#although well. maybe its inappropriate

[jejesart]

family name

[jojikawa]

Sukuna’s Vessel, Yuuji Itadori.

Your time as Sukuna’s wife was a small blip in time. Something you nearly forgot until a pink-haired boy tries to talk to you

tw// fluff, adult language, MC is Lilith! (a powerful demoness) if this does well I will make multiple parts.

masterlist

Art by icebuko

Was inspired by this scene from RWBY. dividers

You have already adjusted to your life in this world. It was hard to know if this is what you enjoyed or not but there was much less violence and a lot more excitement and love…You figured the mundane life suited you better. You became interested in the culture of Japan, you taught yourself its current traditions and you learned to be an elementary school teacher. No idea of why you were resurrected in this modern age came to your mind, but all you could do was live. Although, for years upon years, you felt like something was missing, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

Just when that feeling was beginning to fade, you met a particular boy. You stood in the spring rain with your transparent umbrella, dressed in business casual as you helped your young, toddler students cross the busy street. Silently, you desperately tried to shield the babies from the harsh rain and cold air. The children scattered, going on their way back home using the routes you taught them so that they could be fast.

“Um, excuse me…?”

It was the boy you had seen before. He was young, probably a teenager. You noticed him stalking you for a bit now. What could he have wanted from you?

His hair was an unnatural color, maybe dyed. His uniform wasn’t anything like you had recognized and on his feet were painfully red shoes that hurt your eyes. Truly the sense of style for a young boy in this age fashion.

“Yes?” You turned around to look at the boy. He was visibly nervous but you tried to comfort him with a welcoming smile. As you examined him, you got a sense of familiarity.

“Are you….(y/n)?”

You blinked for a moment. Could this have been an older sibling of one of your students?

“I am.” You replied. “Is there…something you want to speak to me about?” You tilted your head and he became increasingly restless under your watchful eyes. “Can we talk in private?” The boy asked politely. You looked down at your watch. It seemed you had time before you needed to go home to prepare your lesson for the next day of teaching.

You humored the boy. The two of you walked to a nearby park where he told you his name and his occupation. He told you why he was going to school. If what he was told was true, you should already know about curses and sorcerers. He also asked you questions.

Yuuji asked things like if you had a family, what you’ve been doing with your time, etc. But then he asked who you were and if you loved anyone.

You found it rather inappropriate that someone so young and strange to you was asking about your personal life.

Now, the two of you sat on the bench. The rain eased to a drizzle and you began to enjoy the little time you had left with the boy. “Why does who I may love matter to a boy like you? You should be into girls your own age.” You joked, closing your umbrella and leaning it against the edge of your wooden seat. Yuuji blushed at your comment and raised his hands before shouting. “N-No, it’s not like that! I was asking f-for a friend!”

“A friend?” You repeated, raising your eyebrow slightly. You couldn’t recall anyone who wouldn’t be interested in you. “Well, I need to get going.” You told him. “Dinner’s calling me and I have to grade my student’s tests.” You smiled kindly, beginning to stand before the boy suddenly stopped you. He grabbed the sleeve of your attire before uttering:

“Are you really the wife of Ryomen Sukuna?”

Your mouth opened to speak. You felt the world stop and it was like you couldn’t feel the rain on your skin anymore. That was a name you haven’t heard forever.

“Who told you that name?”  Your ability to make Yuuji feel calm was soon diminishing. Yuuji didn’t reply at first. His eyes darted from you and often looked to the right as if he were in thought. He would hold his head but never made an effort to mention why he was behaving so erratically.

“I guess that means you are her.”

Your face eased. “So, I assume that you have revealed yourself to me because you plan to kill me like what happened hundreds of years ago or so?” You tilted your head before giving him a closed-eyed smile. “Huh?? Oh, N-No, of course not. My sensei doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Then…who sent you?” You sat back down by Yuuji. The boy didn’t answer you. His gaze broke from yours. “Yeah, Yeah, I’m getting to that!” He muttered but rather loudly. The boy didn’t seem to be talking to you.

He then turned his full attention to you again. “How did you meet Sukuna?” His question was innocent but it held unimaginable weight. “First,” You raised a finger. “How do you know that name?”

Yuuji shoved his hands into his pockets. “School.” He lied…half lied.

“They’re teaching you about him at your school…? Gods…” You sighed softly. “I knew Sukuna a long time ago but my story goes beyond him. I’m much older than him, you see.” You looked down at your black pumps. It was expected of you to wear this for your job. You suddenly felt the pressure of walking in them all day and kicked them off just a bit.

“Older?”

You nodded. “I was actually the first woman. I was the first wife of Adam. You know who that is?” You broke your gaze with the ground to see that the boy was staring at you rather intently. Was he even listening? He wasn’t even blinking. “Yuuji.” You called, ripping him from his daydream.

“H-Huh? Oh, Adam? Um…” He thought for a moment before shaking his head. You smiled. “It’s okay if you don’t. It’s more of a Western tale…” Your manicured nails dug into the soft wooden chair. “Adam was a jerk.” The frown you held was small but behind it was an anger that only the Gods could fathom.

The boy’s ears perked up. “Oh, like Adam and Eve! You’re Eve!” He looked as if he had hit the lottery with a guess that good. But…

You laughed again. “No. Eve came after me. She was the more obedient wife. I’m often erased from history.” Your posture eased and you leaned your back against the bench. “Ryomen Sukuna was the only man that ever loved me. And that I loved back.” Your heart rate quickened thinking of your lover. “You humans know him as a horrible threat…which is true.”

“But I was a horrible person too. We were horrible together…my Ryomen.” You said his name so breathlessly. It was so long ago but you replayed your favorite moments with him. There was no harm in talking about Sukuna, right? He was long gone so this boy’s superiors couldn’t have been targeting you for any reason. You enjoyed pretending to be a human. This wouldn’t be a problem, right?

Yuuji didn’t say a word. He hid his eyes from you, sinking further into his jacket. Without saying much of anything, you effortlessly humanized Sukuna. It didn’t make the boy feel any less hostile toward the King of Curses but it did give him insight into what kind of person he was. He had a soft spot for at least one person. Without warning, he sat up straight. “Um…would you say you still loved him?”

Normally, you would be put off by such a question, but you were already deep in this conversation. Your eyes wandered to the people entering the park here and there. They pushed their kids in strollers and walked their dogs. The sound of the cars driving behind you was painstakingly loud as you tried to think of the past. You answered. “Yes, I do.”

Suddenly, Yuuji erupted with activity. The way he pulled his hood over his head and turned away concerned you. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” You leaned over going to rest a hand on your shoulder when you heard muffled speaking. “Yuuji—”

“I-It’s nothing! ‘Just cold, sorry!” He blurted out, causing you to recoil back. “I see…” You replied, going back into your place. “I wonder what ever happened to Ryomen.” You looked down at your watch. It was time for you to go now.

“I know where Sukuna is.”

“What?” The corner of your mouth instinctively raised into a smirk but your eyes were wide as saucers. “I didn’t peg you as a prankster but I suppose I should’ve expected it.” Your tenseness eased, before shutting your eyes and laughing to yourself. Sukuna? Here? No, that surely wasn’t true. The world would be in ruin if he were. 

“I’m serious!” Yuuji then proceeded to explain to you his unique situation that involved him swallowing your lover’s fingers and, in turn, bonding them together. You still didn’t know what to believe. It almost made you angry…you somehow felt that perhaps, sorcerers were watching you, waiting to see if you’d break your masquerade as a human if they convinced you that he was alive.

You clenched the handle of your umbrella as it lay beside you. “If Sukuna is really inside of your body, then let me speak to him.” You were….half serious. You wanted so badly to just hear his voice again, even if he were saying something vulgar or pure evil. Or to know if this was all just a trick. Yuuji rubbed the nape of his neck. “I can’t really do that. Not in public, he might—”

“He won’t.” You interrupted. “I’ll make sure he won’t.” 

Yuuji had no choice but to trust you. For the last day, he’s had Sukuna yelling at him so loudly and often that he wasn’t able to tune it out like always. For a moment, Yuuji stopped resisting Sukuna’s pull on him, allowing the curse to take over his body. There was a familiar set of markings that appeared on his body and face. The amount of joy, confusion, and concern that filled your body was undeniable.

Although your Ryomen Sukuna was in front of you, trapped inside the body of a boy, you felt like it was a trick. Maybe it wasn’t sorcerers casting a spell on your mind. Perhaps it was God punishing you one last time or it was Adam trying to take one last jab at you before you experienced true death.

Once you laid eyes upon Sukuna, it still looked as if Yuuji still had control. His eyes were like that of a dear in headlights while his face was full of admiration.

“Ryomen?” You called his name, causing the vessel he was in to flinch. His eyes then turned serpent-like. They were eyes you knew very well.

“It seems as though you have been resurrected.” He rested his head on his palm, those same eyes wandering your body, staring shamelessly at your chest area and thighs. “But you can never be too sure. How do I know you’re real?” He fidgeted more in his seat—more than Yuuji actually. He tapped his foot on the ground, drummed his fingers on his leg, and even sank his nails into his jawline out of anticipation.

The question caused you to blink. “You’re asking me if I’m real—?”

“Hurry. You have—” His gaze shifted downward for a brief moment before it went back to you. “—less than 60 seconds. If you can’t answer me, I’ll kill you and be done with it. Tell me what I said to you the first time we met. Only I and the real (y/n) know of this.” 

Your mouth curled into a pleasant smile. You turned your hips towards him. “I’m not scared of a little monster like you.” You locked eyes with him. “When I met Ryomen, the first words to me were ‘You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’ And I said, ‘I think the Gods would disagree.’ He laughed in a way I would never forget before telling me: ‘Give me a son and I’ll give you the world.’” 

Sukuna was unmoving. His antics completely stopped and he listened. So silent…it was unlike him. You continued.

“I was devastated when he asked that of me. I said ‘I can not have a child. My womb is corrupt.’ And so he vowed to make—”

“Shit, it really is you.” The words pour out of his mouth like a waterfall. “It’s been so long. I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing living a mundane life with mortal scum?!” He cursed and threw out his insults, not even caring about the poor humans who walked by and were forced to listen to him. You smiled attractively. “I kinda like this ‘scum’” You replied, mimicking his voice so well you sounded like a female version of him.

“What happened to your body? Why are you burrowed away inside of a child?” Your head tilted with curiosity. His vessel was much smaller than his original although, it was nice seeing what he’d be like as more of a man human and less of a monster.

Sukuna parroted the same thing Yuuji did, confirming the truth. The boy ate his finger.

“…but once I return to full power, I’ll make the Gods pay for what they did to you.” He wanted nothing more than to just reach out and touch you. It’s been so long since he’s seen you…

…since he’s heard your voice.

Hundreds and hundreds of years of his consciousness lingered beyond his execution and his only thought was you. Even then, aspects of you had faded in his memory. Where were your horns and claws? Did you even have either of those? You had a sword too? No? Oh, he couldn’t remember but one thing that did stick with him was your presence. Sukuna could track you like a bloodhound and find you at every corner of the earth.

“The Gods wouldn’t care about you, Ryo.” A dry laugh left your lips at his awestruck face. “They don’t even care about me…but, my ex-husband Adam—will return. You’ll be good to me and kill him, right?” Your sweet smile turned into a smirk, your eyes turned warm and filled with lust. Sukuna picked up on your subtle cues, his mouth going from slightly agape to a twisted, toothy grin. “I’ll bring you his head, I swear!”

“Hm.” Your eyes lit up with enthusiasm. You couldn’t help but rest your palm on his cheek. Yuuji’s skin was much smoother and softer than Sukuna’s monstrous features. “…and if you objectify me again, I’ll obliterate you.” Your manicured nails grazed his skin, threatening to pierce the vessel at any moment.

Sukuna was confused—not afraid. He hasn’t wronged you so why are you threatening him? It was then that he noticed your eyes. They glowed red.

That’s right, you were rather observant. His hungry eyes were already sexualizing in every way possible.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Sukuna replied, his wide demonic grin returning to his soft features.  “But ya know, if you want, you can have me right now.”

Your eyes softened before you exhaled. “In that body?” You chuckled. “Maybe when it matures a little.” Your words made his smile fade and his nose scrunch up in disgust. “Who cares how old this vessel is?! It’s ME!”

“And you’re a bit short for my liking.” You fake pouted before letting go of his face. Upon instinct, he rubbed the claw markings you left behind. “I’m still taller than your small ass. You women are so picky with your size kinks.” he spat, rolling his eyes. “Next, you’ll ask me to put the world in your hands. And what do you bring to the table, huh?”

“Myself.” You replied before placing an innocent kiss on his cheek.

“Then, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stick around.”

[erikatsu]

slutty old man welt 🧐 😋 monch 😋

tw: fem!reader. [n]sfw. age gap (cuz welt's like 80 lmao). mention of masturbation (m). oral (m!receiving). reader refers to welt as "mr. yang". pussy job (sorta). clothed sex. creampie. a bit rushed but oh well. maybe a bit ooc but i tried my best :,)

note: i went from idc for welt to okay im simping for welt LMAO. i love slutty old guys sue me. also lala im so sorry, i got carried away

welt yang often thought himself to be an ethical man. he'd been taught responsibility from a young age, always tried to do the right thing. at least he did until he met you. you'd caught his eye, but he knew better than to get involved with someone so young. however, the more he got to know you, the more he couldn't help himself.

it started out as looking at you for a little too long, knowing that he shouldn't. it's wrong the way his eyes linger as he watches you walk away, and you don't even realize you have his complete and undivided attention with your back turned to him. he knew that it wasn't okay, that he was old enough to be your grandfather even if physically he looked old enough to be your dad.

he didn't know when the lines began to blur– his inappropriate attraction to you turning into something much more than that– and he didn't know if it would ever go away. then again, welt wasn't even sure that he wanted it to. there was no harm in having a crush, especially if he didn't act on it. but, that was just wishful thinking– something he told him himself to rationalize his thoughts and feelings.

unfortunately for him, it got worse as time went on and those thoughts he tried to keep at bay were crossing his mind more often. and eventually, he stopped trying to hold them back all together. he stopped feeling guilty for thinking them too. so long as he wasn't trying to pursue you, he could maintain his integrity. even if at times he had to leave the room due to this. it's not as if it were entirely his fault. after all, welt had the power of his imagination.

every time you paraded around in shorts, he couldn't help but try to picture what you had on underneath them– was it lace, or silk, or perhaps nothing at all? he couldn't help himself when he'd see you had a sucker in your mouth, imagining what it would be like if it was your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock instead. that imagination always led him to where he is right now, sitting at his desk in his room with his head tilted back as he fisted his cock to the thought of you.

it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for him. although, you walking in on him just as your name almost fell from his lips was. a gasp fell from your mouth, one that would sound even prettier if he was the reason behind it, and he tried to react quick enough so you couldn't see what he was doing. but, it was too late.

you could see the embarrassment painting his cheeks a bright pink, and instead of turning around like you should have, you stayed. it surprised him when you asked, "mr. yang... do you need some help?"

of all the scenarios he imagined, this certainly was not one of them.

he cleared his throat, about to shake his head. not that he didn't want it, because he did. he did and the thought of it becoming a reality had him throbbing. but what kind of man would he be if he took advantage of your kindness? if he crossed that fine line? words, however, seemed to fail him when he went to speak.

its not as if you were being kind. you had also taken an interest in him– maybe not to the extent he did– and the curiosity and excitement were definitely there. you weren't quite sure what exactly it was about him, but he'd drawn you in without even trying. and the way he hesitated to answer told you what you already knew. he was interested, but he had his morals.

it wasn't until you approached and knelt in front of him that he let them all fly out the window. your hand replaced his, gentle yet firm. he let out a shaky breath, eyes closing before you took him in your mouth. he couldn't help the noise that escaped him, one of the scenarios he imagined finally playing out in real life.

it was ten times better than what went through his head.

he could tell you were enjoying how much of a mess he became so easily– purposely taking your time going down before coming up and teasingly snaking your tongue along his pink tip. you couldn't help but wonder just how long it had been since the last time a woman had touched him like this, seeing how he was already so close to the edge. possibly years, you figured as your free hand came up to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze. perhaps even longer, you concluded upon hearing the groan that escaped him.

you pulled away, leaving your hand where it was, still toying with him as you looked up at him, "mr. yang, just how long has it been since someone properly took care of you?"

too long, he wanted to say. but his mind was overran by all the sensations he was feeling due to you. luckily, you were sharp and your assumptions were correct. you hummed to yourself before standing, his eyes flying open once your touch was gone. imagine his surprise when he saw you sliding out of those cotton shorts you always loved to wear.

he couldn't believe how one person left him utterly speechless, unable to process what was about to happen as you sat in his lap. he watched as your eyes left his, briefly glancing down to his lips. almost as if you were hesitant to make another move. although he couldn't muster the courage to speak, he could certainly pull you closer and press his lips against yours with ease.

his hands flew down to your hips, rocking you against his length. you whimpered against his mouth, already aching for him. you definitely didn't need the warm up– his reactions alone were enough to get you going– yet you allowed yourself to enjoy it for the moment. the two of you crossed a line there was no coming back from, and the possibility of this being the only time had the both of you engrossed in the other. trying to memorize the way you two fit together as if you were puzzle pieces.

the thought of this being the only time flipped some kind of switch in his mind, his hands moving to your thighs before standing up and taking you with him. he took just a couple of steps before lying you down on his bed, eagerly slipping out of his before hovering over top of you. his eyes searched yours for any sign of apprehension or nervousness. but he found none. a simple nod of your head was all it took to have him pushing one of your legs back and lining himself up with your entrance.

as he sank into you, he once again caught you by the mouth. you whined as he slowly stretched you out, trying to keep quiet so you didn't catch the unwanted attention of the others. the express had thin walls, and everyone throughout the hall would hear you if they were in their rooms.

