#because my partner saw it on AO3 anyway

[the-bar-sinister]

"It's not our destiny," Rogers says. "Not mine, or yours."

Shanks is devastated.

"I'm not going to sail with you," Buggy says, "I'm going to be a captain."

Shanks is crushed.

He sails with faceless men on adventures that barely leave an impression. He is waiting. He is marking time.

The moment of destiny that is not his arrives. 

He makes a sacrifice hoping that it counts for something. He loses the last tether keeping his heart in his chest instead. 

Shanks sinks further into the bottle.

So this is destiny.

He is not the traveler. He is the path.

-

AO3 link

[sugoi-and-spice]

perfect, just perfect...

Serial Killer!Dabi x Reader x Serial Killer!Shigaraki

Summary: In which Dabi and Tomura Shigaraki are women-targeting serial killers and do what serial killers do. That’s it. That’s the fic.

CW: Quirkless!AU, Serial Killers/Slashers!AU, Explicit Smut, Non-Con/Rape, Kidnapping, Physical Abuse, Rough Sex, Asphyxiation, Mysoginy, Dead Dove: Do Not FUCKING Eat

A/N: Hey,, remember when I was gonna do a Halloween AU series? Neither do I!! Anyway, here's my first entry in my own event - out of order!! Enjoyyyy. (or not, this one's pretty gnarly ngl lol)

Cross-Posted on AO3

“P-Please… Stop, please…”

A smack. A loud one. Sounded like it was right across the face, and Dabi wouldn’t doubt if it was. Shigaraki really liked to mess up the face.

“Oh come on, you can beg better than that.”

“N-No, I— I…”

“No no — I know you can. You just were begging— begging fucking amazing too. Come on. Do it, you worthless slut.”

Dabi rolled his eyes, taking a drag from his cigarette as he stood watch outside the reconstructed Toyota Hiace they made their base of operations. One they’d gutted the seats out of to make room for a full-size mattress and some metal grating dividing the front seats from the back. 

A killing machine.

They parked it outside the city, in an endless valley of nature only ever occupied by a few off the grid campers. Ones that wouldn’t be suspicious of a lone van and two men in the middle of nowhere. They were also ones who typically had very few connections back home.

Who nobody would miss if they saw too much.

“Oi— I’m talking to you, slut! Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Jesus, this must’ve been the thirtieth time that Shigaraki called her a slut this session. How uncreative could one demented incel be? He’d kind of expected more from the bastard…

Truth be told, he didn’t particularly like his partner in crime. They weren’t friends, they were barely even acquaintances. But they were kindred spirits. Two particularly violent young men who’d met on a particularly violent darknet forum about women.

And the inhumane positions they’d love to put them in.

Of course, just because they both lived for the end result, didn’t mean that they agreed on the journey there. 

Shigaraki was a raging misogynist and by-the-book incel. He despised women, wanted to take revenge on them for everything he felt they did wrong to him. He wanted to make them bleed because he wanted to make them hurt. Because he was full of anger and disgust and hate. 

Dabi was the opposite. He loved women. The unique beauty of every single one, the range of emotions they showed in their darkest, most desperate moments. Emotions he himself was never allowed to show. Ugh, the euphoria of it all. He loved women so much he wanted to see every part of them.

Including their insides.

“Come on you ugly fuck!” Shigaraki snapped from inside the van, “Scream! It’s all you’re fucking good for!”

…Truth be told, Dabi wasn’t sure why exactly he’d partnered up with Shigaraki of all people. He’d been looking for a co-pilot for this sick and twisted little endeavor of his for a while, and there had been many others in the forums who probably would’ve been better fits personality-wise, who seemed more agreeable. Guys who weren’t so picky about the girls they picked, who didn’t grumble and gripe when it came time to finally cleaning up their mess, who didn’t use the “standing watch” excuse when it came to carrying the bodies to the disposal spots. 

Who didn’t put their disgusting fucking feet on his dashboard…

That being said, while they both lived almost exclusively on the other’s last nerve, they also had a strange, almost psychic symbiosis. They balanced each other out. Dabi was emotional and passionate, often getting over-excited by the next prospective victim, moved so intensely by his passion upon seeing a new girl walking down the street or sitting at the bar that he wanted to grab them right there and then. Shigaraki on the other hand was meticulous and paranoid, holding him back until he was absolutely sure that they wouldn’t get caught. 

He kept them careful at the beginning of the kill. 

Whereas Dabi, who truly believed that he held a lot of deep respect for the women they abducted, wanted to be careful with their bodies after the fact. Shigaraki grew bored easily and completely. He often wanted to just dump the bodies down a valley or in a back alley and move onto the next one. A broken toy wasn’t worth another second in his mind. But Dabi wanted better for the girls. He wanted them to have a proper burial. Deep, deep in the ground where nobody else could ever find them. 

He kept them careful at the end of the kill.

Dabi exhaled a long stream of smoke as he considered where their latest little sylph would be buried. They had passed a grove of what looked like magnificent spider lilies on the way out of town.

Maybe he was thinking too much into all this, he kind of had to whenever it was Shigaraki’s turn. The brutish way in which he handled and defiled these girls, it always made Dabi contemplate just what redeeming factor he had ever seen in the guy. 

And then he’d hear them, the screams Shigaraki managed to rip out of their victims. Screams that only came from a level of brutality Dabi would never be able to inflict himself. They were so unique, so beautiful, so perfect . And they were sounds that he’d never be able to hear if it weren’t for Shigaraki.

Truthfully, that alone was worth the endless collection of crushed Monster cans that littered the floor of his van.

It had gotten pretty quiet in there now. The screams, the pleading, even the choked little sobs of self-pity, all muted to nothing. There was only the creaking of tired mattress springs, Shigaraki’s heavy breathing and grunting, and the occasional sound of a slap followed by irritated mumbling. Yeah, she was losing all will to fight. Which meant it was just about time for—

“Oi,” Shigaraki snapped as if on cue, throwing the van door open, “She’s no fun anymore. You take her.”

Dabi took a long last drag of his cigarette, watching as Shigaraki climbed out and readjusted himself in his pants. His partner-in-crime gave him a weirded, disgusted look at the way he took his time.

“What’re you fucking staring at me for? You want me to off her or something?”

 Dabi waved him off, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stepping it out, “Nah, nah. I’m on it.”

“Hop to it then,” Shigaraki barked, crossing his arms and leaning against the passenger door of the van, “We’ve been here long enough already.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Dabi retorted as he stepped into the van.

Shigaraki whipped around, “Get bent!”

“I’m trying to,” Dabi threw right back, slamming the van door closed behind him.

He quickly pulled back his cool once he was inside. It really was amazing how quickly and effectively Shigaraki pissed him off. But he knew he needed to simmer it. He didn’t want to let his own anger and hate slip out too much in front of his newest precious angel. He’d hate to scare her off.

Dabi turned back to her with a small, but reassuring smile, “Hello.” 

Of course, she didn’t respond, didn’t even bother to look at him. 

She laid in more or less the same position he’d left her to Shigaraki in. Arms and legs pulled wide, cuffed to the rods mounted on each side of the van. Her once smooth and spotless skin was now swollen and purple, black and yellow in some places even, where Shigaraki had managed to break a rib and an ankle. Dry blood caked her nose and the corner of her mouth while fresh blood seeped onto the mattress out of recent scratches and cuts Shigaraki had inflicted in a last ditch effort to make her wail again.

None of that bothered him though, quite the opposite actually. He loved a roughed up woman, one at her most natural and vulnerable. It was the beauty that got him into this in the first place. No, what Dabi turned his nose up at was Shigaraki’s loads spilling out of her abused pussy, all onto her raw, reddened thighs and the crumpled tear-stained sheets. 

Ugh, see this is why he’d said no when Shigaraki asked if they should get an apartment together. The motherfucker never cleaned up after himself.

“P-Please…”

Dabi turned his attention back to her face, to her eyes, dull and lifeless, staring right through the back wall of the van.

“Just kill me already…”

Oh, this sweet thing, he thought, tilting his head at her sympathetically.

He climbed onto the mattress next to her then, resting a hand gently on her hip, careful not to put any pressure on the bruises littered there. She didn’t even flinch when he did it. She was that far gone.

“Kill you?” he asked, curiosity far from feigned.

“Aren’t you those serial killers that have been on the news lately? The ones that—” she couldn’t even finish. The fate that she knew of being too much to leave her throat.

“Huh. Are we now?” he said, mostly to himself as he had a real epiphany from those words. So they were serial killers, were they? 

Yeah, he could work with that…

She buried her head into the mattress, trying to muffle the dry sobs from ducts that had long gone barren.

“Please, if you’re gonna do it then just do it already! I can’t go on anymore! I can’t take it…”

He ran the back of his hand slowly, whisperingly down her cheek, “Talk to me beautiful. Tell me how I can make this better.”

This finally got something out of her. A snort of sick, stupid amusement, weak and wheezy.

“God, what fucking game are you two playing? Some sick good killer, bad killer shtick?”

Dabi smiled. She sure was spunky. Even now. What a lovely quality.

“No,” he breathed, dusting feather light kisses down her neck, her chest, that sweet, soft tummy… “No games.”

He buried his nose into the crux her thigh, reveling in the heat and tremble of her raw, abused thighs.

“W-What are you doing?!” she gasped, a whole new flavor of fear coating her voice.

“Just relax,” he purred, kissing a path all the way to her center, “I’m not gonna hurt you…”

She cried out as he licked up the length of her cunt, flicking the stud in his tongue against her clit playfully when he got there. She tried to move her hips away from him, still completely baffled and terrified by not knowing what he was going to do to her, but thanks to her restraints, the struggle only ended up pushing her hips closer to Dabi’s lips in a grind motion. A wanting motion. 

It spurred him on to pleasure her further as the delusion of her reciprocation had him falling utterly in love.

Shigarai’s spunk was still slipping out of her, heavy and salty on his tongue as he buried it deeper inside her, but that didn’t matter. Her own sweetness overpowered it, those resistant sobs overpowering all of his senses, sending him into a delirium of pleasure.

Fuck, how much he wanted to throw her legs up over his shoulders, coil his arms tight around her and devour her, but he resisted. He knew how raw and wounded she was, and all he wanted from her now was a fraction of the bliss that she was giving him.

“P-Please! I don’t— nngh! ”

Her sounds were brand new now — constant choked sobs of despair and self-hatred over the way her body reacted against her will. She was so raw and oversensitive from Shigaraki’s brutal treatment, Dabi’s own gentle, devoted ministrations had her ankles straining up painfully against her restraints as she came in mere minutes.

Dabi pulled away, a crooked, love-drunk smile on his face as he watched her trembling chest rise and fall, listened to the sweet serenade of her wheezing breaths.

He hummed happily as he pulled himself back up to her level. He cupped his hand gently along her cheek.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

She snapped back to him, anger tearing violently through her “afterglow”.

“ Fuck you .” she quite literally spat, a newfound fire within her that set his own body ablaze.

Dabi brought a thumb to his cheek, stroking the spit she’d hurled at him to the corner of his own mouth. His tongue reached to meet it, and he shuddered as both of her tastes mingled on his palate.

Fuck, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He quickly back onto his haunches, trying to not let his desperation to be inside her rush or roughen his movements. He still wanted her to enjoy this, but it was taking every bit of self-control he could muster not to blow his load over the sound of her voice alone.

“W-Wait!” she yelped out, as she felt him line himself up at her entrance, “You said you wouldn’t hurt me!”

“I won’t sweetheart,” he breathed, easing his cockhead in slowly, “I promise this won’t hurt.”

“But it does! You doing this now— you’re hurting me!”

He groaned as her heat completely engulfed him. Between the mix of her own arousal and Shigaraki’s, and the desperate pulsing of her insides, post-orgasm, he barely even had to push his hips. 

“There’s no need to lie now, your body’s completely giving you away,” he grinned, dropping his forehead to rest against hers, “Your pussy is sucking me right in.”

She choked out a sob as he rocked out of her just barely, then buried himself again, somehow deeper than before.

“ Fuck —” he groaned, “I couldn’t pull out if I tried. Your body just wants me that bad. Doesn’t it baby?”

She tried to stifle a moan as his soft yet sturdy thrusts hit that perfect angle inside of her. She managed to keep the pleasure of the sound locked in the base of her throat, allowing out only a stilted and very unladylike grunt in its place.

The horrid little sound didn’t put Dabi off in the slightest though. If anything, it endeared him. He smiled, almost giddily, as he watched that strain and struggle coarse through her. She really was perfect no matter what she did, wasn’t she?

They all were, after all.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” he urged her again between thrusts, “Do you like it like this? Does it feel good?”

“N-No, it doesn’t…” she whimpered out hoarsely, that momentary fire from before quickly extinguishing as she felt her dignity once again slipping away “Just stop…”

Dabi’s brows pinched disappointedly, hips slowing to a near-stop. 

“You don’t like it like this? Soft and sweet?”

She looked back up at him, confusion creasing her own cute little face.

His hand on her hip started to tighten, nails digging deliberately into the meat of her hip, “Maybe then you liked Shigaraki’s way better…”

Her eyes widened.

“Well I can certainly do that too,” he breathed, hip suddenly snapping painfully into her.

“N-No!” she yelped, “No, please I—!” she squeezed her eyes closed tight, trying to hold back her tears, as a particularly rough thrust jostled her broken rib painfully, “I want it soft! It felt so good what you were doing before! Please! ”

“Are you sure?” Dabi tilted his head, pounding hips having yet to slow, “Don’t just say that because you think it’s what I want. This is supposed to be good for the both of us.”

“I-I’m not! Really, I mean it! I want it soft, please!” she cried out, “Please! Fuck me soft, g-gentle! Just—!”

His hips finally eased to a soft roll.

“...yeah?”

She opened her eyes then, and instantly her blood ran cold. His voice was soft and romantic, he’d gotten that part of his act down to a science, but clearly he hadn’t quite figured out how to keep that sadistic fervor from his face. 

His eyes were wide, pupils blown. He was clearly trying to keep his smile even and comforting, but he couldn’t fight the way those corners twitched higher and higher, teeth grinding and showing through harder and clearer. 

Just a horrible face. 

This man was clearly no more a voice of reason than his more blatantly violent partner outside. He too was clearly deranged, a powder keg. Completely unpredictable.

And that made him a thousand times scarier.

Dabi leaned in closer to her, fighting to keep the manic tremble from his voice, “You want me to make love to you?” 

She gulped hard, desperate to keep the absolute terror from her voice, “Y-Yes. Please… M-Make love to me…”

He stared down at her for a long moment, utterly reveling in those words long enough for her to start panicking that maybe she’d said the wrong thing. 

