hiss of dead air; but only for a couple of seconds. And then he was loudly panting, staring up at the ceiling as he fought to catch his breath.

"*Well.*" Pant, pant. "And who says missionary is *boring*?"

King

"Only those who don't do it right." King's answer came quickly, even as he panted too. He pushed himself up and grinned wider.

"So, I suppose I did well? Up to your snuff and all that? Am I to get a standing ovation?" He winked.

Buck

"That would require standing, so no. I'm going to bask in the moment, and you're going to get a supine ovation." He applauded. A hundred invisible listeners applauded along. Some of them whistled.

King

King laughed, finally pulling out to flop onto the bed next to Buck. He let out a sigh of contentment and tucked his arm beneath his head.

"Thank you, thank you very much," He said. "I think _you_ deserve a supine ovation as well." He flicked his free hand, and even more raucous applause started, filling the room.

Buck

He kind of wanted to climb on and put it back in.

Oh, the thought of such a large audience watching... He flushed deeply enough that it managed to peek through his bright red skin, beaming broadly. "You're *too* kind!"

King

"I think we both performed splendidly! Very deserving of applause." The sound of clapping faded away, and King reached to wrap his arm around Buck and pull him close against his side.

Buck

Oh. *Cuddles.* Cuddles always took him by surprise. He could manage, though. He'd had practice. He magicked on his underwear (he was still half hard, and that sort of thing tended to ruin cuddles) and settled in against King's side, playing his part, arm draped across his waist.

King

King, meanwhile, summoned up a fresh rolled cigarette, and a holder for it. The end lit with a spark, and the took in a long draw. He blew out the smoke, and hummed.

"Do you smoke? I hope you don't mine me doing so, I tend to like one after a good fuck. Cliche it may be, but it does feel nice."

Buck

He gestured permissively. "Go ahead. I don't smoke myself, always thought it might damage my voice." He shifted himself up onto one elbow. "I wouldn't mind a drink, though. You?"

King

"Oh, certainly, I'd love one." He smiled, leaning to kiss Buck's cheek. "Whatever your having will work for me."

Buck

Affection, now. That would take some getting used to.

He summoned up a couple of glasses and offered one to King. "Vodka cranberry?" Cranberry juice was good to drink after sex. He'd heard that somewhere.

King

"Mm, delicious." He took another puff of his cigarette, pushing himself further into a sitting position as he took the glass. He sipped and smiled.

"I have a question: did you ever have sex before you became a succubus? Or did you simply have the hankering after?"

Buck

"Never had it before then. Never had the slightest interest. And then all of the sudden I had the interest thrust upon me." He let out a long sigh—but the person to complain to about one's sex drive probably isn't the person one just had sex with, so he let it go at that. "What about you? Did you always have a taste for it or did you pick it up somewhere?"

King

"I had my curiosities in life, but never more than a passing interest. I had libido, but no one with whom I wanted to pursue it. I had other things to think of. And then I died and found a partner whom I did things because he wanted. Then more happened and that was no longer an option, but my appetites had grown-- so now I indulge them with whom I will. No one that I've found sparks the interest itself, it's more...." He paused, taking a drag of his cigarette as he thought.

"It's more like I have the urge to simply do it, and so I find someone who is also willing-- and all the better if they're beautiful, no? Beautiful and amiable and _flexible_." He laughed. "I take my pleasures where I will, with whom I will. I have some favorites, but mostly, I'm not picky."

Buck

A nod in agreement. Good, they were on the same page on that. "I can't say I've ever looked at anyone and wanted *them.* What I've wanted is *their* want for me. I'm sure some people would call me selfish, but, well, I have to give them what they want to get what I want, isn't that reciprocity?" He smiled wanly. "Whoever stoked your appetite did you a grave disservice. Now *that's* selfish."

King

"I wanted him, and it was such a strange feeling. In the end, though, it wasn't to be-- my ambition outweighed the feelings we shared." He took another puff, and then another drink.

"Now I have a favorite concubine of sorts-- he even uses it in his marketing, and believe me, it does him wonders. 'The King's Favorite!' splashed everywhere can really rake in the money."

Buck

"Huh." He considered that as he took a thoughtful sip, then shook his head. "No, never wanted anyone like that." And thank goodness.

"Hah! I bet it *would.* Who is it, anyone I ought to know? Probably not, if his preferred clientele is royalty, but."

King

"You might still! He seems to be famous in most universes I've seen. It's Angel Dust." He chuckled and shrugged.

Buck

"Oh, the—what's he—a movie star? The fuzzy pink one? I've seen him on posters." He tried to recall if he'd seen any of Angel Dust's pornos as he took another sip. "I suppose he'd be an expert, being a professional and all."