"let it out," he muttered, rolling his hips with a slow steady rhythm, allowing you to adjust to him. "dont get shy now."

it didn't seem to be an option, using that moment to fully bottom out inside you. your back arched and a choked noise left your mouth. he did this a few times– keeping his thrusts short yet deep– picking up his pace until your whines and whimpers turned into moans. you could feel your toes curl as the tip of his cock lightly kissed that sweet spot, finally crying out, "mr. yang. r-right there."

he thought the two of you were now well past formalities, but he couldn't help but groan that escaped him at your use of "mr. yang". it had him rutting quicker, and with a bit more force. you were panting, clinging to him while squeezed your eyes shut. his hips were moving at an alarming rate as you dug your fingers into his skin, clenching around him as you cried out. a knot quickly built up in your stomach, releasing just as quickly as it came.

cursed left his mouth as you tightened around him, excited moans leaving you and a euphoric sensation sweeping over your body leaving you a shaking mess underneath him. he hadn't even heard his warning that he was going to cum too, but you didn't seem phased when he pushed into you with one final thrust.

you tried to catch your breath, staring up at him through your lashes. he was still hard, cock twitching inside you as he also tried to cool down. you briefly bit down on your lip, unable to stop yourself from asking, "are you up for another round, mr. yang?"

TAGS: @dottores @dxlucs @mxnjiros @suyacho

[fortheloveofwonderland]

But it’s Better if You Do | SR x Fem! Reader

Summary - the Blue Siren strip club is the last place Spencer Reid wants to spend his birthday. And the absolute last thing he needs is to fall for you, the magnetic exotic dancer who Morgan and Luke pay to give him a birthday dance.

A/N - as a rule, I am not technically writing Spencer x Reader right now but this is for @imagining-in-the-margins damsel in distress challenge although it’s a very vague fit. Kind of anti damsel in distress? I don’t know, let’s just roll with it. Candy Shop by 50 Cent is the song used in Magic Mike XXL when Adam Rodriguez does his lil sexy dance so the song choice was an homage to that. Loosely based around the Panic at the Disco song “But it’s Better if You Do.”

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Exotic Dancer Fem! Reader

Category - fluff I suppose? Maybe mild angst. Happy ending.

CW - exotic dancer reader, Morgan and Luke are bad wingmen, hints at lesbian Emily, strip clubs, snarky Spencer, drinking, swearing, Spencer and his inappropriate erection, brief mentions of masturbation, making out.

WC - 8.2k

Oh, isn't this exactly where you'd like me?

I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.

Praying for love and a lap dance,

And paying in naivety.

The last place Spencer Reid ever expected to find himself on his fortieth birthday was at the Blue Siren Club just off of Dupont Circle. For starters, Spencer wasn’t a big drinker so going to a bar didn’t appeal to him on any other given night, let alone his birthday, but there was much more to the Blue Siren than just being your run of the mill club.

The Blue Siren was well known as being one of the most reputable strip clubs in the district. According to the extensive research Spencer had done when he found out he was to be coming here, it was one of the more exclusive clubs, and if Morgan was to be believed it was popular among law enforcement and other government officials due to its clandestine nature.

From the outside, the Blue Siren looked just like a normal club. If you were to pass it by you may not even glance up at the exposed brick facade and black front door. In the lone window in the front sat a small blue neon sign boosting the club's name and that was all. You wouldn’t be alone in walking right past the establishment without batting an eyelid. 

When Luke had suggested the idea to spend his birthday here, Spencer’s immediate reaction had been laughter, because it had to be a joke, right? Strip clubs and Spencer Reid were not a combination anyone who knew him would put together, surely? 

“Why are you laughing?” Luke frowned at him, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Because you’re making a joke?” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“You’re not?” Spencer’s laughter came to a sudden halt and he stared at Luke in disbelief. “You…you seriously think that’s how I want to spend my birthday?” 

“I was talking to Morgan and-“

“No sentence in the history of the English language that starts with “I was talking to Morgan” has ever had a happy ending.” Spencer scoffed. 

“It’s the happy ending part we’re trying to achieve.” Luke smirked at him, a playful hint in his eye that caused Spencer to swallow thickly at the implication. 

“Y-you…I…” 

“When was the last time you got laid, Reid?” 

Spencer felt the moment his cheeks burnt with an intense embarrassment. In all the years he’d known Luke they had never once discussed their sex lives. In fact, Spencer made it a rule to never discuss his sex life with anyone. 

“That’s a deeply personal question.” He shrunk in on himself. 

“Which is Spencer Reid for, it’s been a while.” Luke smiled knowingly. 

“I…I don’t have to answer that.” 

“You kinda just did.” 

“Regardless,” Spencer shook his head, trying to steer the conversation off of his sex life, or lack thereof. “Strip clubs aren’t brothels. The women don’t sleep with their customers.”

“Morgan and I decided it was slightly more appropriate than buying you a hooker.” 

If Spencer thought he was embarrassed before, he was now absolutely mortified. 

“I don’t need help getting “laid”, as you so eloquently put it.” Spencer shook his head, turning back to his desk and sorting through some papers to distract himself.

“Don’t you?” An amused voice came from behind him and Spencer groaned, running his hands through his hair. He turned slowly in his chair to see Emily standing over him, an almost delighted look in her eyes. “What are we talking about?”

“Morgan and I want to take Reid to Blue Siren for his birthday next week.” Luke filled her in.

“Oh that place is great!” She beamed. “Can I come?”

“Where are we going?” Rossi seemingly appeared as if from nowhere with his coffee and newspaper. 

Spencer grumbled, face palming his hand as the group around him gathered.

“We’re taking Spence to Blue Siren for his birthday.” Emily happily told him.

“Blue Siren? Huh,” Rossi nodded his head. “I haven’t been there for years, count me in. I’ll even see if Hotch wants to join.”

“For the love of god.” Spencer muttered against his hand. No one seemed to hear him and if they did, they ignored him.

“Join what? What did I miss?” Garcia came tottering in on her too high heels, laptop balanced precariously in the crook of her arm.

“Apparently the kid wants to go to a strip club for his birthday.” Rossi informed her.

“No, No.” Spencer shook his head, looking up at them. “The kid does not want to go to a strip club for his birthday.”

“Oh isn’t it the big four-oh?” Garcia bounced up and down in excitement. “You have to do something special for it!”

“I highly doubt a strip club can be deemed as special.” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Strip club?” Matt strolled into the conversation now and Spencer wanted to just vanish into thin air.

“Yeah we’re taking Reid for his birthday. Want in?” Luke asked him.

“As long as no one ever tells Kristy.” Matt chuckled. 

“What aren’t we telling Kristy?” Tara popped her head up from her desk, Spencer didn’t even know she was there. 

“That we’re going to a strip club for Reid’s birthday.” Matt offered her a sly smile.

“Oh sweet! Count me in.” She grinned. 

“How about you guys go, since you’re all so excited about it and just tell me how it was? I’ll stay home with a book or something.” Spencer sighed but no one acknowledged him. 

The door opened again and JJ meandered in, all eyes turning to look at her. 

“Uh, hi?” She laughed awkwardly as she walked across the bullpen.

“Have you ever been to a strip club, Jayje?”

Spencer groaned loudly, crumbling in on himself and smacking his head against the hardwood of his desk. Sometimes it was just easier to go along with these things than try to fight them.

And so, only slightly against his will, Spencer let them talk him into spending his birthday in the last place he ever expected to find himself, least of all on his birthday. The whole team was in attendance, plus Morgan and Hotch, he could only assume to have a front row seat to his complete mortification. They met outside the club, waiting for JJ who was late due to the fact she couldn't get Michael to go to sleep. Luke had gone so far as to pick Spencer up from his apartment, which was in the opposite direction, just so the birthday boy wouldn’t have an excuse for ditching them at the last minute.

“Is that really what you’re wearing to go to a strip club, pretty boy?” Morgan nudged Spencer in the arm.

Spencer glanced down at his attire, what he would call a sensible outfit but was clearly not what he was supposed to be wearing given Morgan’s judgemental gaze. It wasn’t a far cry from what he wore everyday, it wasn’t as though Morgan had never seen him dress like this before. He’d donned a perfectly pressed pair of black slacks, pairing them with his old faithful converse, a crisp blue button down and his black Comme Des Garçons cardigan Rossi had gifted him for his birthday a few years ago. He’d decided against a tie, because that seemed too formal for the occasion even for him. 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He frowned, pouting a little. 

He quickly eyed up the other men who were all wearing jeans and t-shirts, Rossi and Hotch included. He couldn’t even get started on how strange it was to see Hotch in jeans. 

“You look like a TA.” Matt shrugged. 

“I always look like a TA. Do you guys think I suddenly dress differently outside of work?” He folded his arms.

“I kind of hoped you did.” Luke smirked. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be my birthday?” Spencer grumbled. “I’m already at the last place I want to celebrate so please can we just leave my outfit choices alone?” 

“I think you look dapper.” Tara patted his shoulder like he was her annoying kid brother or something. 

“Thanks?” He pulled a face. 

“And speaking of birthdays!” Garcia was rummaging in her oversized purse before pulling something out. “Voila!”

Spencer frowned at the large, slightly garish, blue and yellow badge proclaiming “Forty Today” in obnoxious bubble font. It was bigger than Garcia’s hand, she surely didn’t expect him to wear that.

“Uh, no offence but there is no way in hell you are getting me to wear that.” He took it from her anyway, slotting it in the front of his satchel. 

“Spoil sport.” Emily chided him. “Anyone would think you don’t like your birthday!”

“I don’t very much like this particular birthday.” He muttered under his breath. “Where is Jennifer? I’d really like to just get this over with.” 

As if on cue, he heard heels on the concrete ground and seconds later the blonde appeared, dragging someone behind her. She smiled as she came round the corner, tugging Will into view under the streetlamp. 

Oh good, more people to witness my humiliation. 

“Hey guys, sorry we’re late!” She gave them apologetic glances. 

“Will, I didn’t know you’d be joining us.” Penelope hugged JJ and then Will.

“You think I was going to sit at home while my wife goes to a strip club?” He chuckled. “I may never get the opportunity to have permission to do this again in my life. Thanks Spence.” 

“You’re so very welcome.” Spencer replied sarcastically. “Can we just get on with this now?” 

“That’s the spirit.” Luke chuckled, draping his arm around Spencer’s shoulders and leading him through the non-descript door.

Inside a long, narrow corridor stretched out before them, the distant thrums of bass heavy music, causing the floor to feel like it was vibrating beneath him. A burly doorman awaited them, so broad he almost encompassed the entire corridor. 

“Hey man, I have a reservation under Alvez. It's this guy's big four-oh.” Luke gripped Spencer tightly, shaking him a little. 

The doorman glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand, scanning over it for a second before looking back up at the motley crew, clearly trying to discern if he needed to card anyone but it was immediately clear he didn’t. 

“Follow me,” He motioned for them to come with him.

Luke took the lead, dragging Spencer by his hold on his shoulders. The music got louder the further down the black corridor they got. It was dark and Spencer had to squint to see the man only a few feet in front of him, the corridor only lit by a single red light bulb swinging from the low ceiling that Spencer almost had to duck to walk under. 

At the end of the corridor was another door and the music had reached fever pitch at this point. Spencer felt as though he could taste the beat, he could certainly feel it palpitating in his chest. The doorman shoved open the door and Spencer blinked against the sudden wave of lights that smacked against his retinas. 

Luke finally let go of his shoulders, the doorway too narrow for the two of them to pass through together and motioned Spencer in front of him. Spencer stepped into the room, surprised by the sudden change in flooring, casting his eyes down to see a plush burgundy carpet now under foot. He tried not to contemplate how many germs were living in that carpet, how many drinks had been spilled and soaked into it over the years, how many other fluids it might have absorbed on top of it. He was sure this place would light up like a christmas tree under a black light. 

He grimaced, looking back up and following in the doormans footsteps across the room. He tried to keep his eyes straight ahead, desperate not to look around and take in his surroundings but his morbid curiosity got the better of him. 

Admittedly if he’d imagined what the inside of a strip club would look like this would have been plucked straight from his imagination. The main lighting was low, shielding most of the seating area in an almost ominous glow. The booths were made up of plush, gold velvet sofas, large dark oak tables in the centre of them. There was a long bar on one side, made of the same oak only its surface seemed to glitter when the light hit it. Over the back were two large velveteen curtains, concealing what Spencer could only assume was the private dance areas. There were four raised platforms each with their own golden, floor to ceiling pole in the centre, blue spotlights pointed at each one. Each podium had a scantily clad young girl dancing in upon it and Spencer quickly averted his gaze again, not wanting to be seen to objectify them. 

“You know the whole reason they are there is to be looked at right?” Morgan was suddenly at his side, nudging him in the arm. 

“It feels very…voyeuristic.” Spencer swallowed.

“Have you seriously never been to a strip club, Reid?” Matt was now at his other side. 

“Why is that so hard to believe? Do I really strike you as the kind of guy who goes to strip clubs?” They arrived at the table and Morgan motioned for Spencer to take a seat while the others sat around him. 

“It’s usually the quiet ones.” Morgan smirked at him. 

“I cannot believe Savannah is ok with you being here.”

“She was fine with it when I told her it was for your birthday.” Morgan winked at him.

“Do I need to tell you what I told Luke? This is not a brothel, I am not getting laid here.” Spencer sighed in exasperation. 

“It's not too late to take you to a brothel, kid.” Rossi smirked, before excusing himself to the bar. 

“This is the lesser of the two evils, trust me.” Spencer sat back against the plush seat and tried to keep his eyes to himself. It was a difficult feat when just in front of them was another podium with a blonde woman dancing in the skimpiest pair of underwear Spencer had ever seen. 

“No deflowering of boy wonder tonight, please.” Garcia giggled.

“Deflower…you are aware I am not a virgin, right?” Spencer pulled a face, was that how people saw him? 

“I was joking, Spence, calm down.” Garcia rolled her eyes, still tittering to herself. 

“It's that kind of defensive attitude that makes people think you are.” Luke, who was sitting on his left, nudged him. 

“I’m fairly certain if I said the same to you, you would be just as defensive.” Spencer shook his head. 

Just then, Rossi returned carrying a tray of champagne flutes and setting them on the table in the centre. He was closely followed by another young woman carrying an ice bucket in each hand, each with a bottle of the club's most expensive champagne chilling inside. 

Spencer didn’t want to look, really didn’t want to be seen to objectify, but the scent of lavender perfume seemed to flood his senses, his brain, and he could no longer think straight all of a sudden. His eyes which had been attached to the floor glanced over to the pair of deep purple, satin peep toe heels which were standing right in front of him. Slowly his eyes trailed upwards, over a set of long, smooth legs, until meeting a silk pair of dangerously tiny panties, matching the shoes in colour, which he quickly scanned over. His eyes worked up the torso until they came to the chest and the purple silk bra that really left very little to the imagination. Swallowing thickly, his eyes continued their ascent to the face and that’s when time seemed to slow to a halt.

Spencer quivered, actually trembled as he took in your soft features and dazzling eyes. The smile on your lips as you looked at him seemed genuine, and not at all like it was a pain for you to be here. You set down the ice buckets and went about opening one of the bottles, pouring everyone a glass. When you poured Spencer’s glass, bending a little as you did so, his eyes couldn’t help the way they dipped to your cleavage spilling out over the top of your bra.

He quickly snapped his gaze away and thanked you with a shaky smile. He crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to hide an arising problem in his pants.

“I’m Y/N, I’ll be your host for the evening.” You had to speak loudly to be heard by everyone over the pulsing music in the club. “Which one of you is the birthday boy?”

Your eyes flicked between the men in the group, well all of them except the all guy who had paid for the drinks. You’d been informed it was a fortieth birthday, there was no way it was him. 

“This guy right here,” Morgan grinned, gripping Spencer by the shoulders. 

You looked back at the slightly shy, uptight man in his shirt and cardigan, who was holding onto his champagne flute for dear life. He was not your usual clientele, if you didn’t know any better you would think he didn’t want to be here at all. 

“Well, I guess it’s my lucky night.” You couldn’t help but wink at him and even in the low light you saw the way his cheeks instantly flushed pink. 

Usually in your line of work, exotic dancing, not stripping, thank you very much, the men you were paid to dance for were older, usually kind of creepy. Admittedly none of the younger men at the table were bad on the eyes, but this one was especially handsome, even if he was absolutely pertrided. 

“What’s your name, stud?” You placed one hand on your hip and the other you held out for him to shake. 

You saw him swallow, taking a sip of his drink as if to lubricate his mouth so he could speak. 

“S-Spencer.” He took your hand and shook it. It was warm and so much larger than your own, even if it was a little sweaty. 

“Nice to meet you, S-Spencer.” You teased, hoping to ease some tension but it seemed to have the opposite effect. 

He shrunk in on himself, grimacing a little and looking as though he would quite literally rather be anywhere else in the world. 

“You too.” His voice jumped several octaves. 