But thankfully — god, she couldn’t believe she was thinking that — they were exactly the words he wanted to hear. He dropped his head down into her chest, groaning unabashedly as he began to hump into her again, slower for sure, but also deeper. With his entire body and being.

“Fuck, yeah… Yeah baby. Anything you want. I’ll do anything you fucking want…”

She choked out a joyless laugh at that. Anything she wanted, huh? What a fucking joke.

“You’re so good, fuck— perfect . And you too— it’s good for you? Come on tell me baby. I wanna hear how good I make you feel—”

“Uh-huh, it’s good…” she said flatly as she slipped into dissociation.

She stared up at the same tear in the headliner she’d tried to focus on by the end of Shigaraki’s torture, thinking about how oddly shaped it was. Those kinds of tears were usually outright holes, maybe with a flap of fabric hanging off of it. Or maybe it’d be just a little tear, a small line practically unnoticeable in the dim light of this van. But this one was different. Long and unnatural, it almost looked like a big Frankenstein surgical stitch. Or like the dermal piercings running up her captor’s cheeks—

Fuck. Her eyes fell back on her captors flushed, blissed out face. The electric blue of his eyes, the babbling growls spilling from his lips. She was having a much harder time tuning the pleasure out with this man than she’d had tuning out the pain with the previous one, and she didn’t know why.

Maybe it was because he was kind of her type. That’s exactly what she’d thought when he leaned out of the car window to ask her for directions after all. Watching him move over her like this, leaning down to catch her lips passionately with his own more frequently as time went on she couldn’t help but picture an alternate universe. 

One where he really had been asking for directions to the beach. Where he’d been alone in his car rather than having a freak friend in the back, lying in wait. And where she’d been standing on the well-trafficked main street just a couple blocks down instead of in front of the empty alleyway she’d been smoking a blunt in when he’d stopped. 

A universe where they’d flirted and hit it off and exchanged phone numbers and eventually he’d taken her on a date rather than just taken her. Where these sweet nothings and pleasurable rolls of his hips were accompanied with champagne and room service rather than rope and broken bones.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pictured it all, what a wonderful life this could’ve been.

“Shhh, shh, shhh,” he cooed, “It’s okay. You’re so perfect, it’s okay…”

But that only caused her to sob harder, face reddening voice straining as she wailed uncontrollably. She didn’t even notice Dabi’s hand slipping up along her body and up to the base of her neck.

His thumb settled snug into that soft, sensitive dip of her throat.

God, she was crying so hard now, she couldn’t breathe.

And then he started to squeeze.

Wait, no, really. She couldn’t fucking breathe —!

She gasped out suddenly, arms instinctually shooting forward to try and force his hand off, but she was once again denied by her restraints. She quickly shifted gears, thrashing her body up and down wildly. And for a moment, she did loosen his grip.

But then he brought his second hand to her throat, pushing her deeper into the mattress.

“Perfect,” he growled through the steady snapping of his hips, “So fucking perfect…”

Her throat bobbed and begged as he constricted his hands tighter, getting lost in the song of her voice getting steadily higher, weaker, until she couldn’t form a word at all, could only gurgle and croak desperately. 

“Oh yeah, just like that. Be good for me baby,” he groaned, “Be good…”

He couldn’t say that this was the best part of these excursions, he savored every moment of it after all. 

…But there was something particularly special about these last few moments. 

It was so rare that anybody actually got to witness them, let alone experience them with their own hands — this perfect feeling of her body both tightening and going pliant around him, stiff and spasming, not to mention the view of it all that sent him barrelling frantically towards his release.

Fuck, she was so pretty! The way her drool spilled out her mouth, all gurgled and frothy. That lovely shade of blue she was starting to turn. The rabid fear that filled those eyes before they started to roll back — fuck even the pink undersides of her eyes were cute. He wondered what the backs of them, the optic nerves, looked like. He was sure they’d be adorable. 

He couldn’t wait to see.

[neysaadept]

heyyyy,

I LOVE your Emily fics and only just saw you’re taking requests!! Congrats on the followers.💗 I was wondering if you could do an Emily/Reader fic maybe with the prompts “they didn’t deserve you” and “why are you doing this”, (early days in the relationship) where it’s Christmas time and Emily mentions in passing how she always spends Christmas alone cause it’s too much to go to her parents and reader decides to surprise her by making dinner and bringing it to her on Christmas Day! Emily is confused because she’s never had this kind of care or treatment and reader says she deserves it ( maybe first time saying ily?)

anyways just an idea and NO pressure if it’s stupid lmao! Ily

thanks

Please let me know what you think of this. It got really carried away and I really hope you liked what I did with this. *hides*

Take a Chance

Emily Prentiss x Female Nurse!Reader

Tags - No use of Y/N, swearing, angst, fluff, meet cute, first Christmas. Minors DNI

Summary - Please refer to the ask for summary!

AO3

Word Count: 4.4k

As a nurse, you had few rules for who were out of bounds in dating. Doctors are a big hell no. Yes, it seems romantic and dreamy to fall for some sexy, brilliant, doctor but there is too much overlapping and fucked up hours to connect that things can fizzle out so quickly once you realize there is no compatibility. And god forbid you end up having to work with one another? So, so awkward after a breakup.

And yes, you’ve been there and done that. Never, ever, again. You moved out of ICU to have less contact with the intensivist, Dr. Vanessa Hyland, and the ER has been headhunting you for a while now. You took the opportunity and ran. It is a change of pace, but it had the same adrenaline vice that you crave working and triaging the unknown that walk through MedStar Washington Memorial that was close to the VA*.

Your exclusion list also includes paramedics, firefighters, police officers, and anyone in your department. You didn’t want someone that had similar bizarre hours as you and that you might end up seeing at work if shit hit the fan. Healthcare was a small world, and you didn’t need your exes in your immediate orbit.  You had enough drama at work and for the last year, the ER has become your work home and it has pushed you to pursue your license as a nurse practitioner. You had one year to go and were currently a resident.

You are career focused, intelligent and driven which currently made dating a low priority for you. Since the fling with Dr. Hyland fell through, you focus on yourself and enjoy being single since no one of genuine interest caught your fancy. And you stopped looking.

You didn’t realize your world was about to flip upside down when you knock on the window to Bay 3 in the ER and a deep voice said to come in.

That definitely didn’t sound like an Emily Prentiss to you. That must’ve been her partner speaking per the report given to you that he came along for the ambulance ride.

“Morgan, I can speak for myself …” came the snippy reply confirming your suspicions.

You pull the curtain back and take in the two feds in the room. The tall, dark, and muscular handsome fellow was hunched over the side rail before he saw you. “Hey, Doc. Mind telling princess here that she needs to behave?”

Your eyes dart to the woman on the cart who was squinting her best death glare at him. “I am behaving. I came here, didn’t I?”

With the concussion the female fed has, the bright lights of the room weren’t helping which made her glare pathetically cute. You turn the lights down, which the staff should have done in the first place.

“Better?” you say with an understanding smile.

She nods thankfully.

“Also, not a doctor. NP in training.” You walk in and introduce yourself. “So, shall I call you Emily or Agent Prentiss?”

She looks at you funny.

“Some feds have a stick up their ass about titles.”

“I definitely do not have a stick up my ass. Unless you count him?” She points a thumb at Morgan in all seriousness.

His face falls playfully with feign hurt, clutching at his chest. “Ouch, girl.”

“Hm,” you look thoughtfully between them and could feel the deeply rooted respect and love for these two partners. You decide to play along and return your attention to Emily. “Well, I’m sorry to say we don’t have a surgical consultant that specializes in that.” Then you wink. “I can always call security and throw him out if ya like.”

“Hey! Wait a second.” He lowers his hand accusingly. “You’re all not playing nice now.”

Emily chuckles. “I guess he can stay. He’s kinda my ride anyway.”

“Duly noted. Now, to business. May I?” You gesture to Emily’s head as you put on gloves. She nods and you start examining her scalp by gently running your fingers along her hair to smooth back to getting a better look. “The officer that was driving with you is doing OK. Same issue with head trauma after the T-bone. Do you remember hitting your head on anything before the airbags deployed?”

“Well, I was driving. Then we got the call on our suspect. Then we … we got the call on our suspect …” she shakes her head, wincing, trying to recall the memory before impact.

“Hey, if you don’t remember, it’s fine. I’m sure you know that. Doubt this is your first concussion?” You stop for a moment to make eye contact with Emily who rolls her eyes in affirmation. “Alright, well… you do have the start of a nice bruise here.”

You gently brush over the injury mid-scalp about halfway up from her left ear. “How’s the headache?”

“Pounding”, as she winces from your touch.

“Any nausea or vomiting?”

“No.”

“Dizziness or lightheadedness?”

“Nope.”

“Double or blurry vision?”

“A little. Tho it’s an improvement for Morgan’s looks.”

He whistles, shaking his head. “I’m letting that one slide since you’re suffering.”

You chuckle. “Alright, let me take a quick look at the rest of you. Anything else hurting that isn’t Morgan’s heart?”

That made her laugh as you pull the stethoscope over your head. “No. Nothing else hurts.

“Ladies, I’m starting to take offense now.” But he was all smiles.

You knew she suffered minor injuries from the ambulance report – contusions and small lacerations from shattered glass that didn’t require stitching. The officer on the passenger seat got cut worse being on the side of impact. You then listen to her heart, lungs and abdomen and palpate her stomach after making sure nothing was tender. Then did the same with her limbs testing neurological strength and any sore spots that may have been missed.

“Okay, Emily. Let’s get that CT done of your head.” You put the stethoscope back around your neck before placing your hands in your lab coat pockets. “If that comes back clean, I’ll release you home …” You see she’s about to ask a question you’re already anticipating. “… and no work until you’re medically cleared.”

She pouts rather prettily. You wish you didn’t notice. “And that also means no pretending to be cleared and going to work either.”

Morgan shakes his head and half smiles down at his partner. “Busted.”

“Had a feeling.” Morgan smirks between the two of you. “I’ll get those orders in.” You check your watch. “Should be done within the hour and we’ll go from there. If you need me, just call.”

Morgan steps around the bed to shake your hand. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” And you turn to look at Emily with a firm tone and playful eyes. “You behave.”

She huffs and settles back against the pillow, but Emily was fighting with a smile. To you it appears she was grumbling under her breath which was oh so common with law officials. When you leave the room, Morgan looks at Prentiss with a knowing look. In her state, she was genuinely confused. “What?”

“You’re making heart eyes with the nurse.”

“What? I … wasn’t. No way I was doing … whatever that thing you said I’m doing. It didn’t happen,” she says with a scowl.

“Heart eyes,” he reminds her.

 “Whatever,” she snips. “Has to be the head injury.”

“Uh huh.” He looks back at the curtains then at his partner. “She’s your type too …”

“I’m not having this conversation right now,” she says, stopping Morgan from talking further about the nurse that was definitely her physical type. Plus, you were clearly smart and had a fun side at the bedside that made her smile.

Morgan smirks, seeing the dopey look. He knows she’s thinking about you. “When you’re better, then.”

“I’ll probably won’t remember this stupid conversation then either.” She ends the topic by crossing her arms and looking away from Derek. A perfect model of a petulant Prentiss.

Emily does hates that he was right. The question that remains is if she was going to do anything about it after Morgan’s teasing that would inevitably come at a later date.

Two weeks went by since you discharged Agent Emily Prentiss and life went on. You were working a double today in the ER.

“Let’s get a bag of O neg going on Bay 2 and prep endo for a scope.” You put the orders in and use the inter-hospital chat through the EMR* with Dr. Aorsen who is the GI specialist on call. Poor patient had a bleeding ulcer.

One of the techs calls your name and you answer without looking up, continuing to type up the H&P* on the patient so there will be no delays in the procedure. You answer with a pen dangling between your teeth. “Yeah?”

“An Agent Prentiss is here to see you.”

The pen drops from your lips as you swivel your chair around to look at the disheveled tech in surprise. “Uh, what?”

You couldn’t have heard that right.

He throws a thumb over his shoulder and nods in confirmation. “Fed named Prentiss is here to see you.”

Your eyes dart around the room trying to figure out why she is here and come up empty. “Is she here by herself?”

“Yep.”

“O … kay. Yeah. I’ll see what she needs. Tell her I need ten minutes to finish something before I can see her. Thanks, Marc.”

“Kay.” He wanders off and you finish your necessary charting. You weren’t going to drop everything to speak with her just yet when a patient needs your attention. Though your mind couldn’t grasp why she was here. You sent over the medical report on Agent Prentiss to the FBI the same week you discharged her. Nothing was out of the ordinary in your report. She suffered a typical concussion and filled out all the workers’ compensation documentation for the feds. It was way worse than filling out the damn metro police claims, and it took over an hour to finish.

Once you have all the necessary orders and documentation for your patient to go to endo, you meander through the nurses’ station and down the hall to where Emily is waiting. She currently has her hands behind her back which shows off the gun holstered to her hip. The white button down was under a black blazer that made her professionally beautiful and it was nice to see her be more casual from the waist down with jeans and black work boots.

And then there you are in your navy-blue scrubs, lab coat, hair up in a messy bun, and a stethoscope hanging around your neck. She definitely looks put together and was easy on your tired eyes.

Emily is distracting herself as she waits for you by taking in all the scenery around her from laundry bins to rolling medical equipment. But when she sees you, she visibly perks up and shifts on her feet.

You wonder if Emily is nervous but that is ridiculous. You push that thought out of your mind as you smile to greet her. “This is a surprise, Agent Prentiss.”

“Ah, Emily’s just fine. This isn’t anything official.” She says it a bit too quickly that makes your brows raise up in question.

“Well, that’s good. I was wondering.” You look her up and down and see that’s she’s recovered nicely, even if she isn’t relaxed speaking with you. Her hands are still behind her back. “You look well.”

“So, do you,” she says a bit too quickly when your eyes narrow in thought to her response. “I mean … for working long hours are the ER. It’s not easy.”

Your head moves to the left in curiosity as to where this was going. “Definitely not, but I love it. Wouldn’t be anywhere else. Though …” you bring your arm up and slowly gesture towards back down the hall “ … I’m sorry to be abrupt but with patients waiting … can you let me know how I can help you, Emily?”

You see her look mortified at keeping you waiting and that is when her arms swing around to her front, one crossing her abdomen. She was definitely nervous, but it is unclear why.

“Yes, I did want to thank you and see …” She nervously licks her lower lip, and your eyes are inevitably drawn to the motion.

You were hanging on her next words. The moment between you is filled with the sounds of electronic beeps, a patient moaning in confusion, and then the old Batman TV show theme goes off alerting your hospital that an ambulance was calling in a patient on the emergency line affectionately dubbed ‘The Bat Phone’ by the hospital. That seemingly jolts her back from looking at anything but you.