King

"Porn star, yes! Though, in my universe he does porn audio broadcasts and stage performances, as well as regular sex work." He chuckled. "He's very good."

Buck

"I believe you. I never watched much porn, though." A shrug. "It doesn't do anything for me. Just frustrates me."

Stage performances, though—he liked the sound of that. He'd have to look into whether that happened around here. Well—strip clubs, he supposed, but he was imagining a larger audience...

King

"Oh, I don't much buy into the video porn. Some of the audio can be nice to listen to-- but that may just be because I like his voice." He chuckled. "He's a wonder to see on the stage, though, I recommend that. Quite the showman!"

Buck

"Hmm. Does he sing?" Sexual stage shows didn't do much for him either. He already knew what the coy stripper was hiding under their panties. 95% of the time there were only, like, two options.

King

"Sometimes! He dances, and does these acrobatics, it's very lovely. Maybe I could take you to see one of his performances sometimes-- mind, I'm talking about my own universe's variation, I'm not sure if the others do the same."

Buck

"Oh... sure, if he's got a particularly remarkable show anytime soon." He wasn't totally sold yet, but friends should meet their friends' concubines, probably.

King

"I'll have to see what all he's doing soon, I'll let you know." King smiled, finishing off his drink and his cigarette. "You might like him, he's very good at what he does."

Buck

"Well, if I can't trust my own taste, whose *can* I trust?" He finished his own drink and poofed the glasses away.

King

"So, I'd like to know: have I satisfied your hunger, or do you want more?" He said, smirking as he tilted his head and banished the rest of his cigarette.

Buck

He gave King an incredulous—and delighted—look. "Are you *offering* more?"

King

King snorted, and waved his hand. "Of course! I'm not just a....one, two, three and done kind of man! I'm yours for as long as you can stand me, darling." He winked.

Buck

His eyes brightened with glee. "Remind me to put your number at the front of my little black book." He snapped his fingers and his underwear vanished again.

King

"Oh, be sure to," He purred, grabbing Buck's wrist to tug him close. "You on top this time. Ride me." He ordered.

Buck

"Yes sir, with *pleasure.*" He rolled over on top of King to straddle him.

They were going to be at this a while.

[sagasofazeria]

Beginnings

Song of the Seven Suns, Part 2

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @hellishhin

(content warnings: violence, implied sex)

“So?”

“What?”

“You were making gay eyes at the guard. How’d it go?”

“I- Um. We’re gonna talk. Later.”

“Nice. Good for you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jetra smiled. A least Faulkron was quickly making friends. That would end up helping both of them. And honestly, what kind of bard would she be if she didn’t get her friends laid? Getting her new friend set up with somebody less than an hour after meeting said friend was a new record though, even for her.

As much as she enjoyed watching awkward gays at work, however, they had a purpose here other than flirting with cute mercenaries. Sighing and switching the subject to why they were actually here, she said, “Well, now that we’re here, we should see what trouble we can get into before the sun fully sets.”Seeing Faulkron’s reaction, she quickly amended her statement. “Metaphorically, that is.”

Faulkron chuckled a bit. “Hopefully it’s only metaphorical.” Then, he turned his amber eyes back towards the mercenaries, beginning to look around. “We should probably find whoever’s in charge first. Elikon, I think he mentioned?”

With eyes peeled for someone who looked important, the duo walked further into the compound. They could see mercenaries all around, some lounging, some sparring, some sitting intently around tables, planning jobs in hushed tones. Others were playing dice games or otherwise passing the time.

Jetra noted some other mercenaries around who looked promising. A particular halfling and dragonborn were sitting at a table, competitively playing cards. She made a mental note to talk to them later. She also noted a large wooden board, almost completely covered with papyrus scrolls nailed to its surface, likely detailing jobs and notices. Another thing to remember.

She was shaken from her scan of the place by Faulkron’s hand on her shoulder. She turned back to him, following where he was pointing with her eyes.

There in a small courtyard, in a pit of sand, stood 9 figures. The first 8 were standing in two rows, all of them standing dazed and sweaty. Standing in front of the two rows of exhausted trainees was a towering woman with a large spear in her hand. Her dark gray-brown skin was covered in white tattoos. The ones on her face were made like a stylized helmet, to match the gray mohawk that topped her head, as if it were the helmet’s crest. Jetra nodded her approval. Very cool. The woman watched as they approached, sizing them up as they got closer. When she spoke, her voice was rough and firm.

“Well, well, well. What’s this? Wait, hold on.”

She paused her regard of the newcomers to look at the trainees.

“Hey! You eight. You’re dismissed. Take a rest, get some water.”

While the trainees filed off to recover their strength, Faulkron walked forward, holding up a hand in greeting. “I’m Faulkron Rhodes, this is Jetra. Are you Elikon?”