Most of the rest of the team watched in amusement at Spencer’s discomfort, all of them aside from Emily who had wandered off to watch a redhead dance, tossing dollar bills at her and Luke who although was still seated, clearly had his eyes on the blonde on the podium in front of them. 

“So, shall we get to the good stuff?” You asked him now and he almost choked on his drink. 

“G-good stuff?” His eyes widened in terror.

“Your friends here paid for you to have a private birthday dance. They didn’t tell you?” 

Spencer clenched his jaw and turned to his friends, anger leaching from his eyes.

“I would like to go on record and say I did not invest any money in this particular endeavour.” Hotch was quick to speak up.

“This is just from me and Alvez. Happy birthday, stud.” Morgan winked at him.

If Spencer was a violent man, he would have wrung Morgan’s neck, maybe bashed his and Luke’s heads together until they lost consciousness. He was fairly certain after all his years on the job he could murder them both and get away with it. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been there, standing over him and looking so goddamn delicious in his favourite colour as well, he might have given the two men an ear full. But it wasn’t the time or place and so he swallowed his anger, keeping it bottled up until later and turning back to you. 

“Let’s just…get this over with.” Spencer stood up, grabbing his glass and the full bottle of champagne, god knows he was going to need it, and following you towards one of the curtained off areas. 

You held the curtain back for him to enter first and he did so without letting himself think about what was going to happen when the two of you were alone. The private room was much the same as the main room, only smaller with no bar. There was another plush golden couch in the centre, a smaller raised platform with a pole on the far wall. The wallpaper was a deep, cherry red, swirled with black and a gold chandelier hung from the ceiling offering, once again, very little light. 

Spencer could only assume he was supposed to sit, so slightly reluctantly he dragged his pathetic ass to the couch and sat in the centre of it. He downed the remains of his champagne before swiftly uncorking the bottle. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his large, veiny hand expertly pulling the cork from the bottle, like it was the easiest thing in the world. You shuddered a little at the thought of what else his hands might be capable of. 

He discarded the glass on the floor and opted instead to drink straight from the bottle, not something Spencer would ever usually do, but this whole night was so out of the ordinary for him, he decided to just lean into it. You came and stood in front of him, hands on your hips as you looked down on him.

“Not big into sharing?” You smirked at him.

“You…I assumed because you were working…”

You chuckled, reaching out and taking the bottle from his hands and taking a hefty sip. You felt the bubbles tickle the back of your throat and branch out towards your brain.

“I can indulge a little, as long as I don’t get off my face. Besides, the alcohol helps when the customer is particularly…” you searched for the right word. “Old. Ugly. Generally gross.” 

Spencer frowned at you, processing your words. 

“I guess Alvez and Morgan didn’t spring for the package where you pretend to be nice to me.” He tried to not sound as pathetic as he felt but failed miserably.

To his surprise you giggled in response, handing him back the champagne.

“Trust me, stud, you’re one customer I don’t need to drink to have fun with.” You winked at him and heard a little whimper leave his lips. He tried to cover it up by drinking more.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against the bottle top. “Let’s just…I don’t suppose we can just sit here and pretend you gave me a lap dance?” 

“Not a chance.” You smiled, sauntering on your heels over to the stereo setup in the corner. You hit play and music pulsed into the room through the speakers situated in each corner. Spencer woefully recognised the song as 50 Cent’s Candy Shop, he’d heard Morgan listen to it on more than a few occasions over the years.

You strutted back over to him, wiggling your hips to the music as you went. Spencer tried to keep his eyes trained on the bottle as he drank, refusing to let himself look at you. You made it back over to him and once again took the bottle from his hands. You sipped from it delicately, bending over to place it on the floor, ensuring to give Spencer a show of your ass as you did so. 

A low hiss left his lips, probably at the realisation you were wearing a thong. God you were going to enjoy this. 

You stood back up and started swaying to the music, stepping between his open legs. He looked up at you through frightened doe eyes, the most beautiful shade of brown you’d ever seen. His long, messy curls fell in his face and his pouty bottom lip was too kissable for words. You shook that thought off as fast as you could.

You turned you away from him, thinking it easier if you didn’t look at his gorgeous face. You knew his eyes went straight to your bare ass, you could practically feel his gaze on you. 

“You can touch me, Spencer, just nowhere inappropriate please.” Really you wanted those hands to touch you everywhere inappropriate but that kind of behaviour was frowned upon within the walls of the club. 

“I’m…I’m good.” He croaked.

You smiled to yourself as you slowly lowered yourself into his lap, perching at first on his knees before wiggling backwards. 

Spencer gasped loudly as your ass settled into his crotch and without even looking at him you knew he would be one hundred shades of red. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time a man had gotten hard when you’d given them a lap dance and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. It may well be the first time you’d enjoyed it though. 

“Jesus Christ.” He whimpered, your back now flush with his chest, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “I am so, so sorry. This is humiliating.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” You grinded against him in time to the music. “I know I am attractive and I am also half naked. Honestly, I’d be a little offended if you weren’t excited by that.” 

“Right. Right.” Spencer nodded, wishing he could reach the champagne bottle. “So uh…how does one get into this line of work? Stripping.” 

He needed to try and take his mind off of how unfathomably good you felt rolling your ass against his dick. 

“I’m not a stripper.” You chided him, pinching his knee with your long acrylic nails as punishment. “I’m an exotic dancer. I don’t take my clothes off. Well, no more so than this.” 

He grumbled at the pain you inflicted on his leg but the pleasure more than outweighed it. 

“Apologies, I hope I wasn’t out of line.” 

“It’s ok, it’s a common misconception. And I started working here to help pay my student loans. I stayed because I love what I do.” You grinded particularly hard against him and he whimpered against your neck. 

“You went to college?” He sounded surprised. 

“Yes, I’m not some bimbo, stud.” You rolled your eyes, another common misconception.

“Sorry.” He clenched his jaw, his cock twitching dangerously in his pants. “What uh, what did you study?” 

“Psychology.”

“No kidding?” He sounded genuinely impressed. “You have a degree in psychology and you work here?” 

You suddenly turned around, kneeling over Spencer, one leg hooked over each of his thighs. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, swallowing thickly. 

“Look, you’re cute but don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of moron and try to make me feel like working here makes me less of a person.” You reached and gripped his jaw, digging your fake nails into his stubbly cheeks.

“I…I didn’t mean it like that, I-“

“I choose to work here.” You cut him off, lowering yourself so you were seated in his lap, straddling him. “I enjoy working here. It gives me a sense of power, I’m choosing to show off my body, to turn men like you into pathetic messes.” 

Spencer moaned, didn’t even try to disguise it. You let go of his face and went to stand up but Spencer surprised you when his hands flew to your hips, gripping you firmly and keeping you in place. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He spoke, for the first time sounding close to confident. “You’re stunning and clearly good at your job.” He nodded down to his crotch and how he was straining against his slacks. “I didn’t mean to sound patronising or anything like that. I was merely trying to make conversation and I’m sorry if I upset you. But quite frankly, Y/N, if I don’t keeping talking I’m going to do something really fucking stupid.” 

You narrowed your eyes on him, stilling your movements as the music came to end. He kept his grip on your hips and you found yourself a little dizzy by the firmness in which he held you. 

“Stupid like what?” Your chest heaved with heavy breaths and Spencer’s eyes briefly flicked down and he hissed again at the sight. 

“Something that could probably get you fired, and neither of us wants that.” He grinded up against you this time and a soft moan left your lips. 

“Jesus,” you whined, the tables well and truly turned. “Can you just…I don’t know…give me a clue?” 

Spencer chuckled a little, moving one hand from your hip to the back of your neck and tugging you closer to him. His lips were close to your ear, ghosting over the skin. It was like a switch had been flipped, the shy and awkward guy who hadn’t even wanted a lap dance was gone, replaced by this confident and self-assured man now beneath you. 

His breath fanned across the side of your face and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Let’s just say it would involve both of us wearing a lot less clothes and you screaming my name.” 

You whimpered like a dog that had just been kicked and attempted to clamp your legs together but his were in the way. Suddenly he dropped both of his hands to his sides and looked at you darkly. 

“Get up.” He commanded you and you were dumb to do anything by comply. 

“I need to go.” He stood up, snatching up the bottle of champagne. “Thanks for that.” 

You watched him scurry away, seemingly reverting back to the shy creature he’d been initially. He fled back through the curtain, leaving you with an intense heat between your legs. 

Goddamnit, you swallowed, trying to compose yourself. I might have just found my kryptonite. 

***

Two weeks passed and Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every time he closed his eyes he saw you sitting in his lap, that goddamn purple lingerie glowing against your skin. It never failed to make him painfully hard in a matter of seconds and he’d spent more time than he could count masturbating over thoughts of you the last two weeks.

Eventually he couldn’t keep himself away if he tried. Emily had given them the weekend off and sitting alone in his apartment on Saturday night, his limbs had moved without the forethought to do so. And of course he’d ended up outside Blue Siren. 

He paid the cover charge and saw himself inside, ambling over to the bar and ordering himself a scotch. He watched the room, in a way he was trained to do, watching and waiting for a glimpse of you. 

He’d gotten down three drinks before finally he saw you across the room. His cock twitched almost instantly. Today you wore a crimson red lace teddy with shoes to match. He preferred the purple, liked it when you had more skin on display, but you still looked like a fallen fucking angel. An incredibly sexy fallen angel. 

He finished the remains of his drink and set the glass down on the bar before heading your way. 

As soon as you saw him, you couldn’t help the way your whole face lit up. He looked much the same as he had last time in his smart shirt and slacks but today he’d bypassed the cardigan and had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“Stud, you came back.” You smirked at him, placing one hand on your hip. 

“Can we talk?” 

“I’m on the clock.” You shrugged. “My time has to be paid for.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and fished his wallet out of his pocket, flashing a large wad of bills. He pulled one out and stuffed it in your hand.

“How much will a hundred get me?” 

You looked down at the bill wide eyed, seeing it was actually a hundred dollars. You looked back at him with a smile.

“At least a few dances.” You turned on your heels and motioned for him to follow you towards the private room you’d occupied a few weeks ago. 

Once inside you watched him get comfortable on the couch.

“You sure you just want to talk? I can dance and talk at the same time, I’m just that good.” You winked at him.

“N-no.” He shook his head. “No dancing, please?”

“Fine.” You chuckled, coming over and sitting next to him on the couch. “What’s up? Must be important if you’re willing to drop a C-Note on me.” 

“I uh, I wanted to apologise for my conduct the other week. It was very unlike me and I wanted you to know I’m sorry.” His cheeks flushed.

“Hmm.” You mused. “See, I don’t think it was unlike you. I think you allowed yourself to be completely authentic in that moment, letting out a side of yourself you don’t normally let people see.” 

“That psych degree is paying off, I see.” His lip twitched into a small smirk.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” 

“People see me a certain way.” He sighed a little as he spoke. “I’m the smart one, the bookish, awkward one. I’ve been seen that way for as long as I can remember. I guess I grew out of it but no one around me sees that. So maybe I play up the persona a little because it's what’s expected of me.” He confessed, not sure why he was doing so but you oddly put him at ease.

“Yeah, I get that. Sometimes it's easier to play into the expected, to fall into the roles people assign us rather than forge our own identity. You know, I only got my degree to prove I could. I wanted to prove, even if only to myself, that there was more to me than people expected of me. One day I might do something with it but for now, I really do love my job. But now I know I could do something else if I chose to.” You were equally surprised by your honesty. 

“My friends brought me here because they think I’m some kind of pathetic sad sack that can’t get laid.” He chuckled wistfully. 

“Oh but I bet you have no problem in that department, from what I could tell.” Maybe you leant closer to him, you certainly didn’t mean to, but you were sure he was closer now.

“I do alright.” The glint in his eyes told you he did better than alright and why did that cause a rumble of jealousy in your chest? 

This time it was him that leaned closer to you, his large hand finding your thigh. You felt your chest tighten at the way it felt.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.” You spoke but you didn’t particularly believe your own voice. 

“Not here, certainly not.” He inched his hand higher and you didn’t stop him.

“Not here, not anywhere.” 

“Tell yourself that all you want, princess.” He growled the last word, eliciting a whimper from your lips. 

“I don’t sleep with customers. Full stop.” 

“You sleep with me, I promise I will never come back here.” He dared edge his hand higher, now right at the top of your thigh.

“You should leave.” You said, but you didn’t move or push him away. 

“I just paid you a hundred dollars, I’m not going anywhere.” He squeezed your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

“Maybe I did prefer it when you were shy.”

“No you didn’t.” He smiled in a knowing way. And he was right. “Let me take you out, show you what I’m really like.” 

You swallowed, god how you would love that. But no. You couldn’t succumb. 

“Not gonna happen.” You took hold of his hand and forcibly removed it from your thigh. You removed the bill he’d given you from where you’d tucked it in the side of your panties and tossed it at him. “Keep your money. Leave before I call security.” 

Spencer chuckled to himself, shaking his head and placing the note on the couch, leaving it there as he stood up. 

“I’m not a threat, you don’t need to call security.” He held his hands up in defeat. “I think you know as well as I do that there's something between us, I just don’t know why you won’t admit to it. But whatever, I’ll go.” 

He went to move past you but as he did, his fingers circled your wrist. He turned your hand over and forcibly put his business card in your open hand. 

“In case you change your mind, princess.” With that he was gone, leaving your legs shaking in his wake. 

You looked down at the card in your hand and frowned to yourself as you read the words adorned on it. 

Doctor Spencer Reid. FBI. 

Huh. That was an interesting turn of events. 

***

Spencer didn’t return to the club again, respecting your boundaries and just holding onto a small glimmer of hope that you would call. But weeks passed and you never did. 

In all honesty, he wasn’t that surprised. He expected you’d tossed the card the minute he’d walked through that curtain and never given him a second thought. 

He didn’t often allow himself to get close to people for this very reason. When Spencer fell for someone it happened fast and hard and now you were the only thing he could think of and it was tearing him in two. 

It was Morgan and Luke’s fault. Them and their dumb idea to take him to a strip club for his birthday. He decided his next birthday was cancelled, the one after that too. Screw it, all his birthdays were cancelled indefinitely. 

Thankfully due to the BAU’s heavy caseload and him teaching classes at Marlborough University, he didn’t have a whole lot of time to dwell on you, which was for the best. 

He’d just have to resign himself to being alone again. Just like always. 

***

For weeks that card felt like it was burning a hole in your pocket. You didn’t intend on calling Spencer, but you just couldn’t get rid of it. There was something different about him, something that begged you to get to know him. But you had to resist temptation, it would only end badly like it always did. 

Still, you couldn’t help but picture his face when you gave an old, sad man a lap dance, wishing it were him instead. It never failed to send chills down your spine when you thought of the way his persona had flipped from shy and slightly nerdy, to suddenly so self assured. 

But you had to stop thinking about him. Thinking about him was fruitless. But of course you couldn’t, because like it or not, you were going to see him again. 

You’d almost considered pulling out of the class, as soon as you’d seen his name on the business card you knew it would be a bad idea to go through with it. But you’d been excited about this for months and you really didn’t want to wait another semester to take it. You just had to hope you could get through it without incident, however unlikely that seemed. 

“Ok, let's take a moment now to discuss the difference between a trigger and a stressor. A trigger is a sensory event experienced by an offender that precipitates subsequent behaviour whereas a stressor is a longer term pattern of behaviour or circumstances which push a person into behaving differently than they normally would. You might want to write this down. I probably shouldn’t be telling you guys this but I’m definitely putting this on the final.”

You watched the brunette a few rows in front of you coyly tell Professor Reid she was simply auditing the class. You couldn’t help but smirk when an array of other beautiful girls raised their hands when he asked who else was auditing. He was the youngest, best looking professor on campus, it was no surprise his class had drawn in a crowd of young girls to fawn over him. 

“Uh…ok.” He shook his head, checking his watch. “Unfortunately that is all the time we have for today. Thank you guys.”

You stayed seated while the rest of the class filtered out, watching him collect a stack of papers and put them in his worn satchel before turning to erase the writing on the whiteboard. You stuffed your laptop away and crept down the stairs towards the front of the class, fingers toying with the small white piece of card.

“What was your stressor, Professor? Or should I say, Doctor?” 

You saw his back go rigid and for a moment or two he didn't move a muscle. He set the whiteboard eraser down and slowly turned around as you waved his business card at him. He couldn’t help the way his eyes raked up and down your body, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, more than he was used to seeing on you. He still thought you looked like a goddamn angel.

“Uh, I’m sorry, what?” He frowned, clearly at a loss for words. 

“You said a stressor is a longer term pattern of behaviour or circumstances which push a person into behaving differently than they normally would. When I first met you, you behaved differently than you normally would, am I right? Pretending to be this shy, awkward little thing.” You quipped your eyebrow at him.

“For the record I wasn’t pretending. It wasn’t some kind of ruse or something. I am generally shy and awkward. But I have learnt to assert myself when I need to, for instance, when I see something I want. I got carried away that night at the club and I’m sorry for that, that was out of character for me.” He leant back against the edge of the desk and perched on it. “Why are you in my class, Y/N?”

“I signed up for this class before I met you. I didn’t even know you were the professor until you gave me your card.” You shrugged a little nervously. 

You were more uncomfortable in normal social settings. At the Blue Siren, where you commanded the room, the confidence oozed for you. But in the real world you were much uncomfortable in your own skin. 

“You want to be a profiler?” He scrutinised you with his gaze.