“ … well, see … you,” she says bashfully.

Your eyes widen. “See me?” You sound as confused as you appear.

“Yes,” Emily confirms with a hesitant nod.

Your eyes dart upwards in continued bewilderment before settling on her hopeful-looking brown orbs. “Look, I’m a complete idiot right now. Why did you need to see me?” You smile brightly with encouragement.

That seemingly provides the necessary motivation to be direct. “Yes. Socially. As in … dinner …?” Though Emily did end the last part awkwardly and began to flick at her thumbnail that was lying against her thigh.

Now with Emily’s intentions clear, you take a step back in wonder. “You’re asking me … out?”

Seeing that you took a step back makes Emily frown, thinking you weren’t interested. “Well, I was …”

“And you came here. To ask me out.” Your continuation of confusion is making her slowly back up towards the exit.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I …” she loosens the hold she has on her stomach and gracelessly swings her arms as she is about to turn, and hits the linen cart, causing a pile of towels and washcloths to tumble onto the floor. “Oh my god! I am so sorry!”

She crouches down to pick them up as you do the same but sliding to your knees. This wasn’t your first laundry pile up in the ER. “Hey, it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not.” Emily’s pale face was flushing prettily, and it makes you smile. “I made a mess.”

“Sweetie, this isn’t even close to a mess in my ER. Ever drop a commode?” That makes her laugh and diffuses the tension between you a little, but she was avoiding eye contact with you.

You both work at cleaning up when the two of you end up grabbing a towel at the same time. There was a quick game of tug of war and that finally brought her eyes up to see you. She was nervous and expectant, ready to run off in a heartbeat.

You give her your answer. “Yes.”

Her head leans in with disbelief. “Yes … what?” She asks hesitantly, needing confirmation.

“Yes, I’ll go out with you.” And just like that, you broke your rule about dating officers. There was something enigmatically irresistible about her and Emily mustered the courage to come down to your place of work to ask you out. How sweet is that?

Emily is too fucking adorable as her face works through the shock of what you said. “Oh … kay.” She nods. “Good. I mean …” She grins wide and bright. “Great.”

You both remain on the floor for a couple of beats before you lower your head, eyes studying Emily with a coy look. “Does this mean I can have the towel back?”

She busts out laughing and finally lets go.

That was a little over a month ago and you found out on your first date that it was her partner, Morgan, that helped talk Emily through her concerns. She explained how he was not just a good friend but was also like a brother to her. You were happy that Emily took this chance, and it was the happiest time of your life. You never thought that you’d find a partner that was able to understand the demands of your job and education by someone not in healthcare. Emily’s job is mentally, physically and emotionally draining like yours and despite the differences in careers, you understand the depts of humanity. Emily saw the worst of it and tried to bring the criminals to justice or at least provide closure for the victims and families. You do the same in your own way trying to save as many lives as you can as well as being the one to break bad news to people who loved your patients fiercely. You also saw the worst in a different way – shootings, stabbings, rapes, protests gone ugly. You and DC metro had a lot to talk about a lot of time. But the times you make a child smile when feeling terrible, or provide information that eases the mind of a patient that was so scared of why they were sick, or even the simple bedside talk to show you were a human being that truly cared, it was worth all the shit you dealt with.

But in between the long hours and when Emily was out of town, you make time for one another. Simple dinners, going out to the movies, long walks discussing nothing and everything, but the best was when Emily took you to the Smithsonian to see the staff carefully place a Santa hat on the life size brontosaurus display since Christmas was just around the corner. You didn’t even know they did that, and Emily was so pleased with herself at seeing your face light up in wonder. You of course took a selfie together after it was placed, but it ended up being at an awkward angle where you both were laughing as you were pointing to the dinosaur.

When you weren’t together, you had long talks over the phone and constant texts when Emily was on a case to make sure she was doing alright, which she did for you too! You both cared about your workaholic selves and kept reminding each other to take a break, eat and drink more than just beer when off the clock. Emily was able to keep work at work when in the moment with you but you could hear the weight of Emily’s job straining her voice. A hint of raw insight to her true feelings. You never push. Your relationship was still new, and you both were still learning one another.

When Christmas came, you were coming off a sixteen-hour shift that started right before 7am Christmas Eve. You were exhausted, the status quo for any resident, but you were also determined. This was your first Christmas with Emily, and you wanted to make it special. She admitted that the relationship she has with her mother is complicated and didn’t need, nor want, to show her face at one of her mother’s extravagant Christmas parties. Emily would just be shown off for propriety’s sake. It was easier being home alone with leftovers that Rossi made on Christmas Eve of pasta, seafood, and amazing Italian beef and sausages right after midnight. Between that, the homemade cookies gifted to her by Garcia, and a six pack of Stella bottled beer, Emily settled in for the day watching Die Hard because it is, and always we be, a Christmas movie. If you wanted to disagree with her, Emily was ready to fight.

By mid-afternoon, John McClane is crawling through the air vents and iconically complaining about ‘Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs…’ line when there’s a knock at Emily’s door. This confuses her because she wasn’t expecting anyone and you were at the hospital working. You told her that this morning over the phone during a break that, unsurprisingly, the hospital was short staffed, and they needed you. She put down Garcia’s festively colored frosted chocolate cookies and went to see who it was.

Which is why when she looks out through the peephole of the door, she gasps and quickly starts unlocking the door. She holds out her arms in surprise at the sight of you and speaks an octave higher in greeting. “What are you doing here?! You said you had to work tonight!”

She was all smiles seeing you … and you weren’t wearing your work clothes. You have on jeans, an ugly Christmas sweater that said ‘Fabulously Grinchy’ and arms full of bags. Emily was distinctively not festive on purpose with grey shorts and a baggy Yale sweatshirt. Even the black slippers were humdrum. It empowers you to see this and that you made the right decision to surprise her this way.

“Well, I lied,” you explain as she takes some of the bags from you. “Surprise!”

She steps aside to let you in and smells the familiar scents of pasta, sauce and bread. “What did you do?” she asks cautiously.

“I made Christmas dinner for us.” You beam, spinning around carefully in the living room with your arms out to display the bags. “Just need to warm it all up.

As you really did have to work long hours at the hospital, you enjoyed Skyping with your parents who lived of town while making homemade manicotti. It was your tradition to cook together, and it was nice to do it together this way. Thankfully you still had some frozen homemade pasta sauce that you could use and not be considered a heathen to your family because no daughter of theirs was going to serve their girlfriend pasta sauce from a jar.

“Oh my god,” she says your name and follows you quickly into the kitchen, trying to catch up. “You … you really didn’t have to go through all this trouble. And, really, why are you doing this? You’ve gotta be so tired after working a long shift. You should be relaxing.” Emily knew you did work today since she heard the intercom and all the various beeps, whirls and whistles of a hospital.

You left the bags on the island counter and start fiddling with the oven controls. “Eh, I’ve had worse.” You smirk over your shoulder. “So have you. Therefore, we deserve a nice Christmas not alone. Now. … ” you start looking for oven mitts and utensils by pulling out drawers and opening cabinets. You’ve been here once before and don’t have the lay of the land yet where Emily keeps everything.

What you didn’t know is that Emily is standing by the island counter with a firm grip on the edge because she is feeling a powerful rush of affection for you and a profound sense of guilt. She swallows hard and almost jerks with her movements in trying to find words to address you.

“Hey, Emily? Where’s the spatula? I don’t need to whisk anything, and you got like, three of them here.” With no answer, you turn around with the whisks in hand and a goofy smile which soon falls into a look of concern. Emily was staring at you with watery eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, quickly setting aside the whisks that roll around the counter. One drops and bounces off the floor, but you don’t care. You place your hands around Emily’s shoulders and rub soothing circles. “Talk to me, please.”

Her face scrunches to the side, still struggling with guilt. “You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re tired. You should be sleeping. Or resting. Or just –“

You cut her off by gently cupping her face. Your thumbs continue their gentle stroking along Emily’s cheeks. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.” You smile with sincerity. “Only place I wanna be.”

“Fucking sap,” she says, curling her hands around your forearms. You both naturally bring your foreheads together in that moment and feel Emily’s shaky inhalation of breath. “I don’t deserve this.” She feels the need to clarify. “You.”

You close your eyes and ask nonjudgmentally. “Why?”

“Because I’m gonna mess it up. I always find a way to do it. Even if it’s not exactly me.” She sighs. “Like work, or my mother…”

“Hey, don’t do that.” You bring your hands down while lifting your head to gaze into Emily’s eyes. “Anticipating. We just gotta take it day by day and right now, I feel, that this is a good one.”

“Yeah?” she says quietly, licking her dry lips.

“Yeah,” you confirm, bringing one of her hands up to gently kiss. What you’re about to say you feel in your heart and it has been growing for the last week. Perhaps it was too soon to say it, but Emily deserves to know how you feel and that despite this being new, this was a relationship you were determined to see where it takes the both of you. “Maybe if I give you one of your presents, it’ll help you feel better?”

Her eyes look along the ceiling while she chucks. “Maybe.”

You lean forward and cup her cheek, gently caressing it until you lock eyes. “I love you, Emily Prentiss.”

Her audible gasp at the admission is swallowed by your lips gently kissing hers. The kiss was soft, a silent signature of proof to the words already spoken. It is affirmation that you want to be here with Emily, and you feel her free hand slide around your waist as she steps closer. The press of her body forces a sigh from your lips which makes Emily smile against yours.

“I love you, too.” She confesses quietly, pulling your joined hands against her chest. “And it scares me.”

“Well, here’s the good news.” Emily pulls back to look at you, brown eyes equally fearful and exhilarated, as she waits for what you must share. Your smile helps to ground her. “We get to be scared together.”

She laughs as a couple of tears fall free and you reach up to wipe them away. As she leans into your touch, Emily asks you a question since she has doubts about this gift of yours, no matter how much she treasures it. “Was that really one of my gifts?”

“No,” you admit and kiss her forehead. “But it’s all true. Consider it a bonus.”

Emily looks up to you with a smile that lights up the entire room. “Mm, I do like the sound of that,” she says before capturing your lips once again.

*Vetarans Affairs

*EMR - Electronic Medical Record

*H&P - History and Physical

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 6

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of doing the nasty. MDNI!

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Monday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 6: Chicken Feet

Chapter summary: You and Law leave the crew behind to journey to Punk Hazard. You meet Monet, but seeing Law and Monet together makes you uneasy. Chaos ensues when your jealousy reaches to new heights each time you catch them together.

A/N: HELLO! Thank you so much for your patience friends! Writer's block is gone and it's time to get rolling! This story is canon-compliant, but it's not going to follow the actual story 100%. This isn't proofread so yeah sorry lol

Also CW/TW: slight mentions of the nasty if you squint, use your imagination folks.

I also created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it!

wc: 4k

You were instantly hit with regret when you and Law stepped foot at Punk Hazard. It was a month since you and the captain dropped off the crew at Zou to assist him in his mission to stop Doflamingo, but you desperately wanted to turn around and return for them. But it was too late, and Law seemed amused with the sight of you shivering in the vast cold land of the half of Punk Hazard. 

"Wow, it's not that cold here," Law said sarcastically as he walked towards a large door by a mountainside. While keeping his head forward, you saw him look at you with a smirk on his lips. Annoyed by your captain's sarcastic remark, you stooped to the ground to grab a handful of snow and chucked it at the back of Law's black coat. The man chuckled, clearly unbothered by your tantrum.

"Shut up! If you told me that we would travel to the fucking Arctic, I would've dressed better!" you comically spat at him. 

"I told you (Y/n)-ya, you should've worn that boiler suit." the man tutted back at you.

There was no arguing that. You fought tooth and nail against your captain on wearing anything else but those damned boiler suits, and now you're paying the price for it. So you opted for a cute black fur coat that went down to your knees and black leggings, but it was not enough to keep you warm in the insane cold environment of Punk Hazard 

"I'd rather die than wear those ugly boiler suits! We're not with the crew anyway!" you argued back.

You and Law now stood in front of a giant steel door. With his slender finger, Law knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before the door scrapped open, revealing a pale white man with spiked black hair. He stood very tall, but he didn't have any legs as it was replaced with gas. His yellow eyes bore into you and Law before his lips turned into a sinister smile.

"Well well well! What do we have here? Shuorororo!" the man creepily giggled. "A warlord at my doorstep? I'm honoured!" Then he took a look at you who was behind Law, and his eery smile widened even more. "And you brought along a sweet treat!"

"Caesar Clown. I came here for some business with you." Law said with a calm demeanour. Although he spoke professionally, there was a slight tone of aggressiveness. "I've heard about your production in SMILE fruits and SAD and I'm greatly intrigued. So, I'm offering that we can be business partners, to help you with production and distribution."

"And why should I engage in a partnership with you?" Caesar questioned.

The tattooed doctor hummed before he gave his answer. "You can use my Warlord status as protection."

The pale man smirked, "I already work for a Warlord. I won't disclose his name, but the JOKER already compensates me well."

"What about extra protection from another Warlord?" you piped up behind your captain.

The two men looked at you. Law stared at you with amusement while Caesar held a bewildered expression.

"That doesn't seem to be a bad idea. Good thinking (Y/n)-ya." your captain said with praise. He then turned his head back at the gaslike man. "The JOKER may be a good employer, but he will backstab you Caesar-ya. But with me, I can be that backup plan just in case things go wrong with your little business, hm?"

"Little?! For your information, my work is greatly sought after! I am the second-best scientist in the world and my work and weaponry directly supply an Emperor of the Seas!" Caesar scoffed.

You stepped up and took your place beside Law. "More of a reason to partner with my captain! If all goes to shit with the production of SAD, who do you think is first to blame?" you piqued up.

That seemed to get the mad scientist thinking. "Well well. You're not just a pretty face after all. Shurorororo!" 

Even though you cringed at the compliment, you couldn't help but swell with pride, seeing that Law gave you a tiny smile of appreciation your way. 

"The two of you come inside! I'm warming up to this idea of being business partners with another Warlord..."Caesar started to ramble as he ushered the two of you inside the facility.

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

You really wanted to go back to the Polar Tang now.

The facility wasn't bad at all. Everything was provided: space, a place to rest, and food. But you felt that something suspicious was going on and you couldn't figure out what it was. Law refused to tell you why he wanted to stay on Punk Hazard, but you understood it was all to avoid compromising the mission. He even exchanged his heart with Monet, another person staying in Punk Hazard, so that no one could betray one another.

Speaking of Monet, you hated the woman. Something about here didn't sit right with you, but you couldn't figure out why.