The woman nodded, looking Faulkron and Jetra up and down. “In the flesh. What’s got you asking for me?”

Jetra had never really felt short before. She was happy with her height. However, given that Faulkron was nearly 6 foot, and Elikon was nearly 7 and a half, she was almost considering finding a box to stand on.

“We’ve come searching for opportunities. We were thinking about heading inland, most likely. We’d like to know of any offers, or jobs?”

“Hm. Well we’ve got a board up over by the barracks, you could look there. You’ll probably have better luck tomorrow though, new ones will probably be up by then, and I’m sure the best contracts from today have been taken already. You looking to join, or just here for the info?”

Faulkron bowed his head slightly as they began to back way. “We did not intend on joining, no. But thank you for your help.”

“Well that’s a shame. I could use a warrior like you... If you can back up all that muscle with skill, that is.”

Faulkron stopped.

“Are you insulting me?”

At his question, Elikon only crossed her arms and smirked. “Am I?”

Jetra watched as Faulkron’s eyes narrowed in response, and she suddenly was very glad she wasn’t standing on a box. It made it much easier to back the fuck away from whatever was about to happen.

So much for only metaphorical trouble. And this time it wasn’t even her fault. Which was, in itself, another record for the books.

•••

Elikon watched as Faulkron’s eyes narrowed in anger. She chuckled. “Don’t start this fight. I can spar ‘til dawn, and each mercenary here knows it, ‘cause they’ve seen it. I was only poking at ya. It ain’t worth the humiliation, kid.”

Faulkron felt his cheeks flush. He didn’t come here to fight, not technically. But he wasn’t gonna let this lady talk to him like that, no matter who she was. He’d take the challenge. And he definitely wasn’t gonna let her call him “kid”. Sure he was young for an elf, but not that young.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that at some point, most of the mercenaries had stopped their leisure activities to watch, and had even drawn a circle in the sand.

“I’m not a kid. And if you want to see skill, I’ll show you skill.”

Elikon chuckled. “Alright then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She threw him a wooden sparring sword, taking a wooden version of her own weapon from a rack just outside the circle. Then, she quickly got back into a fighting stance. He tried to get into his own stance, but before he could, the butt of Elikon’s spear swung towards his temple. He managed to duck, leaping to the side and readying the blade.

Elikon laughed. “Not bad, not bad.”

Before she could go on the offensive again, he stepped forward, slashing downward with a heavy swing. It was powerful, enough to send sand spraying when it hit the ground rather than its target. Elikon was surprisingly nimble for such a large woman, and she had already sidestepped.

He turned back towards her, just in time to deflect away a jab with the spear and make a quick swing of his own. This one she simply knocked away with her gauntlet, before continuing her assault.

The fight went on, both fighters attacking back and forth, blow after blow. Faulkron could feel himself wearing out, but Elikon kept going, barely even winded. After quite a few minutes of intense sparring, Faulkron was panting, sweat pouring down his face. Thankfully, the sun had set, and it was cooling off now, but his muscles were aching, and the temperature wasn’t helping him much now.

He watched as Elikon stalked forward, spear held aloft. Before he could make another attack, she spun her weapon, aiming to slam the shaft into his side. Before the hit could land, however, he caught the spear, using his other hand to swing his sword forward with all his weight. She twisted to dodge, but she wasn’t fast enough, and blade cracked across her chest. Quite literally, cracked. Faulkron watched in shock as the other half of the sword fell to the ground, Elikon laughing all the while. There was no evidence, save the broken sword, that he’d even hit her at all.

“This skin’s tough, but that was a good one! I like the spirit.” He almost thought it was over, until his legs were swept from under him. He slammed onto his back, hard. Elikon just laughed again, before she offered a hand to help him up. Defeated and exhausted, he accepted. She pulled him to his feet easily, clapping him on the back. “You could use some training still, but you’ve definitely got skill. The offer to join up still stands, if you wanna think about it. You did well. Now go get some rest, and drink some water.”

As Faulkron made his way out of the courtyard with his wounded pride in tow, he saw Jetra talking to two more mercenaries, where it looked like they had been watching the fight. They were all sitting around a table with some game pieces scattered across it. Jetra stood as he approached, tossing him a cloth.

“If it makes you feel any better, it was at least one hell of a show.”

Faulkron sighed. “Not much, but thanks.” He turned to the other two people at the table. “Who are they?”

The first one stood on his chair at being mentioned, hands on his hips, bringing him to just about eye level.

“I’m Fuego Tamir. Sorcerer, assassin, and baddest bitch around. ‘Sup.”