“Maybe someday. I told you, I don’t necessarily want to work at the club forever, I want options.”

“But you love your job.” He repeated what you’d told him.

“I do.” You nodded. “If this is going to be weird I can drop out. I can go to Georgetown next semester, although their professor is not a legit FBI agent with the BAU.” You chuckled a little.

“Why would it be weird?” 

“Because,” you shrugged. “Since the second you turned around and saw me standing here, you’ve been undressing me with your eyes.” 

Spencer smiled, a hint of a blush gracing his cheeks.

“I have, it's true.” He agreed. “I can’t help it if I’ve already seen so much of it.” 

“I don’t think you should want to sleep with your students.” 

“There’s no rule against it.” He chuckled, pushing himself back to his feet. “My students are all over the legal age, if I was to sleep with one of them, it would be completely consensual and no rules would be broken.”

“You’re talking from experience.” You stated and his eyes playfully glistened.

“Maybe.” He shrugged but his face said it all. “I told you, I do alright.” 

“Well, I can tell you for a fact I won’t be one of them.” 

“And that’s your loss.” He turned his back on you now and started gathering up his things, slinging his satchel over his head. “Excuse me, I have papers to grade.” 

You watched him saunter away, leaving you standing there in confusion and a little turned on if you were honest. He shoved open the door and exited the classroom and before you could think it through you were following hot on his heels. You caught up to him in the corridor as he was unlocking his office door. He spotted you in his peripheral vision.

“My office hours are on Wednesday.” He pushed open the door. “If you need something you can come…”

He trailed off when you pushed past him, entering his office ahead of him. He frowned and followed you inside, closing and locking the door behind him. 

“What?” He sighed, taking off his bag and dropping it in the chair next to the door. “You asked me to leave the club that night and I did. I gave you my number, I left the ball in your court and you didn’t call and that’s fine. I walked away! So why are you pursuing me?” 

“I won’t give it up.” You blurted out, causing a heavy frown to form on Spencer’s face.

“Give up what?” Had he missed a part of the conversation?

“The club, I love my job.”

“I know you do.” His frown deepened. “Why would you have to give it up?”

“Do you know how many men I meet that think I’m some kind of damsel in distress that needs saving? They swoop in, on their fucking white horse and think they can rescue the poor, broken stripper.”

“Exotic dancer.” Spencer corrected you with a smirk. You huffed somewhat childishly. 

“Whatever. They think they can change me. Men always think I’m some kind of fucking damsel in distress that needs saving from the big bad world of strip…exotic dancing. That’s why I don’t date customers, not because it's not allowed. I’ve made the mistake before and it always ends the same. So stop looking at me like you want to fuck me, because its never going to happen!” 

Spencer simply looked at you curiously while you ranted, voice getting louder with each syllable. Confusingly he was smiling when you finished.

“Can I speak now?” He had a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“If you have to.” You rolled your eyes. 

Spencer took a few steps away from the door and you felt yourself growing weaker the closer he got to you. He was magnetic, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m certain I never once said that I have any kind of issue with your profession and I certainly never asked you to quit. Am I right?” 

“Y-yes.” You swallowed, catching the scent of his cologne. 

“If you’ve found something you love I would never dream of keeping you from that. Honestly, I admire you. It takes a lot of bravery and a lot of confidence to do what you do and god…you do it so well. Why would I ever want to take that from you?” He was so close now and you were begging him to touch you even though it was a bad idea.

“I…I don’t know.” 

“Yes, princess, you do.” He smirked. “You made an assumption about me, the same way I admittedly did when I first met you. But I was wrong and I acknowledged that. It’s only fair for you to do the same.” 

He raised his hand and your legs shook before he even touched you, at the sheer anticipation of it. It came up to cup your jaw, firmly enough that you could feel his fingers squeezing your jawbone. 

“Y-you don’t want to change me?” You whimpered.

“Why mess with perfection?” He bowed his head, his lips so close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off of them. “I’m no knight in shining armour, Y/N, I’m not rushing in to try and save you. And you are most certainly not a damsel in distress. You are a strong, independent woman and I would be lucky to merely exist in your orbit.” 

You mewled, trying to move closer to him, to crash your lips against his but he held you firmly in place, chuckling at your eagerness. For the first time in a long time you felt all your bravado melt away, all the confidence you had on stage at the Blue Siren was washed away, leaving you a trembling mess in front of this man. And normally that kind of vulnerability would cause you to run for the hills. But being vulnerable with Spencer didn’t seem all that bad.

“Can you,” you swallowed, eyes glued on those pouty lips of his. “Please…just kiss me already, stud.” 

Spencer laughed and for a moment you thought he might not comply. But then he closed the small space between you and you finally got to feel those pillowy lips pressing against yours. He gripped the back of your neck firmly, keeping you in place, as if you would go anywhere. 

Maybe one day Spencer would thank Morgan and Luke for the birthday present, this was one he’d surely cherish, as long as you would let him. 

Oh, isn't this exactly where you'd like me?

I'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.

Praying for love and a lap dance,

Taglist -

All

@muffin-cup @andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @dirtytissuebox @ssa-uglywhore27 @smurphyse @reidselle @reidsbookclub

SR x reader

@dreatine @dr-spencerr-reidd @spenxerslut @drayshadow @rainsong01 @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @spencer-reid-wonderland @im-totally-not-dezi @hotchandspencearedilfs

[stomach-bugg09]

hihi! first time requesting ever but I just love your blog its too good xD maybe a fluffy imagine of when the tulkuns return and y/n and fali meeting his spirit brother and its just super cute and fluffy <333 I love this whole thing so much ahhhh

summary: in honor of the tulkuns and their return, [y/n] is introduced into the beautiful world of these creatures—as well as the festivities that follow!

a/n: i finally got this done !! it took forever to write this because i kept rewriting and rewriting — it’s still not my favorite piece of work , but i really wanted to get something published. hope you guys enjoy. feedback + reblogs are always appreciated !!

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @hjkshshjkhklhkl @itssiaaax @grierpilots @fleurbeass

warnings: underage ( ? ) drinking , drunk [y/n] and fali , pda , parents making fun of their children , that’s kind of it i think

words: 1.5k

welcome, brother

it was a time for stories after a season apart.

[y/n] watched in complete awe from where she waded above fali and his spirit brother. the scene was bustling with joy, with beauty. nearly every metkayina had a spirit sister or spirit brother of their own, their na’vi hands moving with grace through the thick waters to communicate with the gorgeous tulkuns. the sounds of the creatures reverberated through the water, a beautiful song ringing in [y/n]’s ears.

deaths.

some looked somber. [y/n]’s eyes caught sight of a na’vi that rested his forehead against the side of his spirit brother, a low hum vibrating through the duo. as if, even in the darkest times, there was still comfort in the relationship that they held between them.

births.

some were exuberant. a smile burst onto her lips at the image of an infant taking her first sights at her mother’s spirit sister, bobbing up and down in the water as she took deep breaths of the surface’s oxygen.

old friends.

her eyes traveled to where tsireya swam with her spirit sister, choking back a laugh at the backflip she did when retelling a very exciting story.

new loves.

but, of course, even when there was so much to watch, [y/n]’s sight would always return to the na’vi that floated beneath her.

fali spoke to his spirit brother, epayno, with an exhilarated smile that did not leave his face once. oh, how his childlike wonder made [y/n] melt.

what she did not expect, however, was when he suddenly looked upwards and caught her eyes. his arm raised, gesturing to her to swim down to him. he must have seen the way that her eyes widened for a blip of bubbles left his mouth.

“please, you must meet my spirit brother,” he told her, once again beckoning her to come to them.

she gave him a look before shakily signing, “i do not want to embarrass myself in front of your brother.” she winced as a laugh-like sound echoed from epayno’s body.

fali only sent the tulkun a look before turning back to her. “he wants to meet you. i promise, he will love you. i cannot say that same vice versa.” he smiled at epayno’s offended noise. “i only tease.”

with a nervous shake of her hands, [y/n] pointed her face downward. she began to kick her feet, arms wading their way through the water as she swam towards epayno and fali. once she finally reached the side of her love, a blush errupted onto her face as he grabbed her hand.

with his free hand, he signed, “i introduce you to epayno, and epayno meet ma [y/n]. my yawne.” and there she went again—melting at his mere words!

the creature rumbled, although he sounded very amused. after he was clearly finished speaking, fali turned to [y/n] and translated for her. “he says that you’re very beautiful. and that we look happy together. that is all.”

another wave of sound, this time with an undertone of disagreement.

“yes, that is all he said. nothing more than that!” he side eyed epayno. “because he would never dare say anything inappropriate or violating at all.”

[y/n] suppressed a laugh, although it was difficult. “something tells me that he is more than willing to expose and embarrass you.” she turned to epayno, a smile on her face. “i must learn to understand you soon. i must learn of all embarrassing fali moments!”

a click-like sound vibrated through her ears, although she understood it as more of a chuckle. she sent a teasing wink towards the tulkun at that.

“i told you! of course he would like you.” fali rolled his eyes. “and of course you would make it the bane of my existence.”

“what else would i do but make your life more difficult?”

he smiled, biting his bottom lip to fight back a grin. “maybe give me a kiss?”

she swam closer, grabbing his wrist to pull him onto the flipper that epayno was offering. once they were seated, hands running over the textured skin of the tulkun, he swam upwards and lifted them above the surface.

she grabbed his neck, pulling him into her. “i suppose that can be arranged.”

never did [y/n] expect the night to hold even more pleasantries than the day they just had.

music vibrated through the ground, drums and a melodious tune flowing freely in the veins of every na’vi that danced to the rhythm. a smile overtook [y/n]’s face, her eyes squinted because of the lower half of her face scrunching up into a joyous expression. her jaw was dropped open as she inhaled and exhaled, deeply taking in oxygen to try and regain composure within her lungs as her body moved with each beat of the drum.

beside her danced fali. his face was lit with joy, eyes stuck on [y/n]’s beautiful figure that swayed to and fro. paint swirled over her body, each color highlighting a different one of her features.

the na’vi danced on the beach, waves crashing onto their ankles as they swerved gracefully. their toes sunk into the wet sand, the salty water constantly returning to wash them off.

in the distance, the tulkun sang with the music, their own dance moves causing young children to gasp in astonishment.

“oh, this is wonderful!” [y/n] cried, feet stomping as the shells that were tied around her feet shook against the impact. “almost as good as parties back home.”

“almost?” fali raised his eyebrow muscles at that, his hand grabbing her as he pulled her into a twirl.

she only smirked. “well, i mean, there could be more drinks. less children. you know, that kind of stuff.”

“oh, just wait until the sun goes down!” he teased, hands wrapping around the middle part of her waist to lift her in the air.

she screamed a laugh, hands going straight to his forearms as if she was in imminent danger. “put me down,” [y/n] cried joyfully, tears pricking her eyes due to her uncontrollable laughter.

for once in their time together, the other na’vi paid no attention to the couple. their loud exclamations of happiness were drowned out by the combination of wind, water, dancing, and music. finally, after months of adapting to the metkayina ways, [y/n] and fali were able to dance the night away. together. and not one na’vi bat an eye.

hours passed, but they didn’t stop. soon, they were dancing into the next morning. sure, their feet were sore, their throats hurt, their heads were clouded by alcohol, but they did not care. they could not care.

around them flashed other young na’vi who still raged the dance floor. children were fast asleep back in their maruis, young parents having the burden to care for them, and the older warriors were far too aged to continue dancing for as long as fali, [y/n], and the others had.

occasionally, [y/n] would catch a glimpse of her siblings, although once they spilled into the next morning, kiri and tuk seemed to have disappeared. soon enough, neteyam followed after them, lo’ak eventually being forced to leave tsireya when neytiri ordered him to go home.

the sully parents sat to the side with toniwari, ronal, and both of fali’s parents. they were chatting up a storm, the omaticayans learning everything they could. neytiri was utterly infatuated with the beauty of this cultural aspect. she couldn’t help but try and learn from it.

jake was all too amused with the young adults that stumbled in front of them, their movements drunk and sloppy after a night full of dancing, singing, and drinking.

the amusement faltered the slightest bit when he caught sights of his daughter tripping over her own feet, fali attempting to keep her upright although it was doing more harm than help because he, too, had quite a bit to drink.

jake bit back a laugh when neytiri grabbed his arm, her free hand going to cover her mouth in astonishment. “oh, dear.”

neytiri slammed her forehead into her mate’s bicep when her daughter fell straight into the sand. “oh my eywa.”

the parents of fali were losing their minds as they watched their son attempt to help his love up onto her feet, unfortunately causing him to fall into his knees beside her.

simply put? the adults were howling with laughter.

it took quite a bit of time, but eventually the pair was back on their feet, continuing to try and make progress so they could leave the area that was determined as the “dance floor.” they didn’t even notice their parents.

instead, they were too wrapped up with every other bright flashing color that surrounded them.

while [y/n] was quick to make the smallest, most straight-forward comments to every na’vi that they passed, fali could not get enough of the sully girl. he kept grabbing her hands, pressing kisses against her temples and trying to tempt her to dance with him again. she was far too busy complimenting some metkayina on her jewelry to even fall for it.

and yet, somehow, even when shitfaced and quite out of it, they still managed to be an adorable and compatible couple, something that all the passerbyers idealized, even if some of them judged fali for even going for an outsider.

outsider or not, she was made for him, and he was made for her. and it was beautiful.

[brokemanthrash]

Ryomina request! What would you do if I said Ryoji finds Makoto's stuffies? (Jack Frost or something a bit more personal like a gift or maybe he collects a specific animal?) (Or do whatever you want it's your writing lol)

Anyone else would have found it inappropriate to be in somebody else's room while they were absent. Intruding on someone's space without explicit permission was generally frowned upon by society. Ryoji was entirely unaware-- and even if he had been aware, there was a good chance he would have disregarded the rule. He practically lived in Makoto's room, and although it was rare for Makoto not to be there with him, it was not something either of them would have considered unusual. He had invited himself in, expecting to find Makoto slouching across his desk, squinting at a textbook-- or laying atop the covers on his bed, with his eyes on the ceiling.

But he wasn't there. Which, really, Ryoji did not find strange in the slightest. He did feel a little pang of disappointment, but it was hardly enough to dampen his spirits. Eventually, Makoto would return, and when he did, they'd have the rest of the night together. In the meantime, Ryoji decided a shower was in order.

He skulked his way over to the closet, where a good portion of his own wardrobe had made itself at home among Makoto's clothing. When he slid the door open, however, he paused, his eyes lifting to the top shelf where he saw an unfamiliar, round little face smiling down at him. His eyes widened slightly as he reached for the doll, delight brightening his features as he squished its cheeks between his palms.

~

Makoto stared at Ryoji in disbelief as the door clicked shut behind him. Blue eyes stared at him from across the room, peeking out at him from under the sheets the way a crocodile's eyes peered over the surface of a body of water. Even from this distance, he could tell there was a cheeky smile hidden beneath the blankets, his eyes squinting playfully at the corners. Makoto arched an eyebrow at him, unimpressed as he made his way over to the closet.

"I can see you, you know," he teased, and Ryoji scoffed in response.

"I'm not hiding!"

"What are you doing then?" Makoto turned to watch him again as he began to undress, not at all concerned with modesty. His button down was discarded in favor of an oversized tee, his slacks quickly replaced by loose sweatpants.

"I was just waiting for you to come back," Ryoji answered innocently. "It was chilly with damp hair."

Makoto hummed his response, still a little skeptical. Nonetheless, he rolled his shoulders as he made his way over to the bed, peeling back one corner of the blanket so he could slide in.

He froze when his eyes landed on a familiar-looking plush doll, round and soft. A wide, jack-o'-lantern smile with black, beady eyes stared up at him from under a jester's hat, and Ryoji held one of its little round hands between his fingers. He smiled brightly as he made the little creature wave at Makoto, blue eyes glinting with mischief.

"He-ho~!"

".... Where did you find that?"

"In the closet!" Ryoji beamed, pushing himself to sit up a little. "I couldn't resist him. He was much too cute."

Makoto's expression was stuck somewhere between perplexed, annoyed, and endeared. He snorted as he finally swooped down to crawl into the bed, huffing when Ryoji pressed the little Jack Frost doll close to him. He instinctively lifted his arms to wrap around it, pouting slightly into the squishy, soft material.

"You know, you don't have to hide these," Ryoji said, propping his chin up in one palm. "It's okay to like cute things."

"I know that," Makoto mumbled into the side of the doll's head, glaring daggers at him.

"Ah-- Well-- I just meant..."

Makoto lifted his head, reaching out to pinch Ryoji's cheek with a sharp smile. He shimmied himself a little closer to him, until Jack Frost's head was sandwiched pathetically between them both, and his own head was resting on Ryoji's pillow.

"It's rude to go through people's things," he said, although there was no bite behind it. "Don't do that to anyone else. Okay?"

Ryoji blinked, leaning in a little closer-- as if he could see the glimmer of mischief disguised by the glare Makoto wore.

"S-Sorry," he uttered. "I won't go through your things again."

"Mm? My things? I don't care about you going through my things." Makoto shrugged, leaning his head back so that their noses brushed, an easy smile painting itself across his features. "Just don't do it to anyone else. They might not be as understanding."

Ryoji blinked, eyes widening in mild surprise. The smile that followed was bright, and he leaned in close, arms darting out to wrap tightly around Makoto's waist.