As you walked the laboratory corridors, you spotted that a research room had its door slightly cracked open. Curiosity got to you, prompting you to peek inside. Standing at the door, you touched your chest and muttered 'Calm'. With the newfound Devil Fruit powers you gained a month ago, you could take away sound from yourself and your environment. And it proved very useful now that you were peeking in this room.

There, Monet was sitting on a chair, writing notes on a desk. To her left, was Law, sitting on a couch to her right and Caesar was standing in front of him. They were engaged in a conversation, and you couldn't help but listen in.

"So, you're Trafalgar Law. Also known as the Surgeon of Death. You hail from the North Blue. You ate the Op-Op Fruit." she spoke as she was writing away.

Law glanced at her as she continued to speak. "You also brought your subordinate, (Y/n). A formidable sniper and a cook at the Heart Pirates. She hails from the East Blue. You said she ate a Devil Fruit recently but no information about its type."

Monet turned from her chair to face the two men to her right. "There are former prisoners that are on this island who were affected by a poison gas. Can you heal them?" she asked. 

Your captain continued to stare at her. Meanwhile, Caesar continued the conversion. "I'll let you and your subordinate stay here, so long as you assist me and don't tell anyone else about this lab. Are we clear Trafalgar?" 

"So be it. Also, you are not to tell anyone that (Y/n)-ya and I are here. That includes Joker alright?" Law said firmly.

A light giggle passed Monet's lips. "Caesar, I say that it's fine that he stays here. Besides, he's cute," she said as she threw a wink in Law's direction, much to his dismay. 

An unpleasant shiver went down your spine as your chest started to tighten. 

Now you really didn't like her. That was strike one. 

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

 A week slowly went by as you and Law stayed at the Laboratory. You found out that there were children and giant children, who were staying at the lab because Caesar said he was finding a cure for them. Of course, you didn't believe him, and you took it upon yourself to find out that the kids were actually guinea pigs for Caesar and his messed up experiments. But with your given circumstance, you knew that Law had a plan to take down Caesar and the SAD factory, so it was a matter of being patient with him. So the most you could do right now was feed the kids and keep them safe. 

Tonight, you made the kids spaghetti and meatballs, and when you presented it to them in the Biscuit Room, which was where they were staying, they all cheered joyfully.

A small smile graced your lips as you watched the kids eat the dinner they made you.

"This is amazing (Y/n)!" a giant girl named Mocha exclaimed. She wolfed down her portions and reached out her bowl to you. "Seconds please!"

"Good thing I made two buckets full of spaghetti, you kids got big appetites!" you giggled as you gave the girl another portion. 

"I'm so glad you came here! The food you make is awesome!" A blond boy named Sind cheered.

The rest of the kids shouted with joy as they continued to eat. As you were serving the kids their second portions, you didn't realize that Law walked into the room and made his way beside you.

"Oh, hello Mr. Snow Leopard!" A giant kid named Konbu called out.

You turned your head to see your captain with a sour face. He was not fond of the nickname the kids had given him.

"Hey, Captain Snow Leopard. Fancy you seeing here." you teased.

"Don't be copying these brats too (Y/n)-ya, address me properly." he scowled. 

A cackle left your lips while you prepared a plate for him. "Oh, don't be mean. You know these kids are going through a hard time by being here, and we're the only ones decent enough to take care of them."

"You're forgetting that Monet takes care of them as well," he answered back as he reached out to take the plate of spaghetti from your hands.

The smile on your face fell as Monet's name was mentioned. Your grip on the plate tightened as Law tried to take it.

"I see that you're getting comfortable with Monet, are you captain?" you said in a high-pitched voice, laced with discontent. A smile appeared on your face again, but it was clear that you were irritated.

"I would like a plate of spaghetti please." your captain said as he tried to pull the plate away from your iron grip. 

"Hm, I don't feel like giving it to you now." you singsonged. You pulled the plate away from his tattooed hand and gave it to Mocha instead.

"Are you mad at me?" Law gritted, clearly irritated by your actions.

"I don't know Cap, did you do something to piss me off?" you shot back at him.

The doctor grabbed the collar of your black jacket and brought your face close to his. "Don't start this again (Y/n)-ya. If you have an issue then spit it out." he lowly said. 

You raised your right hand which was holding a pair of tongs, and smacked Law's head with it. The tattooed captain let go of his grip on you and proceeded to clutch his head as he stumbled back in surprise.

"You're a smart man, figure it out yourself!" you shouted at him. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Law shouted back.

The two of you grabbed each other's collars and started to hurl more insults at each other.

The children watched the quarrel between you and Law with amusement. They started to whisper amongst themselves.

"They're funny!"

"They remind me of my mom and dad. Now I miss them..."

"Wow, I've never seen (Y/n) this mad before, it's funny!"

You and the tattooed captain were butting heads until Monet made her way into the Biscuit Room.

"Time for your candy!" she called out. The kids dropped their plates and proceeded to run toward the green haired woman. 

Pulling away from your captain's collar, you started to clean up the plates and utensils littered on the floor. "There's your woman," you muttered while cleaning up.

"Hm?" Law said, "What did you say?"

"Hi, Monet! Did you want some spaghetti? I made some for dinner!" you called out while ignoring Law.

Monet made her way to you. "Oh, I would love some!" Then she looked at Law and smiled. "If you haven't eaten yet, would you like to join me for dinner Trafalgar?" 

Law 'tched' in response. In the corner of Monet's eye, she saw your face deepen into a scowl. The sight of you being mad made her smile

That fucking woman was pushing you buttons and she was enjoying it. The handle of the pot started to crack as your hand gripped as tight as ever in anger. However, you managed to shove down your emotions and flashed a fake smile towards her and Law. The doctor raised his eye in skepticism as he saw you set down the pot and prepare two plates of spaghetti.

"Oh, how nice would that be? Here you go! You two enjoy dinner!" you said with fake cheerfulness. Shoving the plates into their hands, you quickly scrambled to set the plates and pots into the rolling cart and sped out of the Biscuit Room. 

"Thank you (Y/n)! Your cooking is always delicious!" Monet thanked you.

The tattooed captain just stared at your back as you were leaving the room. He knew something was up with you. Sighing in exhaustion, he brushed your behaviour aside as he started to think about the mission he was currently in. 

Unbeknownst to Monet and Law, you were unbelievably angry and veins started to pop on your forehead as you made your way back into the kitchen. Heavy stomps echoed throughout the hallway as you angrily pushed the food trolley. With your hands tightly gripping onto the trolley bar, you took a deep breath and sighed. 

That was strike two. One more strike and you were going to beat both of their asses to the snowy grounds of Punk Hazard. 

------------- 

You heard that Law agreed to give Caesar's henchmen limbs. It was one of the conditions that Caesar implemented for you and the captain to stay at Punk Hazard, aside from exchanging the literal hearts of Law and Monet to prevent backstabbing.

So when you were walking across the halls of the laboratory and heard the deathly screams of grown men echo throughout, you weren't surprised. 

"Looks like the captain is performing surgery today." you giggled as you skipped along the hallway. Deciding that you wanted to see the disembodiment in action, you quickly followed the sounds of agony. But as you were nearing the door, the screaming suddenly halted. As you slowed down your pace, you quietly made your way to the door and heard light shuffling and Monet's voice, You leaned up against the door with your right ear to listen.

"Alright, I'm ready Trafalgar," Monet said. "Are you sure this won't hurt?"

More shuffling was heard until Law spoke up. "First time? Don't worry, I'll stick it in slowly."

Your entire body froze as your mouth dropped in horror. "What the hell are they doing in there?!" you hissed to yourself. 

You heard a light grunt and a sharp inhale. More shuffling.

"Oh my, that's kind of big now that I look at it," Monet commented. "It feels weird too."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," You heard Law reply. "Now, hold still, I'm going to shove it in."

Oh that was it. That was strike three. And you know what they say. Three strikes and you’re out. And by out you meant that you were going to kill your captain and that green-haired witch.

Your mind short-circuited as you assumed that your captain and that damned woman were up to no good. With your mind and heartbeat going 100 miles per hour, you grabbed the handle and swung the door wide open, screaming; "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE?!"

And as soon as you laid your eyes upon Law and Monet, your heart stopped and your feet were stuck in place.

There they were, with Law's back facing you and the green-haired woman lying on her back on the couch. The doctor's left tattooed hand was holding onto her right leg which was up in the air. Your captain's face was turned to you with his face widening in horror, and Monet tilted her head to the left to look at you. 

What set you off was when Monet glanced at you, her long green hair was dishevelled.

Steam started to blow through your ears as you glared hole into Law and Monet. Your entire body started to shake uncontrollably as your chest heaved up and down aggressively.

Realizing that he was caught in a position that already caused a great misunderstanding, Law quickly let go of the leg he was holding onto and scrambled to make your way towards you. What you failed to see was that Monet's left leg was now replaced with a giant talon.

"(Y/n)-ya, you can't just barge into here while-" he started but you cut him off.

"CAPTAIN TRAFALGAR LAW! WHAT IN NEPTUNES GREAT BEARD ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT BITCH?!" you bellowed. 

Unable to think straight, you stomped past your captain headed towards the large bird talon on the desk in front of the couch. As you picked it up with your right hand, you whipped your head to glare at the insufferable woman lying on the couch.

"You've got some nerve seducing my captain like that!" you shrieked as you swung the limb towards Monet. She promptly dodged your attack and screamed, running away from the couch and onto the other side of the room.

"(Y/n)! It's not what you think! He just-" she started to explain before you swung at her again.

"I don't want to fucking hear it!" you screeched as you chased the poor limping woman around the room.

"Shambles!" Law grunted. And as soon as he said it, you swung the talon once more towards Monet, only to knock down a bookshelf onto the floor.

You whipped your head to face the captain once more. Law shuddered as he saw your eyes glimmer with hate. It was screaming bloody murder, and he was on the receiving end of it.

"YOU! Oh, you've got some nerve! You men disgust me!" you screeched as you stomped towards the doctor. With your left foot planted in front, your right arm swung up, reading to assault the man with the bird limb.

"(Y/n)-ya wait! Whatever you're thinking, we didn't do it!" he yelped as he jumped to the side to avoid your attack. However, he didn't know that you were quick enough to see through his actions and the back of the talon hit him on the side of his head, which successfully smacked him to the ground.

Your left hand reached out to the pistol that was hoisted on your hip. You drew it out and pointed it to the man on the floor, "Falling for a woman like that? How despicable! I-!" you started to lecture, but your voice drowned out as you realized that your outburst of anger took all the energy out of you.

"I-" you started to speak but your voice failed you. As your hand fell back to your side, you started to wonder why you acted like that. Even if they had something between them, it wasn't your place to care, unless you were...

"...Jealous? Are you jealous (Y/n)-ya?" Law called out as you returned to your senses. The discomfort that once reflected in his eyes was replaced with amusement as his mouth raised in a smirk.

Your eyes widened at the revelation as your heart started to pound. A bright red flush appeared on your cheeks.

"There's no way," you muttered. The limb that once was on your hand dropped to the ground as you stumbled back in shock. Glancing at Law, who now stood up with his arms crossed, you shot a nasty glare as the smirk on his face widened even more. 

"Why would I be jealous?! I was just protecting your dignity!" you sputtered. The captain made a stride towards you as he chuckled.

"What a stupid reason. You expect me to believe that?" he teased. 

He was now looming in front of you as you backed up to a wall. Your head was bowed down in embarrassment as you refused to look into his steel grey eyes. 

"I wasn't jealous..." you lowly muttered.

"Somehow that's not believable," Law answered back. He dipped his head to your eye level so that he could make eye contact with you, but you whipped your head to the side, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Amused by your sudden 180-degree change in mood, your captain stood straight up, placed his hand on the back of your head, and kissed your forehead.

The once freezing temperature of the laboratory now skyrocketed into a burning hot sensation as Law made an out-of-character advance toward you. Whipping your head up to face Law, your face was now burning hot with more embarrassment.

"Captain! What was that for?" you yelped in surprise.

Law simply chuckled. "Sometimes, I wonder what goes on on that interesting head of yours. One minute you're beating me with a bird limb and then the next I find out it's because you're jealous."

You shoved away the man in front of you and pouted. "I am NOT jealous! I just had to straighten you up and remind you that we're on a mission here!"

"Oh please, if anything, you were the one who forgot that we had a mission (Y/n)-ya." he retorted. 

"Whatever, now help me clean up this mess," you sneered as you proceeded to pick up the fallen books that you knocked down from your rampage. The tattooed captain chuckled and proceeded to assist you in a comfortable silence for a while before he spoke up again.

"(Y/n)-ya?" he said as he hoisted up the fallen bookshelf.

"Yeah what is it cap," you said with disinterest as you continued to collect the fallen items. 

"You know you'll always have me right?" he announced.

Your heart picked up slightly at the confession. Then A smile graced your lips as you turned your head to face Law. "Shut up and put that bookshelf up, Cap," you finally said as you tried to dismiss your feelings. 

The captain sighed as he shook his head. A rumble of laughter started to escape his chest, and you followed suit. Amidst the chaos that happened in one of the laboratory rooms, you and Law couldn't help but share one of the many moments you had with one another, even though the two of you were far away from home.

----------

Bonus Scene:

In the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates were nowhere to be seen. That was because all of them were inside the captain's quarters, staring at a small book at the captain's desk. The cover of the book read 'Journal'.

"So, should we open it?" Penguin asked, with his hand hovering over the notebook. 

"Yeah man, let's do it!" Shachi affirmed.

"Guys, what if the captain finds out?" Bepo chittered.

"You idiot, there's no way he'd find out if he's not here!" Ikkaku chided the Mink.

"Sorry..." Bepo muttered.

 Penguin picked up the book and slowly opened it. "Alright you guys, here we go..."

Everyone leaned in and peered over Penguin's shoulders as the notebook opened. As soon as the first page was opened, a bunch of folded envelopes fell out and scattered on the ground. The entire crew crouched down and picked them up.

"It's addressed to (Y/n)," Hakugan announced.

"This one too." Jean Bart said.

"This one as well!" Uni called out.

"Wait a minute, are these all love letters for (Y/n)? And he never gave them to her?" Shachi said bewilderedly.

"Guys, captain's journal is just filled with yearning for (Y/n)!" Penguin cackled as he skimmed through Law's journal.

The whole crew burst into laughter as they crowded around Penguin once more to read what the captain had to say about you.

----------

TAGLIST:

@hopelesslover06 @shakysif @eyes-ofhell @letmereadchristonabike @bi-narystars @valval08 @urbisexualfriend @emmaiscool22 @deathsmajestysworld @sp1ng @kitsunechan707 @orange-milky

[gloomwitchwrites]

*stumbles breathless through your door*

I SAW YOU'RE ASKING FOR STORY REQUESTS!!