Faulkron looked over Fuego. The halfling was dressed in dark robes with flame designs on it, and the chest and arms were open, showing off a startling amount of tattoos. The biggest one, right on the center of his chest, was a large stylized skull with “RUN” written beneath it, right between two small identical u-shaped scars just under his chest muscles. His hair was dyed a fiery red at the ends, and held up in a ponytail, shaved at the sides of his head to make room for more tattoos. He had a scimitar on his hip that also had crimson flame designs carved onto it.

“I’m Faulkron. And who are you?” He looked over to the blue dragonborn warrior who sat in the other chair. Her scales were a vibrant blue, but they were covered with various cloths that looked suited for desert travel. A khopesh hung off of their left hip.

“I am Shakari. You fought well, Faulkron.”

“Thanks.”

Jetra nodded. “They’re headed inland too. We were talking, and it looks they’ve both got experience with both magic and the blade. Figured they might join us. Could always use some extra swords.”

Faulkron nodded. “Ah, good idea. If you all don’t mind though, I’m going to go recover. Jetra?”

“I’ll see you in the morning. Come find me at the Spinning Compass, by the marketplace. We can devise a plan then.”

“See you then.”

Fuego called out as well. “When you need to find us, we’ll be here.”

Faulkron nodded in response. He eventually recollected himself, and began heading off to find some place to rest. Before he could leave the compound though, he was approached by Alejandro, who was smiling and holding two flasks.

“Hola! You did pretty good out there. I haven’t been here long, but it seemed you made a lot of good impressions. Most of the warriors that spar with Elikon last half the time you did.”

Faulkron faltered a bit, not expecting such immediate praise from Alejandro, or to be told he actually did well.

“Well, I’m sure you did really well too.”

“I’d like to say I did, but it wasn’t quite as spectacular as your fight.”

Alejandro paused a moment. “I’m sure Elikon told you drink water, would you like some?” he asked, holding out the other flask.

“Yeah, she did. Thank you.” Faulkron gladly accepted, gulping down the water. After he finished, he stood for a moment, unsure what to say next.

“I... you wanted to talk, right?”

Alejandro nodded. “Sí, I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere with less rules and less deadly weapons, and talk a while? Maybe have some drinks?”

“That... yes! It sounds good, yes.” Faulkron was starting to stumble over himself a bit, still a little tired and kind of in shock that this was happening at this specific moment.

“Good! Come then. If you haven’t already heard, the wine here is to die for. It’s one of the things I’ve got to give the company credit for, they did pick a good city for a bunch of thirsty mercenaries to revel in.”

With that, Faulkron followed Alejandro back to the pavilion in the marketplace he’d seen earlier, which was now far busier. They drank and talked for a while, and by the time midnight came around they were both grinning like idiots. They danced with the music as the night went on, occasionally bumping into each other or other dancers. Eventually, Faulkron stepped away from the pavilion a few paces, Alejandro just behind him.

Faulkron took a deep breath of the night air to clear his mind. He was far more relaxed now, and he was enjoying his night with Alejandro immensely. They had talked about a lot of things, from fighting to weapons to the ocean to the wine. Overall, it was going quite well. Suddenly, he had an idea. “Let’s go on a walk. It’s way too hot and loud here, and I’m sure it looks nice here at night.”

“I agree, it is perhaps a little crowded. And the city does look quite nice at night, though I’m not certain that it’d compare with what I’ve already seen.” Alejandro said it nonchalantly, but there was a flirtatious tone in his voice as he regarded Faulkron.

Faulkron could only hope Alejandro couldn’t tell how hard he was blushing.

Decision made, they began to walk off, snaking their way out of the crowded pavilion, through the marketplace and out into the silent torchlit streets.

They walked along for a while, enjoying the fresh air, the tapestry of shining stars in the clear night sky, and each other’s company, letting the effects of the wine trickle away.

Eventually, Faulkron turned to Alejandro. It was late, and he started to ramble on before he could stop himself.

“Okay, so I know it’s late so you should probably head back to the camp and sleep. I will be fine, because I’m elvish, but you need your sleep, you know? This has been fun, please don’t get me wrong, I really liked it, but I don’t wanna keep you up and-“

He was halted by Alejandro’s finger on his lips.

“Hush. It’s alright. I can sleep in. It isn’t that much of an issue. Plus, they don’t exactly allow swordplay in the compound barracks.” Alejandro winked at the word ‘swordplay’.

Faulkron felt his face flush again as he caught the meaning.

“Oh. Good point. Okay. Yeah. I mean, if you say so. Are you sure?” Faulkron laughed a little with nervousness. How in all the worlds is he still interested?

“I’m sure.”

Alejandro grinned, then slowly leaned forward, and placed a small kiss on Faulkron’s jaw. Faulkron felt it almost like a distant breeze, and his face got warm again.

Alejandro smiled at him again. “There’s more where that came from, you know.”

And Faulkron wasn’t about to say no to that.

With that, the two wandered off into the night.

Part 1 | Part 3