Makoto felt his heart skip a beat, his lips parting, his stomach twisting into knots. Blue eyes stared down into his own, adoration reflecting in the depths of a sapphire gaze. Ryoji's mouth lingered just a breath away from his own, and he was certain he could feel himself inching slowly closer to the grave.

"I understa-- MMPH--!"

Makoto abruptly shoved the doll up against Ryoji's face, looking away from him as the heat steadily crept its way up the back of his neck. He laughed airily as Ryoji's fingers curled urgently against the small of his back, stifling a snort.

"He-ho~!"

[hanzajesthanza]

everyone wants a relationship like yennefer and geralt, until you have to deal with the aftermath of your feral husband adventuring downstream and into the woods to avoid social obligations, chasing the local wildlife, and drinking river water

(i need suggestions on where to hide his swords, he has lost his blade privileges)

i don't suppose geralt travelled too far from yennefer's lap (or you know what else, lol - meaning, where the baby dragon stuck his head) when he was staying with her in vengerberg. she probably wouldn't let him in the house until he hosed down and agreed to eat all his meals with a fork and knife.

that is, until he caught the detrimental side of his mommy issues, and walked out on her

swords... they could go wherever they go... into a pocket dimension, maybe. but it's ineffective to take them from him, because he devolves into an anxious mess without: "i feel like a snail without its shell." (though that saying is strange. snails die if they are separated from their shells. well, maybe it's accurate in this case. what is a witcher without his swords? more often than not, a dead one).

ideally, he wouldn't need them.

i imagine geralt rising from his seat, upon hearing with his sharp ear yennefer from downstairs, in tense conversation with a husband of one of her clients, who is in the middle of hurling a tirade of abuse her way. geralt laces his bruising spiked gloves on, takes his sword, ties his headband, smiles nastily thinking he looks quite frightful, approaches the door, "i'll teach him a lesson."

by the time he reaches the stairs, a crack of electricity severs the air, emitting the scent of ozone. the satisfied-customer's dissatisfied-husband is already cowering, yammering an apology to the dignified, well-learned lady yennefer.

the witcher stands on the stairs. unties his hair, slowly walks back up to the bedroom... perhaps it's inappropriate to quote fringilla vigo here, as i'm talking about yennefer and geralt, but: "what are you trying to prove? your masculinity? i know better ways."

other thoughts on geralt's lifestyle shacked up in yennefer's house:

i have a headcanon that yennefer, finally speaking on geralt watching brush her hair with adoration, decides to comment (going something like this):

'What are you waiting for? Counting how many times I curse upon discovering split ends? Is my nightly routine really so special to you?' 'It is.' 'Is it? You're not a child. You know what a brush is. You even run one through your own hair. On occasion.' 'On occasion.'

it's her way of doing it which intrigues him. its her hands, her particularity, a foible of hers... wordlessly, she rises from the dressing table and sits on the bed, curling her bare legs in-between the eiderdown, resting her hands on his shoulders and beginning to brush his hair, gently, softly, caressing him...

i think that, (though i'm not at all saying that you were saying this, i'm just getting off-topic and commenting about a take ive seen floating around), the idea that yennefer "civilized" geralt and "taught him how to behave" is a slight misinterpretation, there's an emotional note to it. after all, geralt was not brutish before he lived with her, he dined with a queen, for god's sake. he was familiar with social rules, but just used to no one expecting them of him, caring if he smelled like his horse, because no one cared if he rode through the night, was cold, suffered. he never lived in a house, because he never was invited into one.

yennefer wished for domesticity of him, a home life. that was what she gave him, "more than she gave to any man" (bounds of reason). she gave that to him... out of love. that which he tired of, and hurt her in rejecting, then regretted it and came to wish for the same thing.

she showed him gentleness. like he showed her gentleness:

"... although neither quite knew what caring and tenderness were, they succeeded because they very much wanted to."

[denkidere]

tempest in a teacup

nanami x reader

2.6k words

semi-public sex, coworkers, slight age difference, cheating, ino x reader mentioned

you would never consider sleeping with your coworker. if only you weren't so easily swayed.

nanami was nothing short of a perfect coworker. although he was a bit older than you, you found no shortage of things to talk about together, and the two of you got along exceptionally well. before long, you found him making excuses to drop by your desk, filling up a mug for you when he made himself coffee, defending you in meetings when a superior dared to undermine your suggestions, staying late at the office with you to help finish extra work. half of your coworkers would have been playing matchmaker between the two of you, if not for strict company policy forbidding inappropriate relationships between employees-- and your boyfriend.

there was nothing wrong with him, really. you were perfectly happy in your relationship. but you couldn't deny the way something in your stirred when nanami's hand rested briefly on your shoulder, steadying himself as he leaned over you to set down a steaming mug of coffee. you couldn't help but mentally replay the way his eyes scanned your face when it was just the two of you crammed into your cubicle, filling in spreadsheets and sifting through files after hours, the lighting dimmed. you felt guilty, and you were sure he did, too; you could see it in the look that flashed across his face the first time you mentioned ino to him in passing. despite his feelings, he kept up his behavior, hiding his affection under a layer of plausible deniability. if it bothered you, you would say something, right? that's what you both told yourselves.

it was hard to recall when exactly things had escalated. it had maybe been the night you two went out drinking after work (alone, of course) and he had driven you home, pitifully drunk, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you stumble up to your apartment. he had been so hesitant to let go, even when your boyfriend unlocked the door from inside, worried sick, finally able to shake hands with nanami from work who he had heard so much about. you had shot down ino's suspicious comments about your relationship with nanami, but they rung in your mind endlessly. if it wasn't that, perhaps it was the pastries he brought you on your birthday that he refused to let you share, ensuring that nobody but you would see the note he had slid under a danish, simply wishing 'his sweetest coworker' a happy birthday. ino's fit over such a subtly intimate note would have been catastrophic, but you knew well enough to hide it, swallowing the guilt you felt. truly, you never wanted to hurt him. you didn't know it had gotten out of control until it was far too late, nanami leaning over you at your desk with coffee like always (when had it become every day?), now sneakily pressing a kiss into your neck, persuading you to stay late more and more-- "if we work ahead tonight, we can both leave early tomorrow, you know. wouldn't your boyfriend be happy to see you home before five?"-- and you falling for his tricks every time, as if you had ever considered saying no.

the silence in the building when everyone but the two of you had left was almost disturbing; it was second nature to tune out the clacking of keyboards and mechanical shuffles of printing documents after only a few months of office work, but its absence at the end of the day was horrifically pronounced. it amplified every fidget of fabric, the sound of nanami loosening his tie, popping open a button or two on his shirt just to gauge your reaction, the groan of your chair on the outdated carpet as you inched your chair closer to his.

"our entire department thinks we're sleeping together," you murmur, desperately trying to keep your eyes on his face instead of his collarbones. "i'm not sure if we should keep staying so late together like this."

"is that so?" he asked, sounding bored. "if it bothers you, i suppose i can stop staying with you. i just hate to leave you all alone here." you scoffed.

"it only bothers me that you're so unfazed by rumors of sleeping with a girl who's in a relationship. you don't exactly try and avoid fueling the gossip, either." out of everything, why were those the words to make him smile?

"ask me to stop, then," he said, looking almost shy. "we wouldn't look nearly as guilty if you didn't spur me on." you opened your mouth to argue, but you knew you had no response. "it might help the gossip if you hung up a picture or two of you with your boyfriend. does anyone but me even know about him?" you chewed at your lip. god, he was almost being mean.

"okay, you got me," you sighed. "i just don't like being talked about like that by half the office. i'm sure you understand." he nodded solemnly, his smug smile fading.

"i  certainly understand, but i can't say i hate the sound of it." you almost wanted to turn back to your spreadsheet. you wanted to remind him that he knew you weren't available, to scold yourself for even feeding into whatever he was trying to accomplish with you, but the words couldn't leave your mouth.

"what are you suggesting?" he placed a hand on your thigh, large and warm. naturally, you made no move to stop him.

"you're so beautiful. does he tell you that?" he asked, voice low, his hand climbing your leg. you swallowed, nodding weakly.

"yes, of course he does." he hummed, his other hand delicately holding your face.

"do you intend to marry him?" his face was so close to yours, his expression serious.

"i don't know, maybe," you mumbled, blinking slowly.

"you're too young to be tied down like that," he said softly, his voice tinged with approval at your reluctance. "don't you want to explore your options?" you gasped softly at the feeling of his thumb tracing the inner seam of your slacks, moving slowly inwards.

"isn't 'exploring your options' reserved for people who aren't in relationships?" you cursed the tremble in your voice and the aching between your legs.

"that may be so," he murmured, glancing down at the twitching muscles in your thigh. "but you're not exactly acting like someone who's in a relationship." all you could do was pout helplessly, allowing him to part your legs, leaning in impossibly further to kiss at your neck. "you seem quite excited," he teased. you felt his lips curl into a smile as he gingerly rubbed at the damp spot forming in your pants. you bit your lip again to hold back a whine.

"can you remind me what your boyfriend's name is?" he was still teasing you with a finger, his kisses on your neck getting sloppier. if your head didn't feel so fuzzy, you would've asked what the hell he was talking about.

"ino," you gritted out, your hands clutching at the armrests of your chair as he added more pressure to his slow touches. "you should know that."

"is that the name you say when he's fucking you?" your breath hitched, he sped up, you nodded, unable to speak around the moan you were biting back.

"ah, i see." he had paused his kisses, pulling away from your neck to look at you, flushed and disheveled. "what do you say when you're touching yourself?" you closed your eyes, unable to look back at him. this was nanami, your stoic coworker, the man who wordlessly fixed your paperjams, who walked you to your car, wrapped in his coat, on winter nights when it got dark early. you had never seen him as anything but respectful. it was both a reward and a punishment to hear him so smug and vulgar.

"n-nanami," you whimpered, defeated. you had meant to say his name, yes, but as a warning. you couldn't admit to yourself how well it also served as an answer. the look on his face was intoxicating.

"if you want me to stop, stop me now," he whispered, his hand slowing to a pause. "i'm being terribly unprofessional, but i don't think i have it in me to stop myself anymore." you could not sleep with your coworker. you couldn't do something like that to poor ino. you couldn't admit how much you were loving his hands all over you.

"nanami," you breathed, as he shoved your keyboard and mouse aside, hoisting you up onto your cluttered desk.

"what is it, sweet girl?" he mused, hooking his fingers into your waistband. you whined again, leaning back against your computer monitor.

a million things that you could have said flashed through your mind. as your hands settled around the back of his neck, you managed to land on one. "we're going to make a mess in here." he gave you a soft smile, tilting his head to kiss your forearm.

"don't worry about that," he murmured, your work pants starting to wrinkle around your ankles. "i'll clean up whatever i have to." he was fiddling with his belt buckle. the metal clinks seemed louder than cannonfire. you were desperate to find any hint of guilt left in either of you; you scanned his face, tried to ignore how willing you were to spread your bare legs for him, one trembling hand meeting his to pull down his zipper. he was smiling at you again, the small but warm smile you were sure nobody at the office but you had ever seen. if it weren't for the impatient way he was unbuttoning your top, you might have thought he was in love with you.

"at the risk of asking for too much," he breathed, his lips brushing against your ear, "can i ask you to kiss me?" without hesitation you pulled him in, nails digging into his pale skin as you licked the taste of black coffee off of his lips, relishing the way his soft groans bounced off of the cheap cubicle walls. he was touching you again with one shameless hand, swallowing your moans as his fingers dipped into you. you could feel him, solid as a rock, as he ground into your thigh. you pulled away, grasping at his hair.

"nanami," you said again, his name tasting semisweet on your tongue. your free hand traced down his chest, grazing tantalizingly exposed skin, daring to grab him by the base, your fingers absently tracing a vein. for the first time, you saw him completely speechless for just a moment, fighting for his composure.

he swallowed, eyes shutting for a moment. "i don't mean to take his place, you know," he said quietly, voice strained as he rubbed against you, narrowly missing your entrance. "i could never ask you to leave him for me, or anything of that nature. this never even has to happen again." he gripped at your thigh, his eyes darting down to see the way your skin dimpled, as if he couldn't believe the sensation from touch alone. "i just couldn't have gone another day without putting my hands on you." your head was spinning. how could you go back to ino after what you were doing? worse yet, how could you ever stay away from nanami?

"you might as well just fuck me now," you sighed, your legs tense from anticipation. "i'll-- we'll figure everything out later. i just need you right now." you clutched at the front of his shirt, pulling him in for another dreadful kiss as he finally sunk into you, hissing against your lips at the warm squeeze around him. your mind was almost blank, save for the damning realization that he was bigger than ino (just as you had imagined), stretching you in a way that made your eyes screw shut. he buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"god," he groaned. he pulled out, agonizingly slow, just to drill into you again. "you're divine." if you hadn't been so animalistically horny you might have felt ashamed about the way your coworker's cock was splitting you open on your desk, monitor thudding against the wall on beat with his deep thrusts, marks surely forming in places you could never hope to hide as he stifled his moans in your skin. you couldn't care about anything else anymore, breaking out into a sweat, clawing at his starched blue shirt, contracting around him just to hear his breath hitch. his slender fingers dug into your hips. "i don't know how much longer i can last," he choked out, his words carrying the threat of pulling out. you felt delusional, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you, unwilling to give it up so soon.

"nanami," you begged, "don't stop. you don't have to stop, it's okay." he abandoned your shoulder to look at you, one hand torn away from your hip to hold your chin again.

"are you sure, sweet girl?" he panted, his brows knit. "i was trying not to complicate things any more than i already have." how could his voice sound so even when he was plowing into you like that? you grabbed his dangling tie, pulling it like a leash.

"it can't get much more complicated than this." he smiled again. sweat had melted his expensive hair gel; you took a moment to savor how handsomely disarrayed he looked, strands of hair falling into his eyes, his shirt deeply wrinkled. "if it makes a difference, i've never let him--" a switch flipped, he cut you off with a thrust deeper than before, your knees pinned by your shoulders, nothing leaving your mouth but choked moans.

"a world of a difference," he murmured, movements getting sporadic. for all you cared, he could have been fucking you in the middle of the work day; the friction from the new position had you questioning how much longer you could last. judging by the way he was kissing you again, his mouth trailing down your chest, he could tell. "are you going to tell him?"

you threw your head back as his tongue circled your nipple. "would you, if you were me?" you groaned, your words punctuated by increasingly erratic thrusts. "i can't believe you'd even ask." as your vision turned white with pleasure, it occurred to you dimly that he was getting off on the thought of it. your whole body tensed, a terribly loud noise escaping you.

"if you don't tell him everything, at least mention how good i made you feel," he whispered, his face in your neck again as he pressed as far into you as he could, almost whimpering at the feeling of the cum seeping out of you before he had even pulled out. you were panting, limp under him, certain you had broken your monitor and drenched the keyboard, still throbbing and replaying nanami's words in your mind.

"do you want some help cleaning this up, nanami?" you rasped, holding the edge of the desk with a white-knuckled grip. he laughed, looking happier than you'd ever seen him.

"i would love to accept the help, but i think you have something more important to attend to." you wished he weren't so right. "i would offer to help you there, too, but i'm afraid i'm biased." he excused himself, heading to the bathroom (or so he claimed; you were almost positive that he went to stroll around aimlessly to give you time to think). you leaned your head back again, studying the ceiling. in all your life, you had never been so horrified by the sight of a security camera.

[arthropodboy]

Help save the adorable Miss Margles

A friend of mine from High School is trying to save his new senior kitties life, but he doesn't have the funds. I thought I'd try sharing this here because Tumblr is the only place I have even a little bit of reach.

Donations and/or reblogs would be greatly appreciated

"Hello! My name is Jay and I recently adopted Margles back in the beginning of July. This senior girlie was found wandering around downtown Tacoma in really horrible condition. When she was found, she was severely underweight, dehydrated, and seemed to be ill - it was very clear that someone had dumped her, or maybe everything went wrong and she ended up alone long enough to deteriorate on the street. My homie MJ fostered her for a while until I was able to adopt her!

Despite her condition, she is one of the most affectionate and trusting cats I've met in a long time, and after bringing her home she loved hopping into bed with me in the morning and licking my face to wake me up to feed her. She also absolutely loves getting brushed/groomed. She has quickly become good buddies with Tommy as well (our other senior kitty) who had been showing signs of wanting a companion before we got her.

This past month has been a lot of back and forth to the emergency vet clinic and our primary vet clinic as we've tried to figure out what's going on with her. She has been having bloody vaginal discharge, been unable to get comfortable, urinating inappropriately, vomiting daily, has had a steadily declining appetite, and could never seem to get enough water. We treated her for a UTI, however her symptoms returned as soon as her course of antibiotics finished.

However, we finally were able to figure out what's going on with her!! She has a severe urinary tract infection with two different types of bacteria that require a longer course of special antibiotics. Miss Margles was also diagnosed with kidney disease, pancreatitis, low potassium, and low phosphate. She is also severely underweight at 4.5lbs (but has been steadily gaining weight since coming to us). Thankfully, all of these conditions are easily manageable through treatment, medication, and supplements, and Meegles should be able to recover and live out her golden years in comfort with Tommy after we get her balanced out.

Although, as someone who is currently working paycheck to paycheck at minimum wage, the bills are quickly becoming more than I can handle.