*fixes the Caps button*

Sowwy!!

Anyway!!

Please can I ask for:

1. Lord of the Rings

2. Bathing (innocent)

3. Thranduil

4. I leave free hand to you. Just some nice relaxing bath with his love (can he his new queen or soon to be) some pampering with hair and skin care, something along those lines. Fem!elf!reader if I may ask that!

xoxo Firelight

That entrance into my ask box is a solid 10/10. No notes. Just perfect.

Technically, I’m not taking story requests, but I am taking headcanon requests for all the fandoms I write for. So, this will fall into the “what are Thranduil’s bathing habits” realm. So like, what he does alone and with a partner. But it’s obviously on the innocent/fluffy/romantic side of things.

Personally, I’m all about a soft Thranduil who knows how to pamper himself and his partner. I've kept this one on the gender neutral side.

Word Count: 585

1k Follower Event Rules

ao3 // taglist // 1k follower event masterlist // main masterlist

Thranduil’s bathing habits when he’s alone:

A bath is Thranduil’s reset. There is no one that attends him during this time. It’s a chance for him to slow down and to let go of the pressures of the day. When I mean that no one attends him, I mean no one. It is he that fills the tub with water. Not one of his subjects. Thranduil uses that time to disconnect and to think only of the task at hand. He is always making choices, giving orders, and overseeing the wellbeing of all. Filling the bath is a moment of peace. There are no responsibilities here.

Thranduil soaks before he scrubs or washes his hair. He will close his eyes, tip his head back, and rest. This could take a few minutes or even ten before he opens his eyes again and begins the process of lathering up some soap.

Thranduil washes his body first before his hair. The soaps and scrubs he uses are always made from ingredients that are found within the Woodland Realm. He is resourceful in that regard. That same goes for his hair. Anything and everything are sourced from the forest, if possible.

Thranduil reads in the bath (if it’s just him).

Usually doesn’t eat but might have a snack. There will always be wine. That’s nonnegotiable.

Doesn’t remove himself from the tub until the water has gone cold. He likes to stay in as long as possible.

Loves a warm towel afterward.

Thranduil’s bathing habits when he’s with a partner:

Similar to how he draws the bath from himself, Thranduil will do the same for his partner. It’s an act of service, but also a way he shows affection. He wants to do it, and he always makes sure to have it done before they can arrive to bathe themselves. He might seek help from an attendant to prepare other items like candles or fetching wine and food, but Thranduil likes to do most of it himself.

Because of who he is and all the things he must do in a day, a bath is his time to reconnect with his partner. During this time, they are alone, and are unlikely to be interrupted. Truly, this is the only time for Thranduil to spend time with his partner since most of his day is spent taking care of his people.

Whoever Thranduil is with, they are not to lift a finger. This is about them, not him, and he goes to great lengths to make that happen. His favorite thing to do is recline in the tub with his partner leaning against him. This way, Thanduil can cuddle them but also take care of them. It’s the best position to wash their body and their hair.

He is prone to gentle touches, almost an absent-minded sort of motion. He does it without having to think about it. Skin against skin is usually what he needs and not in the physical sense of need. Connection is more important here.

Thranduil enjoys conversation but it is not a requirement. Sometimes just being in each other’s presence is enough.

Thranduil will not allow his partner to do anything for themselves while in the bath. Won’t get angry about it but he might have a twinge of attitude if they keep resisting. Thranduil just wants to take care of them.

Will make sure his partner removes themselves from the bath before they grow cold.

Thranduil will insist on drying them himself.

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot

@firelightinferno @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth

@miaraei @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @therealbloom @ninman82

@thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

I saw a couple of posts here and on ao3 where you talked about how TOA Apollo has a stilted view of romantic relationships. Would you be comfortable explaining that, it got me really interested!

OKAY

SO

gonna be putting this under a cut for length

Apollo and relationships. Specifically, ToA Apollo and relationships.

let's see if I can formulate the thoughts into words.

Right off the bat, Apollo does have a hard time avoiding those red flags (hello, Commodus), so much so that he can see them...he just ignores them.

This already tells us that he doesn't have the healthiest view on relationships, or what specifically a healthy partner would be like.

In RRverse canon, these are all of his confirmed, canon relationships/love interests;

Hyacinthus

Commodus

Naomi

Darren

Latricia

Cyrene

Daphne

Sibyl

(I probably missed some asdfhjk)

Anyway, I've noticed that in canon, Apollo's relationships tend to fall into two categories; Sweet or Sour, we'll call them.

Now the majority on the list are Sweet! They are fulfilling relationships with no indication of any bitter feelings- Apollo is not shy about telling us about his love life, and certainly doesn't keep it from us when a relationship went south.

What I find interesting is that all three of the Sours can help pinpoint Apollo's more jaded/stilted view on romance.

Let's kick off with Daphne.

First things first, Apollo is quite literally forced to fall in love with her. Like. That has GOT to screw with a guy. What's more, is that when Apollo explains to us how Eros's arrows work;

What people do not understand: Eros’s arrows can’t summon emotion from nothing. They can only cultivate potential that is already there. Daphne and I could have been a perfect pair. She was my true love. She could have loved me back. Yet thanks to Eros, my love-o-meter was cranked to one hundred percent, while Daphne’s feelings turned to pure hate (which is, of course, only the flip side of love). Nothing is more tragic than loving someone to the depths of your soul and knowing they cannot and will not ever love you back. The stories say I chased her on a whim, that she was just another pretty dress. The stories are wrong. - The Hidden Oracle

There's an implication that he and Daphne may have actually been...friends. Or at the very least acquaintances.

It's never stated in canon when Daphne happened, and the mythology itself is weird about the timeline, but it certainly happened earlier in Apollo's life.

Imagine being forced to fall madly in love with someone you know and they are made to despise you.

The self-confidence definitely took a blow here.

What's more...

When she begged Gaea to turn her into a laurel tree in order to escape me, part of my heart hardened into bark as well.

Apollo tells us plainly that what happened with Daphne shook his views on romantic endeavors. Though, it didn't keep him from engaging in romance, either.

Now, back to Commodus real quick. We already covered the No Red Flag Bell with him, and honestly, I won't spend too much time here because I got a whole meta list waiting to dissect these two XD

But Sibyl reveals something else about Apollo and romance- sometimes, he sees it as transactional.

The story of Apollo and Sibyl does differ from the mythology of them- in mythology, Sibyl tricks Apollo into granting her a long life, and he kinda just shrugs and says 'okay, but you didn't ask for eternal youth either so...whoops?'

In ToA, Rick switches it up a bit by having Apollo grant Sibyl a long life after she jokes about it, and when she further rebuffs him, he curses her with no eternal youth.

Alas, I knew what I’d been thinking—that she was a pretty young woman I wanted to get with, despite the fact that she was my Sibyl. Then she’d outsmarted me, and being the bad loser that I was, I had cursed her. - The Tyrant's Tomb

I promised you life, not youth. You can have your centuries of existence. You will remain my Sibyl. I cannot take those things away, once given. But you will grow old. You will wither. You will not be able to die.

Yeah, it sounds like Apollo more or less curses her with no eternal youth here.

(Daily disclaimer that mythology Apollo's love life is actually very good and you should read up on it :3)

Back to the transactional thing-

"You cannot refuse payment." “Payment?” She balled her hands into fists. “You dare think of me as a transaction?” “I didn’t mean—Obviously, I wasn’t—”

Now, do I think Apollo sees all relationships as transactional? No. But let's consider the Olympian influence for a moment here.

Olympus in the RRverse is rather fucked, no doubt about it. The gods do not help without first being given something, and that permeates through their whole lifestyles.

Apollo's not being transactional because ✨misogyny✨. He's being transactional because that's what he's been raised to believe. If he gives something, he gets something back. That goes for all the gods, male and female and everything in between.

Bacchus helps the demigods in Mark of Athena because they paid tribute to him. Whenever a god extends aid, burnt offerings are made in thanks- which is probably part of the reason why Hera got angry with Annabeth when she refused to give her burnt offerings in The Battle of the Labyrinth after she helped her on her quest.

Apollo doesn't seem to be as picky as some (ie, The Titan's Curse, where he helps out to help out. You can argue he got his sister back in exchange but that's not really typical godly exchange lol), but it's clear that mindset has somewhat transferred over into relationships.

Now, I also want to talk about how Hyacinthus affected him- because let's be real, he was the one that affected him the most without outside interference (looking at you, Eros).

Apollo has told us time and again that Hyacinthus was one of, if not his greatest, love. His death really left a mark on him, and I am of the firm belief that it's that mark that made him wary of forming too close of a relationship with others- even when he tries to convince them and himself they are his One True Love™️, it falls flat inside his own head.

Because let's face it- that spot is occupied by Hyacinthus, and the hole he left in Apollo's heart.

This isn't to say Apollo loves his other lovers less- heck no! Love is one of his defining qualities. He has much love in him!

It's just that Hyacinthus had a particular impact on him, and how he views relationships.

*vibrates in Hyapollo multific* I have...my own personal ideas...on what that entails...

And we see how touch-and-go Apollo is with other lovers! As soon as Commodus becomes emperor, he's gone. And only comes back in disguise, never revealing himself until he kills him.

Naomi, Darren, and Latricia are all obviously loving relationships from what we can gather, but it's clear it was never long-term.

Cyrene, really, is where I'd argue he got the closest to a long-term relationship with a mortal-ish person, but even so, they aren't in a permanent long-term relationship either.

Hyacinthus, however? I can see he and Apollo maintaining an everlasting romance.

...Also because that is exactly what happens according to the Spartans and who are we to deny what the Spartans declared about their national hero?

The only other exceptions to this I can see are his relationships with the Muses and (hello, fellow Apricity shippers) Boreas.

But even so...the Muses give off like, 'married co-workers' vibes, if that makes sense, and Boreas is more or less a winter fling (fandom forgive me, you know I am a shipper🫡)

Anyway. Hope this rambling makes sense or at least provides a platform for someone to put coherent thoughts together lmao

In conclusion: sometimes Apollo is transactional in relationships because of the culture he was raised in, and he has commit issues because of just how hard Hyacinthus's death hit him :)

have fun pondering :3

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Spider-Man

if you wanna be my lover (you gotta get with my friends) by mindshelter

MJ still remembers Ned’s initial disbelief when Peter—infamous for missing class back in sophomore year, suspended for two weeks freshman year—finished his bit of the group write-up four days early. The work was perfect, and so was Ned's chemistry grade. After that it was Peter this, Peter that, Peter parted the Red Sea, it’s true, MJ, I was there; I saw it. MJ, hey, are you listening?

Then Ned says, “We should invite Peter to join AcaDec.”

or; peter isn’t rock bottom on midtown’s social ladder; he’s underground. friendless, rumoured to get into street fights. ned declares him bestie material anyway, and mj catches feelings.

she also meets tony stark(?) in foodtown, of all places, and makes a spider-man(??) sighting.

M!ik

law of insomnia by thewunderkind

אנחנו נפגשים שוב” "I'm sorry, I do not understand," And then Iruma lowers himself, getting on his knees and bowing until his forehead meets the ground.

Or the one wherein they're soulmates and only Alice is aware of what is happening.

DC

how's it go again? by timdrakesuperspy

Tim Drake's universe is falling apart. He's surprised when he doesn't fall with it, due only to Mr. Mxyzptlk's misplaced feeling of debt. He's even more surprised when the imp crash-land him in the middle of the Wayne family's dinner.

OR: After Tim fails to bring back enough proof that Bruce isn't dead, his life sucks. So of course the universe falls apart. So of course a nosy interdimensional imp decides to intervene and send Tim to a universe unnervingly off from his.

the back corner booth by destiny919

"Hey, Hood," Rhys says seriously. "I've got something for you, but it's a little outside your usual service range."

Jason raises his eyebrows under the helmet. He never gets kids from outside the Alley, if only because they have no way of meeting one of his liaisons, or any reason to trust the Red Hood. "How far outside?"

Rhys smirks. "Not too far. Just Bristol."

Jason really, really hopes his appalled expression is coming through the helmet.

SVSSS

to find an intended (a bit unintentionally) by nyoomerr

It takes about five minutes after they first meet for Shen Yuan to start flirting with Luo Binghe. Aggressively, too, in a way that even some of Luo Binghe’s most frequent bed partners wouldn’t dare to. It’s shocking and infuriating and, unfortunately, Luo Binghe finds himself charmed.

Too bad Shen Yuan doesn’t actually know that his actions come off as demon-flirting in the first place.

Clone Wars

an ill-advised gift by S_C_G

The Senate tries their hand at some regime change in the Mandalore sector.

It doesn't go well.

The Senate tries their hand at sending a gift to better relations and buy some time.

They couldn't have made a worse choice.

Or, the Senate gives the Mand'alor a child. This, quite predictably, backfires.

let me lie with you by MadMothMadame

The War is over. With the Sith conspiracy uncovered, and Sepratists suing for peace, Obi-Wan knew things would not be the same as they were before. Some changes would be for the worse, but when he thought about Cody, and all they had the potential to become now that rank and the weight of war no longer had to stand between them-

Well, some change could only be for the better.

He should have known better.

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Starting Your Freshman Year at Greendale and Joining the Study Group

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Requested by: Anon

Headcanons for being a new freshman at Greendale and becoming a member of the study group?

Ohh sorry i didn’t clarify! it doesn’t matter to me, i just liked the idea of the reader kinda being the baby of the group, so maybe everyone is in their later years at greendale?

Relationship(s): The Study Group (Jeff, Britta, Annie, Troy, Abed, Shirley and Pierce) x gn!reader (platonic)

Warnings: References to underage drinking. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: I started writing this literal years ago, but I rewatched the Community Christmas episodes today and it’s made me want to rewatch all of Community and start writing for it again. Not enough people write for it, and not enough people write gender-neutral-reader fics. This was like 90% done so it was a good place to start again. I went with making it so the reader joins the Study Group during season 3, since I had the idea of using the reader to replace Todd in the episode where none of them want to work with him. I haven’t followed the canon of season 3 verbatim, since it’d have made writing this kinda difficult (plus I haven’t seen season 3 in years). So, this is more general. I’m hoping to work through my list of Community requests from years ago throughout 2024, since I’m hoping to get more into the habit of putting aside time for writing.)

When you decided on taking Biology 101 during your first semester at Greendale, you were bound to learn of (and witness first hand) the notorious Study Group.

Your hope that you wouldn’t be roped into their borderline-narcissistic antics was killed when you were given Pierce Hawthorne as your lab partner.

To say he was annoyed would be an understatement.

Oh boy, did he make it known that he abhorred having to be your lab partner.

In fact, most of them seemed to hate the idea of being stuck as your partner, which was at least a little hurtful.

When Abed rearranged the lab partner pairings based on some mental computer wizardry, you got put with Jeff, who was a bit more subtle with his annoyance.

You spent most of that night standing there awkwardly while Shirley cried about being the least popular member of the Study Group, or trying to be some kind of mediator between these friends who you knew only from rumours and observing them.

You also had to rescue a turtle from being burned alive by Britta, which sent you over the edge into a fit of fury.

Annie was the one who apologised to you for everything, and, much to the chagrin of everyone else, invited you to join the study group.

Perhaps she didn’t expect you to take her up on the offer, but you did anyway.

Your first study session with them made them realise that you fit in well with the group.

Even Abed liked your presence, because he believed it ‘changed the status quo without being like when sitcoms add a kid character in a desperate attempt to boost the ratings’.

(He compared you to Frasier from Cheers)

For a while, though, you did feel a little isolated from the group, considering you were often the only one to comment negatively on the group’s questionable behaviour, which they saw as perfectly normal.

However, you adjusted to being in the group alarmingly fast, to the point of getting carried away in the Study Group mentality like the rest of them.

As the baby of the group, you were treated as such, despite being at least a bit more mature than Troy and Abed.

For example, if Jeff and Britta were in the middle of a heated discussion, you’d be told to ‘stay out of it’.

Abed, early on, would analyse you to figure out how exactly you fit into the group, such as deciding what archetype best describes you.

There’s also a chance that he would create and manipulate situations in order to test your personality.

Jeff would shut this down as soon as he figured out what Abed was doing.

In an effort to try and include you more, Annie would force each member of the Study Group to do an activity with you. 

Annie invited you to a one-on-one study session.

(Also, if you’re taking any classes that she took in her first or second year, she’ll lend you her old materials, like notes, textbooks, study cards etc.)

Shirley took you to the mall with her and her kids, treating you like one of her own kids.

Troy and Abed introduced you to Inspector Spacetime, which you quickly became a big fan of.

(Watching it became a Saturday night ritual for the three of you)

Britta brought you along to a protest which ended in the both of you in jail.

(An irritated Jeff would have to come bail you both out, and Britta would beg him not to say anything about it to Shirley or Annie)

Pierce gave you $1000 to tell Annie that he’d taken you to the zoo.

Jeff invited you over to his apartment for beers, which resulted in you both getting wasted and having a tearful heart-to-heart with one another.

Despite adopting the Study Group mentality to a certain degree, you would be the least susceptible to the group’s dumbassery due to joining so late, which meant you’d often be the one to pull the group out of the stupid shit they were doing.

At the very least, you’d pull Jeff out of it, and he’d take the lead and sort out everyone else.

If you weren’t that close to your family, you’d probably spend holidays over at Shirley’s upon her insistence.

(I love love love the idea that she makes a custom Christmas stocking for you the first year you come over)

In a weird way, the Study Group became your family, albeit a dysfunctional one.

After your friends all graduated, you stayed in touch with most of them, even before you were reunited because of the Save Greendale Committee.

It’s safe to say that, even if you do join late, you’re still accepted as one of them, for better or for worse.

[leighsartworks216]

Nuptial Bed

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Fem version - Masc version

If I messed up pronouns/genitalia descriptions, please let me know so I can edit it as quickly as possible <333

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, blood, blood drinking

Word Count: 1,496

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The door is kicked open with a loud slam, but the two souls stumbling inside don’t show an ounce of care. Another kick closes the door just as loudly.

Hands roam feverishly under shirts and into pants, tugging and grabbing at any fabric they can get their hands on to rip it off. All the while, the people stumble back toward the bed in the center of the room, a nuptial bed awaiting them to consummate the vows they made mere hours earlier.

Astarion’s fingers frantically undid buttons and ties with less precision than he normally would. But who could blame him? You didn’t care either way as you tugged his shirt from his pants and tried to clumsily pull it over his head. You laughed into the brutal kiss at the sloppiness; you were like two eager teenagers who had no real sense of what they were doing.

A trail of clothes were abandoned on the floor. Bare to each other, you climbed back onto the bed, tugging him with you by his hair. He groaned into your mouth as he crawled over you, arms caging you in and legs straddling you. The warm scent of his perfume surrounded you - bergamot, rosemary and bourbon, wafting off the sheets and clinging to his skin, mixed with the headier scent of arousal. It was intoxicating.

You pulled away from the searing kiss with a gasp. He didn’t need air, and you kept forgetting that you did. He seemed all too used to this by now, as he wasted no time trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your chin and down your neck. The dull flats of his teeth grazed, but never lingered. His fangs only teased your skin when he reached the junction of your shoulder.

“Gods,” you panted, “Star~ Need you, please.”

He chuckled breathlessly. “I don’t even get a moment to savor my spouse?”

You laugh, too, your heart skipping with delight in your chest. Your thumb absent-mindedly caresses the point of his ear. “No, your spouse demands to have you.”

He pulls away from your shoulder to press his forehead to yours. You lean into him immediately, staring at him through half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. He grins, wide and genuine, in the orange-purple hues of sunrise filtering through the window. He’s so beautiful like this. “They already do,” he says. You smile and pull him in to kiss him once more.

Astarion hadn’t really thought about marriage. Any thoughts he did have of it told him he didn’t deserve it, as if he’d ever find a partner to spend a fragment of his long life with anyway. You weren’t sold on the idea either, to be honest. Why would you have to have a cleric certify your devotion to one another when you could do that just as well already?

And then Gale got married, and, well, Astarion suddenly saw the appeal.

It was messy trying to plan it all. Trying to plan a date where the weather would be nice and your old companions would be free from their new lives was like trying to squeeze an ogre through a keyhole, but, through sheer luck, you managed.

You spent months, between planning the ceremony and assuring Astarion that you did not need to go through this if he didn’t want to, on the hunt for a particular relic. Private correspondences with Gale finally paid off. And tonight, under the full moon, you bestowed it onto your lover: A ring that kept him from burning in the daylight.

The cold metal of the ring pressed against your cheek as he cupped your face, fingers curling into your hair to pull you impossibly closer. You pull away with a whine, lips continuing to brush together because he cannot bear the thought of moving any further right now. “Husband, please,” you beg. He sighs so adoringly at the title, sucking your lip in between his teeth. “Please, you have me.”

Supporting himself up on his knees, he runs a hand down your body to your sex. You’re already so ready for him. You’d been aroused for half the night, ever since your first dance together, when he pulled you closer by your waist.

You keen as he easily slips two fingers into you, curling once he is as deep as he can reach. He expertly works you open for him.

“Gods, you’re perfect, love.” He kisses you again, pressing his tongue into your mouth in time with a thrust of his fingers. Your hips buck into him automatically in a search for more.

You try to slip your hand between your bodies to grab hold of him, tug at his cock and stroke him as he takes care of you, but his hand falls immediately from your face to grab it. Instead, he interlocks your fingers and presses it down into the bed beside your head.

“Don’t worry, my dear partner. I’ll take care of you.” He slips his fingers from you and rubs his precum along his shaft. He has to stop himself from bucking into his hand just thinking about how it’s you that got him so turned on. He wastes little time lining himself up with your entrance; he knows he’s aligned from the sweet gasp it draws from you, swallowed up by his mouth. He begins an assault on your neck when he starts to slowly press in, eager to hear every sound you provide.

You certainly don’t disappoint. Moans and whimpers fall like prayers from your bruised lips as his cock easily glides deeper and deeper, until Astarion’s hips rest against yours. He moans shakily against your throat. He’s barely there for a few seconds before you roll your hips into his, sending lightning bolts of pleasure throughout his whole body. He draws himself out almost entirely and leisurely thrusts back in. He wishes he had half the mind to keep fucking you so slowly, so languidly. But you clench around him and he’s lost to you completely. He’s only got the sense left to build up the pace so he doesn’t hurt you, but then his hips are crashing against yours over and over again.

Your mouth is right by his ear as he draws beautiful music from your lips. Rasped swears and guttural moans mixed with light keens and whimpers. He provided a harmony against your skin; grunts and pants accentuating sighs and gasps of your name. You’re his spouse. His spouse. The thought makes his head spin.

You wrap your legs around him, ankles locked behind his back and a heel pressing into his ass, pulling him in further with each snap of his hips. You card your fingers through his hair so sweetly, being mindful the gold band on your finger doesn’t catch on any of his curls. Your interlaced hands hold each other so tightly, like you’d drift apart if you eased up even slightly.

You press chaste pecks along his ear, anywhere you can reach. “Bite me, my love. I’m all yours.”

The bite is never gentle - he’s convinced it never will be. But he does his best anyway, sucking and kissing and licking before he sinks his fangs into your neck. Your arousal floods your bloodstream with a cocktail of hormones, making you an even sweeter treat than usual. He can’t focus on the blood his tongue mindlessly laps up, not when he can feel your walls clenching around him. His hips move in desperation, faster and deeper and harder, until you’re orgasming around him and moaning his name into the room. He doesn’t last much longer. In just a couple more thrusts, his hips stutter and he presses as close as he can, burying himself as deep as possible as he cums inside you.

Your heartbeat fills his senses entirely, mixing with your breaths in a hypnotic dance. Lazily, he licks at the wound in your neck. He cleans up the new punctures, drinking the blood that oozes slowly from them until it clots, and then he cleans the surrounding skin. You taste so good. Absolutely delicious.

Once his tongue stops and he presses a light kiss to the bite, your hand in his hair slips to his cheek and pulls him to be face to face with you once more. You’re utterly blissed out. You’re gorgeous. “I love you, my dear husband.”

He kisses you tenderly. You can taste the coppery-iron tang that clings to his lips, but you don’t mind at all, not when he takes his time sharing his adoration. When he pulls away, he presses his forehead to yours and his nose against your cheek. “I love you, too, my darling spouse.”

The sun rises higher over Baldur’s Gate. Its warm rays flood the bedroom, painting you both in warm yellows and oranges. The sun rises over a new union, and he swears to make every second before it sets count, for as long as you live.

---

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[heazueken]

I saw you were taking requests on your ao3 and I had to shoot my shot:

I read a fic on here yesterday about Vastaya Jayce and I’m obsessed~

If you take nsfw requests, would you be willing to write one of those? Maybe with trans Viktor? Maybe even a little bit of possessive Jayce over Viktor?

I need this vastaya Jayce thing to catch fire STAT

anon you made my day i am so excited for this you have no idea because i’ve had a specific idea about jayce for a good while now and i get to use that in this >:)) i had a lot of trouble looking up vastayans and which one i should assign jayce to so i apologize if this isn’t good enough or you imagined him as something else because i couldn’t find a lot of images for most of the subspecies that were listed (i am not a league player im sorry =_=U) i ultimately chose the more…wolf-like vastayan because well…let’s be real jayce fits that perfectly. anyway enough yapping which i love to do, please enjoy! 

viktor speaks more czech in this :3 do prdele - shit and kurva - fuck

Cured

*ೃ༄ summary: Viktor comes in with a hangover and Jayce is the only one to cure it

warning(s): MDNI, Vaginal sex, slight exhibitionism fantasy, vaginal fingering, ftm!viktor

pairing(s): Viktor/Jayce

w/c; 8.0k

Jayce wouldn’t call himself the most possessive person in the world, despite his tendencies to care just a little too much about other people. He’s a people pleaser, or at least tries to be, but his concern and way of “helping” almost always wasn’t appreciated and was often unwanted. He had some anxieties specifically about people being too cold (definitely doesn’t have to do with the fact his human mother lost two fingers in that terrible storm, no of course not) and it resulted in him constantly bothering Caitlyn to always keep a pair of gloves on her whenever she was on the job. He pesters and pesters and doesn’t relent until the other just finally accepts defeat just to get him out of their hair.

Then there was Viktor. The most stubborn of all people Jayce had ever met.

Stubborn didn’t even cover it, this man was a walking ball of anxiety for Jayce. He clearly didn’t take well enough care of himself, skipping meals, skipping his daily water intake, staying up late into the night. Jayce couldn’t have it and he specifically made it his job to make sure nothing bad happened to his partner.

He packs extra water, offering it when he can and sometimes Viktor refuses but Jayce could give him his puppy eye stare and somehow that was enough for him to accept it. He brings an extra sandwich to the workshop with him, telling Viktor he’s just much too full and he just has to eat the rest or else Jauce’s stomach could pop. It was clear as day to the older one that his Vastayan partner was trying to take care of him and he found a comfort in it, liking that at least someone cared enough about his health.

It took a few months to feel a sort of…obsession— you could call it— with Viktor. It had started very small, the food giving and telling him to pack it up and go to bed at 12AM, insisting he walk him back to his room. Then their talks became more personal, learning more about Viktor had been one of Jayce’s many interests. Scribbling often in his journal, questions to ask him and having some of them answered like his childhood in the undercity. The fact that he was alone for the majority of it only fueled this overprotective instinct towards him. He didn’t like seeing the solemn look on Viktor’s face when he told him how alone he truly felt but how he had created little inventions to help keep him company and exercise his ever exceeding mind had helped comfort him a little at least.

It had taken the Vastayan four years of working alongside Viktor for it to finally hit him that, yeah, his fascination with Viktor was more than that and he had fallen hard for him.

He’s sitting in their workshop, papers spread across the table with scribbles of equations and his pointed ears flick with irritation. He can’t seem to find the right factor to fit in his equation to aquire the desired effect. He grumbles and his chair creaks under his weight as he pushes it away from the desk.

“Aaargghh!” Jayce ruffles his head with clawed hands, messing up the neat, slicked back style of his hair and lets it fall over his forehead in half gelled sections. He slumps his shoulder and accepts defeat, letting his cheek press into the desk and stare at the paper with contempt.

The sound of the door opens behind him, the fuzzy brown ears atop his head perk up and one involuntarily angles itself towards the sound before he’s lifting his head to see who it is.  His heart thumps when he hears the familiar sound of a cane clicking on the stone flooring.

Viktor walks in, cane in one hand and a paper bag of something in the other. His gaze meets Jayce’s immediately and Jayce feels the air in his lungs get stolen out of him completely at the sight before him.

It’s not fair, it’s simply not fair when Viktor gets to look like that and other people get to see him. He’s disheveled, the bags under his eyes tell Jayce he barely slept a wink the night prior. His normally ironed shirt is wrinkly and not properly tucked into his trousers and what makes it worse— what makes Jayce’s animalistic urges bubble up to the surface is the glimpse of skin he can see past his neck. The shirt is unbuttoned, just enough so he can see the pale, soft looking skin of Viktor’s chest along with moles decorating the base of his neck and continuing down past the collar of his shirt.