With appointments averaging around $650, recurring medications about half of that, starting a specialized kidney diet, and the costs of supplements + daily fluid therapy (and of course urine + vomit cleaning spray...) I've reached a point where I've decided to seek out financial support in mutual aid. I am very hopeful that she will make a recovery from her current condition, but I fear that if these bills become too much I will have to try to find her a new home, which is already hard enough for senior kitties, let alone a high medical needs senior cat. I don't want to have to put her through a whole life transition again; especially since I have veterinary assistant experience and work in the animal care field, and am confident with giving her specialized care in my daily routine.

I am currently giving her 4 medications a day + 2 supplements, and subcutaneous fluid therapy once or twice daily. She is also getting monthly Solensia injections for her severe arthritis due to having very low muscle/fat content. Due to the sedative effects of some of these medications, Margles is experiencing extreme muscle weakness and needs assistance getting to the litterbox in time, grooming herself after eating or peeing/pooping, and will only eat via spoon feeding for now. Its quickly become a labor of love, and I know that Margles would be better off remaining in my care as she rides out her golden years.

Any financial support for her medical needs to ensure that she gets to remain in my care would be greatly appreciated! Even like $5 goes a long way. The goal amount is based on what I've spent so far and am estimated to be spending on the next follow up appointment. I will return to working at a vet clinic soon (I am currently working with zoo animals) and should hopefully get some discounts for her lifelong fluid therapy, arthritis injections, kidney disease management, and senior wellness exams in the future, so this is just to help us through the next few visits. Times are rough for us all right now, if you aren't able to donate please boost if you can!

Thanks for taking the time to read ‍⬛ I will post updates as they come

- Jay"

[chaoticloving]

Born to Die

koh!harry styles x mob!reader

summery: after being double crossed, y/n is forced into making a deal with the devil.

warnings: death, murder, mentions of kidnapping and guns also anything related to hell and the mafia (surprise ik), angst and lil smut if you squint

w/c: 5.2k

a/n: HALLOWEEN FIC!!! also want to say that murder is not cool, and running a mafia is not cool. please like a reblog this since its something i normally don't do and i want to know all of your thoughts!!! also because i might've failed a test because i was writing this instead of studying!!! enjoy!

Y/n by no means was a good person. Morally, sure, she did everything that allied with her beliefs, but ethically, she was a nightmare. From being known as a heartless woman to being one of the most feared people in history–maybe, other than Satan–she knew the power she possessed, her effect on people. 

She got her start in the casino world. She opened her first casino by age nineteen, using her charm and wit to impress men with big pockets to take her casino off the ground and launch it to success. Success, of course, leads to money, which leads to power and power leads to anything. Specifically for Y/n, that anything was weapons trading, money laundering, extortion, and the bright idea to dabble into politics. 

As time went on, so did the list of enemies. So, it was about time for them to band together to take down the empire that Y/n built.

The day started out normal. Y/n woke up in her private mansion, one in the rich and private suburbs of New York. No one knew where she lived, except her “friend”, Angelo. Although she would never call him when she was in trouble–which is never–he was competent enough to do her “dirty” work. Angelo came from a wealthy background, a rich school boy who had no idea how destroyed the world was. He was just desperate to be seen as “edgy”. He was a good boy who knew how to follow orders, that's all she needed. 

It was nearly two in the afternoon, Y/n’s sleep cycle was all out of whack. She tries her best to stay awake as much as she can. It’s hard when there's no one to lean on but would she even trust someone? Could she?

Y/n does her ‘morning’ routine: shower, teeth, cleanser, makeup, and then hair. She sighs as she admires herself in the mirror. She had a scar on her cheek bone. It was faint, yet noticeable if you looked hard enough. She remembers getting it too; the day when she walked away with a bleeding cheek and then the man who did that to her laid there a bullet hole in the head. It was probably the day her crime boss title was given, a well deserved name for the most feared person in the world. 

Her face, though, was perfect. She knows what her grunts say about her–mainly tame things, as the last time she heard something inappropriate got to see the barrel of her gun–but what truly fills her ego is the face of some man, begging for mercy, begging her to tell her boss that they’ll do anything, then revealing herself as the boss.

In her morning, she felt peaceful. She changed into some athletic clothes, heading to her gym to do some boxing, but her phone rang out. She sighed as she said Angelo’s name–this couldn’t be good.

“Boss.” His voice cracked, and it just pissed Y/n off more.

“Spit it out.”

“My house was ransacked.” She sighed as she heard this, running her fingers through her hair. “Including the safe that kept your location.”

She hung up the phone and raced back to her room. She grabbed her go bag in the back of her closet when she heard her front doors being knocked down. Y/n swore as she loaded her gun, knowing she would have to fight her way out of this, and she knew exactly who she would have to fight. 

A man with a fake deep voice, Alister, was telling the men to travel in a group. Zeke, another casino owner with a terrible cough from smoking, agrees saying to go down the hall to her bedroom. 

That caught Y/n’s attention, they seemed to know where her room was despite that information not being in Angelo’s safe; she knew what that meant, and groaned when she knew she’d have to do more work after this. 

Y/n took a deep breath when her bedroom door whipped open, a series of footsteps following along. “You go first.” “No you go!” “I went first in through the front door. Gerry go.” “Hell fuckin no.”

Bag over her shoulder, gun locked and ready, Y/n opened the closet door gun drawn in front. She fired a few bullets, knowing she landed from the grunts let out by a couple on the men, then lunged for the bedroom door. She sprinted out, hearing bullets fired at her and turned the corner, heading for the exit. As she ran down the stairs though, a bullet went through her ankle, tripping and falling right on her head. 

…

Harry was tired. 

He always seemed to be these days, or nights really. He was always in a sour mood, but what could you expect from the king of hell? It was his whole thing, being angry and mad all the time, but he was getting tired of it. The limited emotions would soon turn to nothingness, and he wasn’t sure what he preferred. 

The anger reminded him of his early king days. When he was first given the position, he gave into the anger and madness that came with Hell and turned it into energy. 

It was important to note that just because someone was sent to hell didn’t mean Harry liked them, in fact, he hated all of them.

Hell was ruled in weird ways. You had anyone who did anything majorly wrong, but you also had those who were truly evil, the ones that fueled Harry’s hatred for human kind and got the worst tourter out of anyone. 

Harry groaned as he sat on his desk. He knew this was truly Hell because he had a stack of paperwork to go over. Niall had dropped off a couple of stacks of people who would most likely be sent down today. They used statistical probability to see who on the “bound to hell list” would most likely get themselves killed that day and what to expect. 

Harry sipped his drink, a special Hell coffee brew that the devils made to perfection, as looked at the list. The normal people everyday, a couple people he knew, some workers downstairs had a bet on to see when they’d go, a rich guy, a gang leader, a politician, etc. 

Harry’s eyes wandered back to the gang leader, recognizing the name from multiple people's cause of death section. 

Y/n Y/l/n was a human he recognized, she was one of the few he could recognize and empathize with from his time as a human. He appreciated how she didn’t do anything rash. She had a plan for everything and knew what to expect, which caused his eyebrows to raise when he saw her name. According to his stats, she wasn’t due until old age, her COD being simply old age. 

It didn’t make sense. 

“Niall get in ‘ere.” He spoke into his phone, knowing a couple seconds later he would be knocking on the door. “Comin.”

“What’cha want boss?” Niall walked in with his hands in his pockets.

“Why is Y/l/n in this list?” He threw her file to Niall, who skimmed it. “She isn’t due for a few more decades.”

“Huh.”

“What does that mean?” Harry was getting impatient, not understanding why the man was taking his sweet time. 

“You remember that angel that kept fucking with the people we like?”

Harry gave him a blank look.

“Louis punched him and got in trouble with the people upstairs.”

“The guy with the fucked up jaw?” Harry remembered. “What about ‘em?”

“Angelo, yeah.” Niall clarified. “That’s her COD. He causes her death.”

He tosses the file back to Harry and he quickly rereads the file. “Leave me.”

“Alright.” Naill heads to the exit, but hesitates at the door. “I know she's one of the better worse ones, but don’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble with upstairs.”

Harry just glares at him in return.

…

Y/n woke up in a haze. 

At first, she didn’t want to wake up. The couch she was laying on was too comfy, and warmth radiating from a fire relaxed her deeply–but soon remembered the events that just transpired. 

She quickly gets on her feet, and is surprised when she doesn’t wince on her foot. She takes in her surroundings. She was in a room that seemed weirdly intimate; soft walls painted red illuminated with fire on candles and torches that emitted a soft smell of fresh rain. The noise though copied the smell. It sounded as though there was a thunderstorm outside, but it was off, it sounded artificial. 

She didn’t think about it too much though. Her main priority was leaving this hell hole. 

There was a single door and Y/n tried to unlock it but it wouldn’t budge. 

She had to calm herself down from what was going on. She tried to think of how long she had passed out and who kidnapped her. 

She tried to find a secret compartment, something to get her out of here, but when she heard the door handle jiggle, she grabbed a candle. 

She was met with a man, hair set back with a strand in front. “Woah there lady.” He held his hands up in defense. “I’m not gonna hurt you, just coming to get you out of this stuffy room.

She didn’t say anything or lower the candle. 

The man sighed. “Fine. Look, I'm Zayn and my boss wants to meet you. I don’t even know if what he did was allowed but I don’t really want to get yelled at right now do can you please just follow me.”

“Who is your boss?” She questioned. “What did you do to me while I was out?”

“Oh, for god's sake nothing! No one did. Man, just because I’m a devil doesn’t mean I act as disgustingly as some of those humans.” The man, Zayn, seemed deeply offended by her question, and her implying he was a “human”.

“Who is your boss?” She started again.

“Not one of your enemies, in fact, I’d say he's a huge fan. He is really impressed with your work.” Zayn revealed. “So if you would follow me.”

She didn’t have much of a choice and followed Zayn. “Leave the candle please.”

She sighed but complied, she hated being put into a corner like this.

Y/n followed behind him, keeping her wits about her and watching the man’s hands very carefully. They walked down the hall but stopped at the room with grand doors. “Alright so you go in there. “ He knocked on the door and they swung open quickly. Y/n felt a powerful presence from the desk and could barely make out a figure.

“In ya go.” Zayn pushed her in and closed the door. The room was illuminated, just like in the other room, with a series of candles, but there was a chandelier with candles above the desk, revealing the figure.

“Hello darling.” The man smiled, standing up and walking to the other side of his desk, sticking out his hand. “I’m Harry.”

Y/n shaked his hand, a firm yet not overpowering grip on both ends. “I don’t know you, why am I here?”

Harry smiled, she was just like in her file. “I’m here to make a deal.”

“A deal?” She questioned. “You kidnapped me, forced me here, and now want a deal.”

“Yup.” He smiled.

“What do I have that you need?” As much as Y/n hated to admit it, this Harry had the upper hand, so why did he need a deal? 

“You make my work here much better, and you need revenge.” He said simply, like she knew what here was.

“You talk like I know you. Like I know this place.” 

“Oh my bad darling, I’m sure you have some questions.” He smiled, walking over to the windows, covered by draps. “You’re in Hell.” He dramatically revealed the outside, showing what looked like a red storm with red lightning and rain. 

“Are you one of the LSD dealers?” She laughed. It made Harry’s dead heart pound and stomach drop. He looked back to her with a disappointed yet angry look. “I’m not buyin’ anything, alright?”

“I’m Harry, King of Hell. And I just saved your life from a bunch of shitty men who would like nothing more than killing you.” He seethed, not used to people not taking him seriously. “You send the most deserving people here, you’re my top supplier, and I saved your life so you could get revenge on the reason you would be dead.”

“Sure, you saved my life by taking me to Hell.”

“Do you want me to send you back?” Harry asked, walking over to the fireplace and flicking his wrist. “This is what you have waiting for you when you go back.

Y/n’s curiosity of the better of her and walked forward to the fire. She peered into it and saw herself laying on the ground of her home. The scene moved to her angry enemies close to her body, guns ready. 

Y/n didn’t feel right. She knew she was here, but by looking at the image of herself she could feel her process being elsewhere, presumably with guns aimed at her head. 

This man couldn’t be telling the truth, could he? Is he even a man?

“Why aren’t I dead?” Is all she asked, not looking at Harry, eyes staying on herself.

“Time works differently down here.” He shrugged, partly glad she was coming around. “I was able to pull you down here when you hit your head. But because coming to Hell takes up lots of energy, and you were already injured, you were out for what would’ve been the equivalent for a day.”

“A day?”

“25 hours if you want to be precise, but yeah.”

Y/n couldn’t help but believe him. And looking at herself, helpless, and closer to death than what she is now, she didn’t have any other move then to agree to his deal. She’d come up with some other plan to cross him. 

How hard could it be to double cross the devil?

“What are the terms of your deal?”

A sly smile swept across Harry’s face. “I’ll save your life if you help me kill an angel.”

“That’s all?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Harry chided, walking over to his desk and taking the file he needed. “Angels are hard to kill. And this one is someone close to you.”

He flung the file over and Y/n caught it, not interested in thinking about the physics or “magic” that made the manilla folder guilde over to her simply.

“Angelo?” She asked in a monotone voice. “Not that good of a cover name, huh?” She smiled as she read the information of the Angel. The pieces fit together with all of his little mannerisms, the sacredness with anything murdery and lying. Harry noted the sly smiled that mimicked his earlier. She knew this girl was insane, but was it bad that he liked it? Why does he care though, he’s the King of Hell, he’s supposed to do bad things.

“How do I kill it?” She asked, now meeting Harry’s eyes. 

“Oh, “I” now? You gonna kill him yourself?”

“I’m guessing so if that’s the reason you saved me.” She remarked. “How do we kill it then?”

“I know a place in the upper world that we can travel to that has information on all this stuff.” Harry huffs, slowly approaching Y/n. “Do we have a deal?”

Harry held out his hand, ready to shake. Y/n glance down to the hand then to his eyes; they were a red-yellow with a pupil like a cat but didn’t quite go with his face. His face had no marks though, his skin was a little rough but clear–maybe that's what being the King of Hell does to you. 

She shook his hand. Firm hands met each other, hers was deathly cold while his were burning. 

“I will need to send you up there and to be honest, I’ve never done this before so bear with me here, love.” Harry smiled as he leaned in and kissed the back of her hand, causing her to feel faint again. 

…

She felt herself laying on the ground, tired beyond belief. She heards guns loading and thought for a second she imagined everything, the fire room, the red lightning, the devil, the king. She breathed in and couldn’t believe this would be her final seconds, Y/n couldn’t let herself go out like this. 

…

Harry has never brought someone down to Hell before. He was glad it took too long for Y/n to awaken because he was in no shape to have a conversation while he was passed out too–coincidentally, for the same time Y/n was. But bringing someone back to the human world and himself was such a heavy task. He looked around and was outside, “breathing” in the fresh air. It was lightly raining, nothing like the fire rain back in Hell, but it had a calming presence like never before. 

It took him a second to realize what was going to happen inside of the home. He barraged in though the grand doors–mad at himself he couldn’t appear inside–and was met with quite the scene. 

Y/n is barely holding herself up, men were crowding around her and tasting victory. Her eyes were dropping, her skin tone cooled dramatically then even what it was before. Harry felt guilt creeping in, he needed to do something, but luckily, all eyes were on him when the door slammed shut behind him. 

“Who’s this fucker, huh?” The tall and lanky pointed his gun to Harry. “This the real Boss? Knew a weak fucker like you couldn’t be this big bad mob boss.”

Laughter rang out, the men now aiming their guns towards Harry. Before Harry could retaliate, Y/n landed a punch on the man who spoke who fell to the ground. Harry knew this was his chance to ask on his side of the deal, he practically teleported to the other men and all he had to do was press on their head, knocking them out, giving Niall some more paper down below. 

Y/n had collapsed and Harry was just able to save her from hitting her head again. 

Harry knew what he needed to do and didn't hesitate. 

He picked her up and ran outside until he found a car. It was presumably hers and he was lucky enough that he was able to start it. He has never driven a car before but it was pretty intuitive, she slammed on the gas pedal and headed to the city. 

Harry soon found out he hated cars. If he wasn't so tired he probably would have been able to teleport Y/n and himself directly to wherever they needed to go, but of course, he is stuck with this god forsaken mode of transportation. He got lost a couple times too, but eventually he made it into the city, all while Y/n was passed out in the passenger seat. 

A couple minutes after getting off of some exit, he heard Y/n groan and shuffle around.

Harry had to admit, it was impressive how quickly she came to her senses after being knocked out. He looked at her and was surprised to see a knife at his throat. “Where are you taking me?”

He scoffed. “Trust me now, will ya?” She had an unimpressed look on her face. “We are going to the New York Public Library, or  “possessor secretorum celi et inferni” as we call it.”

“Why would we go to the fucking library?”

“Because there's a section that's only accessible to demons and angels walking the earth. That way we can figure out how you’re going to kill that bitch of an angel.” Harry clairfied, gently guiding her hand down and out of view from onlookers while driving. He pulled around and eventually found a parking spot. 

“Why do I have to kill Angelo?” She asked, placing her knife back into its secret spot–Harry could imagine what other weapons, and maybe not weapons, were under her clothes too–then getting out of the car. “You’re the king of death, why don’t you just kill him?”

Harry sighed, brushing his long hair out of his face while grabbing a pair of sunglasses from the car, putting them over his devil eyes. “The only thing both devils and angels know is that they can’t ‘kill’ one another, a human has to do that.”

They walked into the library, Harry leading the way up the stairs and down a long and abandoned hallway. It was a clique. A complete and utter clique. Going down a dark hallway to find a secret room with the devil himself. 