“Hey,” He says with not much enthusiasm. “Sorry I’m late. I— uh, I was out last night and had one too many.”

That wasn’t like Viktor. He never drank. Anytime Jayce had proposed the idea they go get a pint together, Viktor always politely declined. Jayce tries not to take offense to the confession and instead focuses on what’s in his hand. He nods towards it.

“What’s that?” The paper bag has wet spots on the bottom of it and Jayce’s heightened sense of smell reaches his nostrils just as the words leave his mouth. Greasy meat, bread, cheese, potato—

“A sandwich I picked up on the way here to get rid of this terrible hangover,” The older one mumbles, finally limping towards the chair next to Jayce. Being the polite man he is, the blacksmith quickly makes room for his friend, grappling at papers and stacking them into a neat pile. Viktor sets himself at the desk with a sigh and leans his cane against the back of his chair. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the sandwich wrapped in brown paper.

Jayce watches him intensely, his mind focusing more on the fact that Viktor had come in looking like— well…a mess to be quite frank with you.

“So you went drinking last night?” He asks like he isn't going to ask a string of follow up questions.

His friend gives him the side eye before taking a bite of his sandwich. He nods, covering his mouth as he speaks.

“I did.” He says it almost suspiciously, ready to be asked another question because he knew his chimera partner all too well.

Jayce’s ears flick again and Viktor doesn’t notice.

“Who’d you go with?” Again, asking nonchalantly like the answer wouldn’t bother him in the slightest (it would no matter who.)

He doesn’t answer for what feels like a full minute, only the crinkle of paper and the pop of Viktor’s jaw with each bite. Jayce can’t even look at him when he answers.

“Ms. Young— Sky,” He corrects himself. 

Sky? Since when was he on a first name basis with her?

Jayce tries to ignore the clench of his jaw and his claws digging into his own thigh that rests there. He smiles, knowing it’s not very convincing.

“Well, I’m sure you had a great time.” He notices a mark on Viktor’s shirt, a little black streak of soot from yesterday's experiment with their new invention they began making a prototype for. The mechanical arm they had made emminated a powerful ray of light and in the midst of trying to get it to work, Jayce had accidentally charred part of Viktor’s uniform. Meaning…

“You didn’t make it home last night?” 

Viktor finally turns his whole body towards Jayce. The motion is quick and holds a heavy weight and he realizes he should not have asked that.

“Jayce, are you my mother or something? Why does it matter that I didn't make it home last night?”

He isn’t stupid, he’s seen the way Sky looks at Viktor with that blinding, loving stare every time he speaks to her. The way her cheeks would blush any time he gave her any sort of attention. He knew all too well of her crush because he acts the same way! His ears turn downward in irritation as he realizes Viktor has no idea of their assistants feelings towards him. He clenches his hand into a fist and taps it on the desk, this doesn’t go unnoticed and Viktor speaks again.

“What’s got you so worked up? Your fur is standing on end and every time I mention Sky you get this weird look on your face.” Jayce attempts to calm himself down and forces his ears back to their original state, standing to attention and facing his partner. He’s so bad at this, so terrible at acting like he hasn’t been thinking of the countless ways he would want to take Viktor right here in their workshop. He clenches his jaw once again and he has to stop himself from fully confessing then and there.

He relaxes, sighing, “I just worry. I know how Sky feels about you and I just—“

“How does she feel about me?” Viktor interjects, his voice raising slightly. He no longer looks tired now, he’s alert and he stares at his Vastayan partner and refuses to let him break eye contact. He sees a pain in Jayce’s eyes and his eyebrows furrow. 

Jayce is quiet for a moment, his right ear flicking as every version of what he wants to say travels through his mind and he decides to pick one to say. He doesn’t want to sound crazy or possessive, it was such a stereotype for someone like him to act like someone he cares for to be his property. Not that he even thought of Viktor as his property, he’s his own person after all! 

But he is yours. He belongs to you. An evil voice inside him states, tempting him to believe it. 

“Just…” He pauses, sucking in his bottom lip and chewing on it with his sharp canine. He’s close to drawing blood before he speaks again, “She likes you, like a lot…and…” He can’t look at Viktor anymore, his golden eyes flitting away from him and down to the table in front of them. He feels the heat of Viktor’s body move closer to him. He forces himself into Jayce’s peripheral to entice him to look at him again, he can’t help but relent.

“And..?” He’s so handsome. So, so handsome and Jayce feels like he’s going to pass out. Viktor’s eyes look like honey and they draw him in, the way he licks his bottom lip has his heart stutter in his chest. His emotions claw their way out from inside him and he struggles to hold his tongue, his chin trembling to withstand the words that need to escape his lips.

You never go out with me. You run off by yourself sometimes and disappear for a few days and come back and act like I wasn’t worried sick. Sky fucking likes you and I can’t stand the thought of her getting to spend time with you instead of it being me! 

“I worry you’ll be distracted…that your…commitment to our projects could diminish if you had someone distracting you.”

There’s a laugh, dry and cold. “Ha! Like I’m not already dealing with that,” Viktor bites and Jayce doesn’t understand the implications. 

Pause. There’s a beat, Jayce’s lips part as he stares in confusion, tooth gap visible and Viktor glances at it, smiling. Then he shuts his jaw tightly and stares at him with furrowed brows.

“I don’t really get it…dealing with what?”

He’s not this thick in the skull is he? Truly, he can’t be. Viktor laughs, casually resting his elbow on the desk and leaning back in his chair with an exasperated groan.

“Jayce. You’re joking, right? You’re—you’re messing with me.” 

Jayce looks at him like he grew a second head and was speaking gibberish. “I definitely am not. I don’t know what you mean.”

With a baffling look, Viktor is sliding his chair dangerously close to Jayce’s. Metal legs screech across the floor and his ears twitch at the unpleasantness, squinting one eye and cringing at the elevated sound thanks to his Valaryan blood. Viktor’s thigh is so close to his now that he feels the heat radiate from him, his face comes closer as well and it hinders Jayce speechless. He swallows nervously, his palms beginning to sweat. His lab partner stares back at him, eyes flitting across his face like he’s reading and decoding the expression he wears. There’s a hum from his throat and a clearing of Jayce’s as he desperately tries to avoid Viktor’s piercing stare.

Jayce is not one to be good at social cues. Ever since he was a child, despite being quite popular he was often picked on for “not getting a clue” as kids used to put it. It only got worse when romance was involved; Never being able to make the first move, always waiting on the sidelines or not picking up on the fact that a girl was very much into him until she finally said it. He didn’t like to assume things about anyone, especially people he had a major crush on and Viktor was exactly that. 

Why would he like Jayce, anyway? Surely Viktor could find someone way better, less nerdy, less…hairy in many places and less animalistic. 

Imagine his shock when Viktor leans in close, their breath coming together in a warmth that spreads between them. Then he finally speaks after assessing his lips for a moment.

“You don’t find yourself a distraction?”

Jayce doesn’t know how to answer that. Scratch that— he doesn’t understand the implications of what is being asked. His throat grows dry simply because of the fact Viktor is so close to him. His claws dig into his thighs and he struggles to hold eye contact for more than two seconds. He tries to answer, opening his mouth but nothing comes out. He really loses all ability to form even a single thought when Viktor’s hand is suddenly on his shoulder, slender fingers sliding up the collar of his dress shirt. His fingertips feel icy on Jayce’s simmering skin. 

“Do you ever look in a mirror? Seriously, Jayce.” His fingers slide across his thyroid muscle, going up and up until it reaches his jaw and he’s feeling the rough hairs of his beard. Jayce is in shock, too much so to move a single muscle except screw his eyes tightly shut.

He doesn’t answer a single question, but he attempts to speak, his voice coming out shaky and barely within a whisper. 

“You…Viktor, what— Are you sure you’re not still drunk?” He tries to chuckle, but it comes out awkward and breathy. He dares to open his eyes only to see Viktor is even closer to him, so close he can see the lines of bronze in his iris’ and the way his pupils dilate when their gaze meets. He can see the grooves of Viktor’s smile lines, the intensity of the purple under his eyelids and the shape of his two perfect moles. How he’s imagined kissing them gently…

“I’m sure,” He answers simply, his nails scratch gently at Jayce’s chin much like you would a dog and he almost melts at the touch. There’s no logical explanation for why he’s doing this other than the fact he’s pulling some sort of prank on Jayce, right? 

“You’ve been the distracting one.” He begins. “Always on my mind, always so close yet so far away. You eat away at the inner workings of my thoughts, Jayce.”

No.

“I think about you all day, from morning to noon to the evening. When I lay my head down I dream of you—“ Viktor is bold with his hand and moves it to card his fingers through soft brown hair, pushing it away from Jayce’s forehead. He reaches the spot where the ears on his head begin to protrude out, shocked by how soft the fur was and uses an index finger to lightly trace the natural shape of it and feel them tremble under his touch. It takes everything in Jayce to bite back a moan and before Viktor continues his gentle caressing, his hands follow back down the same path to his face once more . His thumb briefly swipes across the small scar on his eyebrow. “I think of the things we could do.”

This can’t be happening. 

He’s frozen, unmoving, afraid that if he dares move a muscle he could wake up from this dream he’s having. 

“You had me so pent up last night, all I could think to do to get rid of the frustration was go have a few drinks. You’re so unaware of what you do to me, Jayce.” Viktor cups his hand over his cheek, bringing his other hand to cup the other. His thumbs against his beard produce a quiet scratching sound and Jayce revels in the feeling, a low sound comes from his throat.

He finally speaks, his lips so, so close to Viktor’s. 

“What were you thinking we could do?” His heavy lashes flutter and his golden eyes meet his partners with a soft gaze. He’s letting himself be selfish, even for a moment. His curiosity finally getting the better of him. He had often pondered many situations with Viktor (most of them involving him laying him on the their project desk and fucking him until they’re both seeing stars) and he’s too fervent with his hunger to know exactly what the other had been picturing.

There’s a laugh that comes from his nose at the question. 

“You. On your knees and—“ Viktor’s cheeks actually turn pink and he seems almost too shy to continue. Jayce had never seen him act like that besides the many times he’s tried to get him to come along to the Council parties and meetings, always being standoffish to the idea of being perceived. He couldn’t blame him really. But seeing him like this— lids heavy with lust, lips parted and breathing unevenly, his fingers sliding back down to his throat and gently pushing them against his skin. 

“—And using your mouth to make me cum. Just using you for my own pleasure and making you beg for me to do it.”

Oh, right. Jayce had never much thought about their dynamic like that. He always tends to steer to one side of being the giver— not like he had much experience anyway, especially with another man— but he had taken the more dominant role in almost every sexual encounter he had. He had never considered the idea of begging to give.

Something clicks inside him, like flipping a switch or clicking the final puzzle piece into place. His eyes widen at the realization and his jaw almost drops to the ground. His face instantly turns red. 

They stare at each other for a moment, Jayce holding his breath and Viktor who seems like he’s waiting for a response.

“Oh…uh…” Jayce begins to tremble, his hands shake and he grapples hand fulls of the fabric of his pants to calm his nerves. The back of his neck begins to sweat and he can’t even think of what to say first. He had been imagining this for so long and he can’t even muster enough courage to tell him all the things he’s been thinking this entire time they’ve been partners. He doesn’t want to release a word vomit and yet—

“I’ve been thinking the same. Not—not the using me for your pleasure but—oh, but maybe I have…it would be nice, honestly. I’m all for it in fact! But, what I meant was I’ve been thinking about you just as much, all day, I think of you. I watch you—not like as in a creep sort of way! Just admiring you while you’re working, ya know? And—and I just—“

“Jayce.”

“Yes?” His cheeks are so red that Viktor attempts to soothe over them with his cold thumbs to diffuse the blood flow under them. He’s laughing, it’s soft and quiet between them and Jayce almost dies at the feeling of his breath coming in huffs against his face.

“Just kiss me already, will you?” 

“Oh—! Right…I’m sorry.” Could he be more cringe-worthy?

His nose gently bumps into Viktor’s and there’s a shared chuckle between them before Jayce is perfectly fitting his lips against his partners. He’s eager, almost too eager when their lips ignite this flame within him. Something shifted in the very fiber of his being and stars were circulating under his shut eyelids, almost making him dizzy. Or maybe it was just the taste on Viktor’s mouth; That sweetness of the cream he poured way too much of in his coffee, the slight bitter taste of the beans beneath it, the bacon, cheese and egg not making the best combo but that was okay because he’s kissing Viktor and Viktor is kissing him. 

There’s a hand he places on the base of his friend's neck, he’s careful with his sharp nails and warms the pale skin under his sweaty palm. He feels a chuckle escape past Viktor’s lips and into his own mouth before he‘s pulling away and speaks against his mouth.

“What?” 

Neither of them open their eyes, perhaps too shy to let the other see their expression of utter joy. Jayce feels the smile against him though when Viktor speaks.

“Nothing. Just…your palms are so sweaty. Do all Vastayan’s run this hot?”

They share a warm chuckle together.

“Just me, I think.”

And they continue. Jayce’s thumb swipes across the skin it reaches, his large hand could almost wrap around Viktor’s neck and it awakes something primal within him.

Mine. He thinks to himself, his hand tightening just slightly. He feels the bob of Viktor’s Adam’s apple under the pad of his thumb and hears the gasp escape him. Then he feels a tug on his shirt, and Viktor’s lips move much more incessantly than before like he’s eager for more. Jayce obliges, his mouth slotting perfectly against his and lips go from damp to wet and soaking with spit. Suddenly, Viktor’s tongue slides eagerly into Jayce’s and he’s caught off guard and his hand flinches around the base of his neck again.

“Mmmph—!” Viktor makes a needy sound, leaning closer, so close he’s practically about to fall off his chair. He kisses the man like this will be the last chance he gets, or like a man starved for any sort of touch. Jayce has never had such a partner react this way but it kindles a flame of intrigue, wondering where else he could touch Viktor to make him react in such a way.

He comes up with an idea. He pulls his mouth away and opens his eyes to feast upon the view that is Viktor with plump, red, kiss-bitten lips and a glossy glaze over his heavy lidded eyes. 

“Come here, Vik,” Jayce practically growls, his voice deep and purring in his chest as he wraps his clawed hand around Viktor’s thin arm. 

He makes quick work off his chair, leans a hand on the table to support his bad leg and gently sets a knee on the available spot outside Jayce’s thighs. He sets each knee down and slowly sits his ass against Jayce’s thick thighs.

It wasn’t until Viktor scoots himself to get comfortable that they both realize Jayce is rock hard. There’s a pause when his hands grab his partner’s waist and his fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt out of desperation. Jayce slowly slides his eyes up Viktor’s body to meet his wide eyed stare. Both of them are red faced and lips are parted slightly in shock, Viktor is the first to smile.