Harry did some hand motion to the wall, a pentagram appeared and then Harry grabbed Y/n’s hand. “Walk with me.”

Y/n was about to ask “walk where?” but Harry had practically pulled her through the wall. She stumbled a bit, but regained herself when she let go of Harry’s hand. She looked around and was met with a small dusty room. Harry flicked his wrist and the littering of candles around the room lit up. Harry sighed and began taking books off of a bookshelf.

“Start looking for anything about Angels.” Harry asked. “This could take awhile.”

“This place doesn’t seem to get used too often.” Y/n remarked, starting at the opposite book shelf. “It’s very Narnia-like.”

“Narnia?”

“It’s this children's book where there's another world.” She summarized. “This place, and Hell I guess, are very other-wordly. Just not what one would normally imagine.”

“What? Don’t like the idea of there being Hell?” Harry chuckled, putting book after book back on the shelf. 

“I never really thought much about it. I knew if there was Hell, I’d go there, but that didn’t really stop me from everything.” She replied. “What about you? How does one become the King of Hell?”

“I was a human, before. I didn’t have the best life, I was crossed, lied to, and used.” Y/n noticed a bit of a horse sound coming from him, but it was quickly gone after he cleared his throat. “All that creates pain, then anger, and I guess it was enough anger to get Lucifer’s attention. He made me be the perfect devil to take over as King when I died so he could deal with some other plans.”

Y/n nodded and kept checking books. She soon realized that all the books in her row were about devils and demons. There was an interesting page though that she read, titled “The Devil's Tourture”. She kept reading, then she found the most interesting paragraph.

Any type of dark entity is subject to toutrue from this one thing. They are groomed to bring the most perfect pain, the best way to get humans to live their worst life, so the solution on how to kill a Devil? Make him repent. Make him sorry for his past actions, make him change his whole ideology, make him regret his dead life and wish to be better. It doesn’t matter the motivation, whether it be love, greed, lust; the important part is making sure to feel remorse. 

“Y/n?” Speak of the Devil, literally. Harry’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts while she closed the book shut. “I got something.”

Y/n placed the book back onto the shelf and walked over to Harry. “Seems like you just gotta make him sin.” Harry laughed. “Shouldn’t be too hard, fucker set up your death.”

Y/n scoffed at the irony, all she has to do tonight is make an Angel sin and a Devil repent, what could be hard about that?

“Do you know where Angelo could be?” Harry asked, heading out of the claustrophobic room, Y/n next to him. 

“I tagged him when I first met him. He normally hangs out in his home on the upper east side.” Harry nodded, taking off the sunglasses and making a quick haste to the exit. She took the keys out of Harry's hand and reached for the driver's seat. “No offense but you can’t drive.”

Harry’s eyes got darker when he started at Y/n, but she didn’t move. He gave way and walked shamly over to the passenger’s side. He could not imagine that happening down in Hell, but up here, it’s Y/n’s territory.

The drive would be short, that’s what Y/n assured Harry as he looked a little pale, his warm undertones turning cold. She decided to be nice to get him off the drive. “Why do you want to kill Angelo so bad?”

Harry smiled. “He is famous for going after Hell’s favorite people. You for example.” Harry looked over to Y/n. She notices his look on his face and swears that his red eyes go sea-green for a second. This could be easier than I thought. “Like I said, you’re my top supplier. You send the ones who really need to be punished. You’re already better than some of the Devils I sent up here to do that.”

“Oh stop, or I’ll think you’re flirting with me.” She laughed. She hated herself in the moment, it made her feel young when she was first starting out in the mob world and no one took her seriously. She hated flirting; the plan was to go the rest of her life without anyone else, they would just slow her down and deep down she knew nobody would understand her. But flirting with the devil was so much easier then she thought it would be. At least he sort of understood some of her mind.

Harry laughed. A sweetly weird sound coming from him. She never thought a devil could make that noise.

“So what if I am? Don’t get to see a lot of pretty girls down in Hell.” He replied. Harry didn’t like the feeling in his chest, it reminded him of when he was about to die. So he decided to change the subject. “How’d you get that scar?”

Y/n shrugged her shoulders. “I killed someone.”

She pulled up to a luxurious house, soon exiting the car with Harry on her heels. “So what do I do? Have sex with him?

“No, don’t be so vulgar.” Don’t be so jealous. “You can do what you want but it should just be easy to make him lust for you, or to get him greedy.”

She nodded, then unlocked the door with a copy she had made when she first met Angelo. She turned back around to look at Harry but he was gone yet his presence was felt. She went inside. 

“Angelo?” She screamed into the house. A lanky man came running though, shock written all over his face as he came face to face with his boss. 

“Boss? I-” His voice was scared until Y/n crashed into his arms, fake tears running down her cheeks. 

“Angelo, th-these men came into my house and they almost killed me. I-I was cornered I could barely get out. I know they’re following me and I have no one who I trust more than you.” She looked up at Angelo, he had a terrible poker face and she could seem the gleam in his eye. “Please, I need your help. I need you Angleo.”

“It’s okay, darling. I got you.” He got her into a hug lucky because Y/n couldn’t hold back on the disgust written on her face. When Angleo said the name, it was terrible, it just didn’t sound right. 

“You’ve always been there for me. Please, let me make it up to you.” She broke away from his hug but placed her hands on his cheek, leaning in slowly.

“Oh, you, you don’t have to…do that.” His breathing was more irregular. She paused less than an inch away from his lips.

“I want to.” She said, “Do you?”

“Yes.” He admitted but before their lips could touch he howled in great pain, falling to the floor. 

Harry appeared behind  Y/n, a sly smile on his face. His eyes were extra red, almost as if his iris was made of blood. “Finally.”

“Harry?” Angelo weezed.

Harry stepped forward from behind her shadow and knelt down to Angelo. “That’s right. Oh don’t get like that. You just lost that’s it.”

“How?”

“Because you made someone very important up here mad, and I took notice.” Harry shrugged. “Now go cry to god or whatever emptiness you’re going to face.”

Harry stood up and kicked him. He turned back to Y/n who also had a smile on his face. Harry felt that weird pang in his chest again. He locked eyes with her, both taking a step forward, embracing each other.

They kissed, hard. Harry never understood what it meant to kiss someone passionately like it was described in the books he read long ago, but now he did. His hand wandered, so did hers. She walked him backwards until he fell onto the couch, causing Y/n to straddle his lap.

“Fuck, Harry.” She tasted sweet oddly enough, and as Harry found himself getting more addicted the more the pain in his chest arrived. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to live without you.”

Harry broke from the kiss, looking her in the eye and nodded, kissing her deeply again. He needed to find a way to get Lucifer back, a way for him to not be King of Hell anymore, a way to stay with Y/n. He prayed for some way to make him alive, to make him be able to be with her. 

“I’ll stay. I’ll stay forever–”

His voice stopped working. His throat got immensely dry. He could feel the way that Y/n smiled against his mouth, breaking away to look at Harry. He looked up to her, confused and partly terrified. 

“That sounds like repenting to me.” She tsked. “That’s a big no no, Harry.”

Harry’s hands clawed at her for some comfort, he didn’t know what was happening to him. He felt scared for the first time after his death.

“Turns out killing Angels and Devils is easy.” She smiled. “Angels you have to make sin, and Devils you have to make repent. Who knew?”

Harry never felt betrayed like this before. He always knew in his living life he was a hopeless romantic, he just couldn’t believe the Devil version of him is one too. He should’ve known Y/n would do this to him, she's just as cruel as he is, or was. 

“I’m sorry. You probably are my soulmate.” Her words did sound sorrowful, more than her acting with Angelo. “But this is about survival, Harry. And I owed a great debt to you that couldn’t have been paid off with one Angel’s death.”

Harry’s vision started to close, he knew the last thing he would ever see would be the devil, shining up above him with a face he so badly wanted to kiss. His last thoughts were that he didn’t regret this, saving her. He would gladly die a thousand deaths if it meant she would live, if he could kiss her just once. 

“I’ll see you down there, Harry.”

[yrthr]

☾ JUST ONE DANCE ; RICKY

ricky masterlist / zb1 masterlist wc ; too lazy to wc this

➛ genre / trope ; royalty au 🎧— trying a new style of writing , definitely fun to write but it may not even make sense

the annual festival at the southern kingdom was today.

your father had definitely told you its name , however he spoke too fast so you didn’t quite catch its name. he seems more excited than you about it. although from your mother she did state that the traditions were similar to that of valentines day.

anyhow , there would be a celebration at the castle tonight and your father stated explicitly that the family would be attending.

knowing the tendencies his oh-so-obedient child has of skipping out on the royal family duties , an order was established in which you were not to leave the castle grounds till the family set out to the festival.

which means all eyes on you.

leaving you without a choice but to attend some boring celebration.

with the time ticking the setting slowly warped itself and now you found yourself sitting on the warm seats of a roofless carriage , the sky a nice shade of warm blue with clouds slowly fading away.

the carriage rattled when the wheels popped over rocks , the hooves of the horses throttles were somewhat comforting to the ears along with the mix of birds chirping or the occasional sounds of a waterfall. all accompanied by the deep green forest leaves pumping out a consistent flow of oxygen which produced fresh sets of air to breath in.

nature itself was enough to drown out the endless amount of words flowing out your parents.

speaking of your parents , they had also made a point of informing you that prince ricky would be there tonight. 

well it wouldn’t be strange for the southern kingdoms own prince to attend the festival of course , but there was something slightly.. off.

a gut feeling one would say.

in all the gatherings you had attended , whether it be by force or by will , he would always catch your eye.

smartly dressed but not too extreme , hair neatly styled or a not too noticeable lazy comb , skin in perfect condition with the perfect princely image one could only dream of having.

however he wouldn’t even attend these events for more than ten minutes before completely disappearing for the night. rumours circulated that an argument broke out with him and his parents over finding him a suitable spouse. which lead to ricky being trapped in his own home for a month.

but rumours were , well , rumours.

questioning him about the matter out of pure curiosity would be rather inappropriate.

without thinking twice you were suddenly trying to come up with reasons as to why he would attend a valentines day event if he was that opposed to marriage.

was he forced ? a likely possibility.

maybe he was needed ? another likely reason , he was the prince after all. perhaps he was hosting this year.

or… maybe he had his eye on someone. at first the idea seemed impossible - but come to think of it in all the years you’ve attended this event he was absent throughout all of them , all but this years.

wait why were you so interested about his love life. it wasn’t right to stick your nose into other peoples business.

…but perhaps you’ll watch him closely tonight , just to see who his secret crush might be.

arriving at your destination , the castles ballroom had been almost completely transformed. the walls decked out with iridescent silks that swayed every so slightly , the rich pearl-grey fabric gently shimmered in the corner of your eye. the warm colours radiating off the delicately designed chandelier lazily drifted across the ballroom , the balcony dripping with every flower and colour known to man which heavily contrasted the warm toned atmosphere making them stand out even more.

the southern kingdoms family waltzed up to yours greeting you with warm welcomes.

but you weren’t paying attention to the shameful excuse of small talk , all your attention was focused on him.

a white button up slight unbuttoned showing off a sharp set of collarbones which perfectly matches his jawline , a black coat with the purest and most transparent gold details rested on his broad shoulders paired with a sleek pair of leather dress shoes. to top it all off was the white gloves that adorned his sleek slender fingers and the horizontal tattoo that was drawn so delicately on his neck.

a work of art he was.

thankfully - he hadn’t noticed you.

oh goodness , look at you. he hadn’t even noticed your presence and yet you were gawking over a man who would probably be taken by the end of todays festival. how awful , to think that you’ve gotten yourself into yet another one of your delusional fantasies. at least it saves you the embarrassment of the fool you’d make out of yourself if you’d have to talk to-

“ y/n was it ? pleasure seeing you once again. “

oh lord , he’s speaking to me. once again… does that mean he knew i existed even before this ? quick , say something y/n or at least react !

well you must’ve said something because he’s now laughing in a way that makes your stomach flip. oh how his laugh was heavenly.

“ seems like my fathers calling me , help yourself to the refreshments over at the balcony. i shouldn’t be long i’ll find you again my dear. “

my dear ? did he really just call you that.. ? by the time you stopped malfunctioning and came up with a half decent reply , he was already halfway across the room.

maybe detective work wasn’t your thing as standing on the balcony watching down on ricky chatting and laughing with other guests produced no results to your initial goal. finding his secret crush. instead it produced more problems for you finding it rather difficult to keep your eyes off the said male.

every few minutes or so , his eyes would scan the room before darting towards you which you’d have to pretend to be searching for something else or faking admiring the rather boring paintings that seemingly covered every inch of these brick walls.

he’s got to be trying to impress someone. the body language is telling as it is !

but you’ll never be able to crack the case if he keeps making eye contact with you. maybe it’s time to hatch a new plan.

engrossed in your own thoughts , you failed to notice the shift in the atmospheres mood.

what’s that sound ?

it seems like the musicians have started a new piece and judging off by how the guests were scrambling to find a partner it was officially time to open up the dance floor.

ah yes the clique dance is a must have during kingdom festivals , i mean seriously who enjoys this kind of- wait.. this was your chance. just wait and see who he dances with and you have your mystery crush ! oh you are a genius y/n , now where did he go…

“ y/n ? “

oh here he is , and… he’s offering you his hand. he couldn’t possibly mean…

ricky let out a small chuckle , “ my dear i don’t mean to rush you but the musics about to start. may i ? “

you must’ve agreed as the next thing you knew his hand on your waist guiding you closer to the middle of the ballroom. he took a step back and bowed which you gladly returned , before taking you back into his arms once more beginning the dance.

without years of practice you could say with full fledge confidence that you weren’t very good at this.

“ im afraid you weren’t very subtle , am i really that interesting to look at ? “

embarrassed you admitted to your staring , but how could you not he was decked down in luxury , to impress someone perhaps ?

“ why yes i am dressed differently - but i do have to disagree with you there , you yourself are the most stunning being here tonight. “

he’s avoiding eye contact with you with a blush appearing on his cheeks , “ as for impressing someone , that was my intention would you say i’ve succeeded ? “

of course whoever it is they couldn’t possibly ignore you , you’ve probably impressed the whole guest list tonight even if that wasn’t your goal , do i know the person in question ?

“ ah. “

well that wasn’t much of a response.. you looked at him with confusion adorning your features as his arm tightens around your waist pulling your body closer to his.

“ it seems like my intentions have not been clear tonight , my dear the one i’ve been trying to impress is you , if you’ll have me. “

“ this dance signifies the many differently ways love is shown whether it be friends or family. in any case , this specific song although only slightly different from the normal ones we play , signifies a completely different meaning. this dance is a confession of romantic love - sincere , undying and forever lasting. do you see what i’m saying y/n ? “

you do , and you tell him as such.

“ my darling you have no idea how long i’ve waited to hear you say that. “

his fingers traced the outline of your jaw lifting your head up to face his.

“ now then , why not i show you a more familiar sign of affection. “

if anyone saw what happens next , they don’t say anything. it was after all the princes first dance to this song , he couldn’t be blamed for skipping to the final step.

divider by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

©️ yrthr 2023

[freyafrida]

i'm assuming the rec they're referring to is this lovely post by @gogandmagog, to whom i must thank for unearthing this fic, lol. i wrote this chapter back in 2012(!!!) so unfortunately i don't remember what exactly i had in mind for shirley and pencil girl (love that nickname), or if i even had more of a story in mind. i don't see myself writing another chapter for arco iris (although never say never?) BUT i did have some vague headcanons and influences so i will share them!

anyway. what did shirley say to her afterwards? i didn't have a full idea for this in my head and i'm of two minds about it! i can see him just ignoring it because whatever, he's not interested in getting his name written up on the side of the schoolhouse and it's none of his business why Pencil Girl decided to, apparently, lose her mind one day after school. i can also see him being pretty straightforward and asking her about it and being completely embarrassed that she's sweet on him and again, having zero interest in getting his name put on a Take Notice.

either way, they both pretend it didn't happen for a few years, but Pencil Girl never quite gives up her little crush on him, and she and shirley grow to be friends in adolescence after he gets over being flustered by her existence. they exchange sympathetic letters during the war, maybe get into wacky adventures as college kids, and fall in love along the way. the end.

so, some background: this is very niche, but as a kid, i was very into the boy/girl battle series by phyllis reynolds naylor (which i also wrote fic for in 2012 -- maybe that spilled into arco iris?). i didn't do it consciously, but in hindsight, i think i was inspired by the dynamic between the characters wally and caroline. wally is the most introverted of his brothers, thoughtful and quietly imaginative, while caroline is an attention-seeking theater kid who drags wally into her mischief. they're both annoyed by each other because they're middle schoolers, but they're also both imaginative and slightly lonely because everyone thinks they're weird, and they find they (unwillingly) understand each other on that more fundamental level. anyway! it's not a 1:1 comparison, but i think i was imagining shirley/pencil girl from a similar place. we know shirley isn't totally opposed to mischief (see "well-deserved spankings" in RV) and while we also know he hates to be badgered with chatter per RoI, i was also picturing him as a bit matthew cuthbert-esque, where he doesn't mind exuberance as long as he's not expected to actually respond in kind (that's how i interpret "badgering", anyway).

i was also semi-influenced by the dynamic between kyon and haruhi in the melancholy of haruhi suzumiya, haha. obviously none of this is evident in that very short chapter, but uh, that's the backstory if you're interested, or if it gives an idea of how the rest of the story might go!

i also was actually influenced by the jenny penny section of anne of ingleside! i first read that book as a teenager and tbh i took the jenny penny section and all its judgment about Dirty Houses and Fighting Adults and Not Saying Your Prayers a leetle personally, lmao. i found the blythes pretty snobbish in that story* (this livejournal post is a pretty good summary of how i felt about anne of ingleside at the time). so i also had the loose headcanon of the blythes having to deal with someone a little socially inappropriate, who they wouldn't approve of very much. again, this was way too much to be evident in the actual chapter, but this is where the whole "girl who kisses rando boys in classrooms" concept came from, if you're interested.

anyway that's how shirley/pencil girl would've gone. hope this didn't ruin it for you, nonny, and thank you for reading ❤️

* i mean, upon reread, there are actual issues with the pennys: jenny is a more intentional liar than anne ever was, and the grandma makes di show her her underwear??? weird. but also jenny is, like, the lone realistically troubled child in a book of unusually twee children, and i found her surprisingly sympathetic for that reason. anyway. i had feelings.

[undercoverwarlock]

Microfic: Polite

Harry watched the refracting, ethereal candle light shining through the crystal chandeliers and thought that, by now, the Ministry would have updated its decorations. The ballroom was stuffy with the press of too many bodies, and he, stood near the balcony looking out to the sprawling estate’s gardens, kept inching closer and closer towards the doors. Every time he did, though, another official would sidle up to him or insist on shaking his hand or, even worse, ask for a photograph with him. He had just about resigned himself to his fate for the rest of the evening when he felt a familiar presence coming over to stand just behind his left shoulder. He sighed, and assumed it was Ron, back from his reconnaissance of the canapé table. Tilting his head without looking away from the sea of politicians, journalists and social climbers, Harry muttered, “I feel like a two-Knut whore.”

“Just don’t go about taking your clothes off.”

Harry nearly jumped out of skin. He spun around, half choking as he swore, “Jesus Christ!”

“No, Draco Malfoy,” said the tall man Harry had mistaken for Ron. He frowned, tilting his head to one side as he stared down his pointed nose at Harry. “Did you seriously think I was someone else?”

“What? No, it’s - never mind.” Harry rubbed at his chest, his heart doing wild jumps up into his throat and then straight down into his stomach. He didn’t see much of Draco these days. The post-war years had replaced the lanky, pale and arrogant teen with a young man, full of confidence, yes, but with a guarded and straightforward stare. The candlelight warmed his hair from white blond to tarnished gold, and even somehow softened his otherwise austere black robes. If Harry was honest with himself, the man before him was annoyingly attractive. So of course, he took a breath and said, “Besides, the clothes only come off for VIP ticket holders.”

Draco’s eyes widened only for a moment before he bit back a laugh. He ducked his head and, sobering his expression, said, “Oh, well, good thing I have a VIP ticket then, or I would have missed the show. Although,” and here he raked his gaze up and down Harry’s body in a way that was surely inappropriate in a room full of people, “maybe I should have bought all of the VIP tickets. You know, make it a private show.”

Harry’s cheeks warmed and he licked his lips, not missing how Draco’s eyes flickered to his mouth as he did so. “Well then, I guess you’ll just have to share.”

Draco’s smile grew crooked, almost predatory.

“Oh Potter,” he said in a soft undertone, stepping closer under the pretence of straightening Harry’s tie, “you should know by now that I. Don’t. Share.”

Harry swayed forward just slightly, eyelashes fluttering as he tried to clear his head - but Draco was so close, Harry could practically taste his cologne, citrus and clove, and the only thought he could manage to string together was, God, I want to snog Draco Malfoy.

But before he could do anything about that, he heard Ron’s voice as it drew closer with each one of his friend’s bounding steps. “Hey, Harry, I brought you a plate of nibbles, although I think I’ve been eating a bit off of yours and mine, sorry.”

Draco, taking in Harry’s befuddled eyes and crimson cheeks, chuckled and leaned in to whisper into Harry’s ear, “I’ll see you later for the show, Potter.” Then he stepped back, nodded at Ron as he drew closer, and slipped away into the crowd with one final wink at Harry. Ron frowned, looking from where Draco had been standing only moments before to a blushing and embarrassingly turned on Harry.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“He was just being polite, is all,” Harry mumbled. He snatched his plate of canapés from Ron’s grasp so he could have something to do with his hands. Ron’s frown deepened.

“But Malfoy’s not polite.”

“I’ll let you come to your own conclusions,” Harry replied, and made a break for the balcony doors.

-

For @drarrymicrofic prompts, “We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off” by Ella Eyre and “ethereal.”

[skzinka]

“ DON'T LEAVE ME ” ft. han jisung

timeline : december, 2021

summary : it's time to go. (ft. lua of ateez)

word count : 1.1k>

walking out of the room after her argument with chan, inka furiously rubbed her face to wipe away the tears that flowed from her eyes, ignoring the other members who looked at her with questioning gaze. she hurried to go to her room, slamming the door with a loud crash, before bursting into tears on the floor.

her heart hurting terribly, as if a dagger was piercing her chest — it was the last straw. she felt like a nobody, she felt betrayed, trampled, as if all the confidence in her had been shattered. maybe her reaction was abusive, but she definitely couldn't stand this atmosphere anymore : she was suffocating.

coughing until she lost her lungs while beating her chest repeatedly, the girl was desperately trying to regain a steady breath while she stopped crying. getting up after a few minutes, inka walked to her closet and pulled out a large bag, carelessly placing several clothes inside.

she couldn't take it anymore, it was too much for her.

suddenly, a few barely audible knocks were heard against the door of her room — and although she didn't want to see anyone, he left her no choice and entered the dark room.

« are you okay? » asked her interlocutor, although he thought it was a silly question seeing the pitiful state of his elder's face. inka raised her head for a few seconds, meeting jisung's gaze before sniffing, « no. i'm clearly not okay. »

jisung bit his lower lip, nervous about suddenly entering into inka's room. then, he slid his eyes to her best friend's bed, noticing the bag full of clothes on it, and his heart began to race — but out of fear.

« talk to me, i'm here for you. » he said in a soft, concerned voice, but inka was annoyed, sad, overwhelmed by the whole situation that was eating her up inside. closing her eyes for a few seconds to calm down, inka rubbed the bridge of her nose mechanically. everything she had kept inside her for a whole year was coming out as if a black beast was unleashed — and it was not good at all.

kalaya was the kind of girl who kept everything to herself, until the day her tolerance gauge reaches its limit and she explodes. suffering alone in her corner was definitely not the best of her ideas, but she was like that after all : keep everything to herself so as not to worry anyone.

but now she had shed too many tears and had allowed too many inappropriate things to happen, it was time for her to show that she deserved better.

a sigh left her lips as she dropped her body onto her bed, burying her head in her hands, « the thing is, i don't feel like i'm a member of stray kids anymore, jisung. »

jisung thought his heart was going to give out when he heard his elder's statement — he didn't think she felt that bad. obviously, she looked so much more worse than a previous years ago, but now her sadness was increasingly felt. inka was always someone he admired : a strong and persevering girl who never gave up despite all the difficulties she may have encountered. helpful, always there for others, putting the well-being of her loved ones before her own all the time. inka was amazing. jisung sometimes dreamed of being like her. but at the moment, all he could see was a young girl destroyed by a situation of which she was the one and only victim. she had endured all this alone, locked up every day in her bubble of bad vibes, while putting on a brave face in front of people, not to leave a single trace of her weakness to appear.

now, she was at a point of no return, where only pain could be felt in every particle of her body.

the youngest of the two felt bad, helpless, not knowing what to say or do to relieve her, comfort her. he was speechless, almost paralyzed by the fear of saying one wrong thing, and risk breaking her even more.

« i no longer have the faith to continue. i give up. » — inka's words completely crushed the young man, the latter feeling a huge panic growing in all his being. this whole story had gone too far. he felt helpless, everything was out of control. the young girl got up suddenly, closing furiously her bag of clothes before putting on her jacket.

she was ready to leave when jisung's hand grabbed her wrist, making her turn to face him. the thai girl could read the fear in his eyes, an anguish crackling in the depths of his irises. inka looked desolate, her eyes penetrating jisung's soul, which seemed to be losing his bearings one after the other.

« sungie, let me go. » but the boy's grip tighten around her wrist, his cold trembling hand electrifying her skin, « please. »

« noona, don't leave me. » — the crack in his voice made inka's blood run cold. he looked unsettled, lost, scared, like an abandoned puppy, it was the first time she had seen him so vulnerable, and being the cause of his torment broke her already bruised heart. it was an unexpected situation between the two young adults, who were clearly not used to be in such a tense and tragic atmosphere. but despite the obvious desire of kalaya to take him in her arms and comfort him, it was time for her to finally think of herself first.

then, whispering a little sorry to him, big tears running down her cheeks, she got rid of his grip and left the dorm without another word. jisung stood here for a moment in front of the now closed door, silently crying and praying that this was just a terrible nightmare.

after many minutes of driving, not saying a word to her manager who didn't dare to question her, inka finally found herself at the door of her one and only escape road.

« inka? » lua's voice reached the ears of the brunette who suddenly felt her lip shaking furiously, and then, she sniffed, holding her bag against her as if to protect herself from everything around her, before asking in a broken voice, « can i stay here for a few days, please? »

her best friend instantly agreed, and it didn't take long for inka to burst into tears in her arms, clinging to her as if she were her last hope. her heart was hurting so much, so it was satisfying to know that someone still had complete sincerity towards her.

✧⠁taglist : @invuwrld @writerblock-sucks @mynameisnotlaura @alyszaen @felixsbrat @alixnsuperstxr

[dmagedgoods]

There was this writing prompt in the wotr fandom, to describe why the KC loves the LI they chose, and I think I'm too late to the party, but since I didn’t post any writing for a very long time, well, I guess I just leave it here. It’s very rough and unpolished though.

~

"You maneuvered through the political shoals most elegantly, there is no denying it."

As always, she managed to make even a well-aimed compliment sound like a secret insult.

"You think me a usurper, don’t you, Lady Konomi?"

"This kind of candor would be inappropriate, my lord."

Her fork found its way to her half-empty plate. She ate the way she spoke: Stilted and with finicky consideration – allowing all too clear insights into her preferences and dislikes. He still had to get used to seeing her at least attempt to make use of her so-called diplomatic skills instead of only promoting them.

"But yes, I do."

A smirk played across his lips, amusement, almost delight. There it was. He enjoyed the confirmation that some things would never change.

"You must forgive me, but you ask us to put our faith, the wellbeing of this whole country, in an ambitious stranger.”

“A stranger, even now? I failed to prove myself in your eyes?” The calm amusement had not left his tone and he took a sip of his wine.

“As a military leader? You did without the slightest doubt. It is by no means my intention to disregard your impressive achievements. But to Mendev itself, with all its history and entanglements? I’m still of the belief that the successor of our dear queen Galfrey should be a member of the countries elite, not a visitor from Absalom.”

A visitor. He raised his brow.

“Though I admit, I underestimated you when we first met. I didn't recognize your skill and … determination."

"I know and love this country, Landy Konomi, and I was trained and educated for this very purpose: to rule."

"No matter the price, I assume?"

"No matter the exertion it costs."

"And no matter the tools, as it turns out. Although, observing your methods, I would have expected you to pick the one standing at your side with greater care. You want his name, I am aware, but with the reputation you gained, you could take your pick among other influential noble families of Mendev without choosing the worst rake this country has to offer."

“The Arendae name will be of immense value,” he admitted openly and in complete calmness while putting his empty glass down on the table and giving the waiter a gesture. “Barely any other name in Mendev carries the same weight.”

“This move leaves us with this dangerous wastrel on the throne you’ll share.”

“A throne he is the next in line for – without me in the picture as well.”

“A right he would never claim without you in the picture.”

“Maybe so,” The waiter refilled his glass with graceful routine and silently left them again. “And it would be a tremendous loss for Mendev and its people.”

Konomi looked at him with undisguised discontentment.

“It’s not a disguise,” she observed. “You actually have a high opinion of him.”

“The highest. Or I would never have fallen in love with him.”

“But …” A hint of genuine surprise lay on her features. “But why?”

He leaned back and crossed his legs.

“You don’t observe, I’m afraid. You think in categories and clichés, but you don’t see him. – Not even in the field you call your profession. His wit, his broad knowledge, his charm and courage, all of it allows him to disarm and maneuver political allies and opponents alike. It’s remarkable to watch and a pity he likes to disguise his qualities. Nonetheless, I love him for those remarkable features he hides as much as for this endearing mask.

I love him for the obvious things, his eloquence, his taste, his intelligence. But even those seemingly superficial things go much deeper: It feels good to be with him, it feels like belonging.”

Konomi listened attentively without interrupting him, curious for more, it seemed, and so he continued:

“I love him for his lightness that makes every burden disappear, for his humour, as dark as it will get, the offended faces of those around him who can’t even tell when he is joking and when he becomes serious, for the way he bathes in their reactions.”

“Quite despicable,” she commented.

“You think so? I cherish his skillful, shameless provocations. But even more his shining passion for life itself. He enjoys it in remarkable ways and every single day. It’s intriguing. It’s inspiring.”

A little smile appeared on his face.

“I love him for the things we have in common – in upbringing, our hobbies, vulnerabilities we prefer not to show and if we do …, well, then never easily. At the same time I love our differences with an equal amount of passion. He complements me, opens my eyes to new points of view, corrects me in anything I have been too sure about. Every once in a while, I think that he may know me a little too well.” No one before had ever made an effort to go that deep. – While, of course, he’d vehemently pretend not to. “He understands and even in cases he doesn’t …” The smile on his lips turned into sobriety while he searched the words for an emotion too big to be captured by sentences and his little speech. “He is at my side, there for me, no matter what it takes and he has proven it over and over again during the crusade.

I love him for his courage, for his deep loyalty, for the moments the good in him becomes so strong he can’t hide it, but also for those where the cruelty wins over. He wants me as I am, the inconvenient parts as well, and I want every facet of him, the bright and the dark. What we build we build together. And what scared him in the beginning of our journey became his true freedom. Our true freedom.”

Konomi stayed silent for a long time before she eventually cleared her throat. “Well, I have to admit you still surprise me. I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

The amusement was back in his eyes. “Only a chosen few are aware of this little fact.”

“In this case, I feel honored, commander.”

Something in her face – and he couldn’t quite place it – seemed softer than before. She took the menu and started to look for desserts while the waiter came and took their plates.

“And thank you,” she suddenly added, “I may reconsider my opinion about him. Slightly.”

“Please don’t.” He smiled and took his glass. “He would be inconsolable and never forgive me, I fear.”

[deputyysoandso]

I'll be honest about the fact that I didn't like Barbarian—not because it was bad, I just didn't enjoy many of its choices.

But there were aspects I found interesting and obviously have been thinking about, so I can't say it wasn't effective. Mostly I've been thinking about how aspects remind me of Parasite.

Spoilers for both movies below.

Both movies deal with an imbalance of power (class disparity and gender disparity) and show how someone even well meaning and "nice" can abuse that power (the rich Park family is fairly polite and shown sympathetically, and Keith makes some well meaning but inappropriate remarks to Tess).

Both make use of literal different levels in homes to illustrate the descending nature of the characters. In Parasite, the Park family lives at the top in their mansion, the Kim family not quite underground in their half-basement and below them all is the man in the bunker. This is obviously a commentary on their place in society/the economy and how they are viewed in their roles.

In Barbarian the levels represent the men in the film. Keith is mostly fine, just slightly oblivious to how this situation is for Tess. And even once she seems to accept he's not a threat, he still dismisses her legitimate fear after she's seen the basement. She's clearly horrified but he refuses to accept that it's justified and it costs him his life and Tess her freedom.

Keith is the airbnb, the cute little house. Under it is AJ. he's the basement with the horrible room and bed and bucket. AJ is a rapist and therefore a monster in his own right, but in a way that's fairly socially acceptable. He can assault a woman but still feel convinced he's a good person, and rant to his friends about it because people will tolerate rapists like AJ.

The basement, which is terrible enough on its own, leads to the tunnels. The tunnels are Frank, the ultimate monster. A monster so terrible even AJ is disgusted. The monster underneath it all. All these men are represented by the different levels within the house.

The structure of the film in Barbarian mirrors this as well. It's very unusual for a film to introduce major characters so late, and it does this with both AJ and Frank. And I realized it's because it's introducing the men level by level.

At first we meet Keith, in act 1. He's fairly innocuous. The gateway man, if you will. He doesn't make it to act 2.

Act 2 introduces AJ, in his own story. We see him living his own personal nightmare (well deserved) before joining the central story. In act 3 were introduced to Frank. Again, we see his own story for a bit. We watch him shop, watch him stalk that woman. Here the story all ties together, on the final level with Frank. All of this has been his doing.

The final similarity I found is the name. On first viewing you might think the Kim family are the parasites, feeding off the Parks familys money. But maybe it's the other way around, and it's the Park family feeding off their labour. Maybe the Parasite is the guy in the bunker. Maybe not.

With Barbarian there's less debate, as by the end of the film we known for sure Frank is the barbarian (although honestly AJ kind of is too) but at first it may seem to refer to the woman in the tunnels. Certainly she seems monstrous at first, and is extremely violent. But by the end we understand she's just another victim of Frank. The real barbarian isn't a woman made into a monster it's the men who see women as commodities to use.