“Seems like I get to you too?” He supports a hand on his large shoulder and his hips slide deliberately up and down the length under himself. Jayce bites back a moan, sucking in his bottom lip and daring to keep eye contact with this cruel side he’s never seen of Viktor. 

The Vastayan’s ears flatten against his hair, with a mind of their own it paints a picture for Viktor exactly what Jayce could be thinking. He wants to reach out and touch them to see if he could get another reaction out of him, he’s been hypothesizing the effect of touching them at the base, or grabbing his tail (unfortunately he can’t reach that in the moment but he’s hoping he’ll have a chance soon). But instead, he continues to drag his crotch across the man beneath him, moaning when his nails dig into his skin. The sounds dripping from his mouth has Jayce believing he’s in the presence of angels, only someone as perfect and beautiful as Viktor could make such heavenly sounds.

There’s another sound that crawls up Jayce’s throat after his eyes screw shut. He can’t take it much longer, the feeling of Viktor dragging himself across him has him choking on his words. He tries to speak but it only comes out in a canine-like rumble in his chest. His hands grip Viktor so hard that the other is almost afraid he’d draw blood.

“Viktor,” Jayce growls, his grip is strong enough to completely still his hips from anymore torture. He needs him now. He needs to claim Viktor as his own, bite him in places where others can see and know that he belongs to a Vastayan, fill him so deeply so all Viktor can think is Jayce, Jayce, Jayce. 

He knows he’s not Viktor’s first and it’s not like that bothers him. He knows he hasn’t been sexually active after they met and thinking on it, Jayce wonders if this whole time Viktor has been wanting him the moment they agreed to be partners. It fuels him with a possessiveness and it’s so palpable in the air between them. Viktor’s eyes widen with an understanding almost immediately and he’s being lifted faster than he can protest.

“Jayce, what are you—?” He’s being picked up, Jayce is grabbing him at his hips and lifting him off his lap with such ease, what strength he has…it makes Viktor’s mind spin with desire.

He’s set gently on the desk in front of Jayce, he has to separate his legs to let the larger one in front of him fit between them. His elbows immediately find their spot on Jayce’s shoulders and Viktor’s hands tangle through his hair again; He can’t help it, it’s just so soft! His fingers massage at the base of Jayce’s velvet ears once more and he studies the way his partner's lips part to release a longing sound. His hands come up between them and he’s grabbing the first button on Viktor’s collar.

There’s a moment where they’re both holding their breath, Jayce pauses for a moment to do so and it feels like he’s asking for permission for a moment but ultimately decides that he can’t wait for permission. Viktor sitting here in front of him is enough consent for him. 

With both holding bated breath, Jayce begins unbuttoning Viktor’s shirt. His delicate claws are careful to not scrape against his skin and he feels his hands squeeze his shoulders with anticipation. It’s quiet between them, the room becomes still the more Jayce unbuttons and he looks up to catch Viktor’s stare when he reaches the last button. They look at each other for a moment, taking in the reality before them with a synced sigh. Viktor is first to lean in and kiss Jayce this time, his thumbs circling around the collar of his shirt like he’s done this a hundred times. They kiss tenderly as Jayce unfastens his shirt completely.

He pulls away then, ears rotating to face the man in front of him completely in curiosity, one flicks gently when Jayce’s hands slide beneath the fabric and push it off Viktor’s shoulders. 

He’s gorgeous. Of course he is, he doesn’t think there could be any part of Viktor that isn’t. Moles and freckles decorate his skin like the night sky, constellations travel across the pale skin and Jayce is already letting his fingertips follow the path of stars. His eyes dart across his chest and that’s when Jayce sees it.

Scarring around his nipples and just below the curve of where his pecs begin. The skin is pink, lighter in color than the rest of him and Jayce understands what the scars mean. He’s enthralled by the beauty and only wishes to see more.

There’s a break in the silence when Jayce swipes his thumb across one of Viktor’s nipples, he makes a sound that’s akin to a whine and Jayce barely notices his tail begins to wag with interest. He swipes it again except uses both thumbs, the pads of his fingers follow the faint scars and back up to draw slow circles around his areolas. 

“Jayce…” Viktor sighs, his chin ducks into his chest and his eyes squeeze shut. His composure is already waning and he doesn’t think he can wait much longer. 

Jayce seems equally as impatient and is leaving a gentle kiss on the juncture of Viktor’s collar bone. 

“Take off your pants, will you?” He murmurs with his teeth against skin and hands gripping wherever he can find purchase. It’s messy and awkward when Viktor’s hands fumble with the button of his trousers and he’s shimmying out of them on the desk. Jayce has to pull away to help him out of them and he’s met with a pair of black undergarments. His acute sense of smell catches the scent of Viktor’s excitement and his ears seem to perk up at it. His mouth begins to water and Jayce has trouble deciding what to do next.

Viktor slides his underwear off, his bare ass on the wooden desk. It’s not very comfortable— especially for him— but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest when he looks down to anticipate Jayce’s next move.

“Have you done this before?” Jayce suddenly asks. He already knows the answer but needs the confirmation.

“A few times,” Viktor says in a quiet voice. “You?”

Jayce swallows hard, his hands falter and loosen on Viktor’s skin momentarily.

“Same here…it’s been a long time.” His gaze follows down the trail of brown hair that begins at Viktor’s belly button and down to the view of him hard and waiting.

Poking between patches of coarse hair is his partner's clit. It’s protruding and hard. He swears he sees it twitch when one of Jayce’s hands follow down the hair and to his pubic bone where he braces his four fingers over the bush of hair and lets his thumb hover his vulva.

“I know my way around this, though.” He breathes a chuckle, mouth open and watering.

He can feel Viktor tense up when Jayce’s thumb presses on the underside of his enlarged clit. He strokes back and forth a few times, watches the way it responds to his touch. He’s quick to notice the slick slowly oozing out of Viktor and forming a small puddle on the desk. There’s a feeling that blooms inside Jayce’s chest when Viktor responds to his continuous prodding with a deep moan. His thumb swipes down to where his entrance lays open and waiting, he’s gentle not to nick him with his claw.

“Jayce—“ He chokes on his sentence when Jayce slowly inserts his thumb into Viktor’s aching hole. It squeezes around the digit and he instantly wonders what it would feel like to have him squeezing around his cock. 

Viktor already looks spent, he’s panting and widening the space between his legs further and further for Jayce to see exactly what he’s doing. He responds well to his touch, gasping and moaning when Jayce grabs him roughly and scoots him closer to the edge of the desk. 

Anyone could come in. Anyone. But neither one seems to care— not when Jayce is taking his damp thumb out of his lab partner and circles his index and middle finger around the clenching entrance before him. 

“It’s been awhile for you, right?” He asks gently, like honey dripping from his mouth he sounds sweet and light. The Vastayan awaits the response by running the slick up and down Viktor’s vulva and circles around his dick slowly. He feels him twitch under his touch and it fills Jayce’s chest with a sense of pride. His mouth curls into a smile as it settles in his thoughts— Mine.

“Yeah…it has,” Viktor responds with a deep sigh. “What about it— ah!” His hand shoots for Jayce’s large shoulder, nails immediately digging into the fabric of his button up and his head throws back. Jayce thrust two fingers deep inside him. With a lustful gaze, he watches the way the older ones Adam’s apple bob when he releases an onslaught of pleas. His bad leg bends at the knee as much as it can and he holds it open to give Jayce more access. 

There’s a sense of satisfaction in seeing Viktor come undone by Jayce’s touch. He’s been dreaming of this day for so long and had fallen asleep quite a few times to this exact image. It’s festering and eating away at his mind, slowly consuming him and chipping away at what sanity he had left.

“I’ve got to make sure you’re ready for me, right?” Jayce asks in a hush tone. He’s lifting himself off his seat so he can tower over Viktor who’s clenching around his fingers and leaning back on his elbows. Jayce places his one free hand to brace himself on the table top and lean in close to press his forehead to Viktor’s.

“You’ll let me make you mine, right? Please, tell me you’ll be mine.” He sounds desperate but Jayce doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. 

Viktor sees the glimpse of his tail wagging frantically. He barely can focus when Jayce fits another finger inside him and he feels fingerpads prod and slide inside him. His fingers are so big, he knows this from the many times Jayce had laid his hands over his partners shoulders, or the way he gently caresses his warm hand over his back. Having them inside him however, proved to be a greater task and he wonders just how big Jayce is in those trousers of his.

Jayce is growing impatient, he knows he should stretch Viktor out more, he’s so tight around three of his fingers, he’s afraid that his dick might be too much of a task to work up to. God, he has to be inside him, though.

“Make me yours,” Viktor finally gasps. Their glossy eyes meet once more in a half-lidded, drunken stupor and their lips part as they begin to moan in unison. Jayce feels his pants strain against his erection. He can’t wait any longer.

With swiftness, he’s unbuttoning his pants, removing his hand from inside the older one and focuses on the painful pressure of the fabric encasing his excitement. 

Viktor works on the shirt he’s still wearing (the damn thing) and his soft fingers make quick work of the buttons. Furry hair covers Jayce’s chest and there’s a surge that causes Viktor’s heart to falter and his stomach flip at the sight of brown hair. His hand pets at it and lets his fingers travel across down to his lower abdomen. His stomach rises and falls with each harsh intake of breath from Jayce and Viktor is too preoccupied by the gorgeous hair that creates a trail over his pelvic area to notice that his partner is now naked in front of him. 

He’s too big. Much too big. Viktor’s stomach drops to his feet at the sight. Coarse dark hair frames his large dick and he glances at the already leaking tip. He takes in a deep breath and looks up at Jayce through his lashes.

“And how exactly do we expect this to fit?” He jokes. Jayce grabs himself at the base and guides the tip to Viktor’s entrance where he swirls the slick around slowly. Both of them lock their jaws open and release a moan together as he slides his shaft up Viktor’s vulva and thrusts lazily at his clit. He feels his partner get wetter with each second. Jayce braces each hand on the desk then and lowers his forehead to press it against Viktor’s to grab his gaze with his own.

“We’ll make it fit. You’re mine, remember?” He says with a desperation that’s palpable between them. Viktor can only nod, his heart in his throat. Jayce directs his tip back to his entrance and barely pushes in.

“Shaped just for me. Only I can have this.” He doesn’t just say, but demands it, not giving Viktor a say in the matter but they both know he wants this just the same.

“Yeah…” His partner breathes, staring down to where they’re almost connected. “Just for you, Jayce. Please…”

He pushes in without a single thought. He’s large and the head of his cock splits Viktor open in a delicious way. The warmth and wetness has him moaning and dropping his face into the others neck, he stills for a moment to catch his breath.

Viktor gasps when he feels Jayce twitch inside him and his walls clench and spasm with a need to suck more of him in. His body gives itself freely to Jayce, relaxing in a way it never has before and pulls him in so easily. He shifts on the desk in a more comfortable position, no longer is his ass halfway off the table but it sits fully on the wood and he draws his legs up and bent to rest the heels of his feet right on the edge. This gives Jayce the perfect view when he pulls away to see how much he’s gotten to fit. Just halfway it looks like.

His large fingers slide down Viktor’s body and meets his enlarged clit, poising two fingers on either side of it and begins to jerk him off slowly. His hips move precisely, pushing more inside every time he feels Viktor’s walls unclench, there’s a pattern to it much like his onslaught of whining and moans, repeating Jayce’s name like a mantra. There’s a system to claim Viktor as his own and Jayce is willing to be patient to get the results he’s aiming for.

“That’s it,” He breathes. “Taking me so well.” Their pelvic bones finally meet, coarse hair mixing together and skin on skin in the most intimate way. Jayce lets them rest like this for a moment, waiting for Viktor to catch his breath. He’s still barely said anything and knowing his lab partner for so long he knows that’s a good sign. Viktor is always one to stay silent until something irks him, or something doesn’t look right.

He keeps his intense golden eyes on Jayce and occasionally flits down to look how deep he is inside him. He finally looks again when their hips press together. Viktor is placing a hand on his lower stomach and presses down gently.

“Can feel you, right here…” He reaches to grab Jayce’s wrist and forces him to feel the same spot. 

There is the slightest bump and it fills Jayce with something animalistic. His tail begins to wag again and his ears turn and lay flat against his head as determination blooms in his chest.

He’s grabbing Viktor’s waist, the other protests for a second in a startle.

“What—“

Jayce pulls back, pulling out of him just halfway only to slam his hips back into Viktor’s. There’s a startling yelp from the man under him and his hands find purchase on his shoulders again to brace himself for the thrusting. 

The thrusts are relentless, Jayce is determined to watch the way Viktor’s stomach bulges just slightly with each hard plunge into him. They both watch in awe, his body giving in to his shape so easily and responding by tightening around him in an attempt to keep him inside.

It’s so risky to do this. They both know it, it had been eating away at the back of their minds. Anyone could walk in and see Jayce, a Vastayan plowing into his human partner and abusing his pussy in the most perfect way. Something about the thought though made Jayce fuck him harder and lean down to speak.

“Thought about how anyone could walk in,” He grunts. Viktor’s jaw locks open and he nods, looking up at him with tears in his eyes. Maybe it was from the pain of his thrusts or the pleasure of it, they didn’t seem to care or linger too much on the thought.

“Me too,” He gasps.

Jayce releases a precise shove inside Viktor, the head of his cock kissing his cervix. He thrusts a few more times before growling out another sentence.

“Stand there and watch me claim you. You’re mine and no one else gets to have you. They have to stand there and watch how your body only responds to me. This—“ His fingers press onto Viktor’s dick and he’s letting out a cry that they’re sure could be heard down the hall.

“Is mine, right?”

“Y-yes,” Viktor gasps, “Do prdele, Jayce, yes. It’s yours. I’m all yours.”

He tightens around Jayce’s dick, his clenching walls shudder around the thickness of him and he begins to convulse.

“Jayce, I—ungh— I’m—kurva— Going to cum.”

He’s close too quickly, but just as he confesses, Jayce realizes he’s just as close as him. The tightening in his lower abdomen finally moves to the forefront of his mind but he’s eager to make Viktor come to first. His fingers make quick work of his dick, drawing tight circles on it and stuffing his face back into his neck.

Viktor’s hands find themselves in his hair, his delicate fingers grabbing at his ears again and feeling the soft base of them. It triggers Jayce to release a moan and his hips falter in their rhythm slightly. Viktor flutters around him, a filthy wet sound fills the room including the trail of curses in his mother tongue.

“Viktor—“ Jayce says hoarsely, “Come on,” His fingers never cease, Viktor’s body responds by arching his back and hyperventilating as he draws closer and closer to his orgasm.

It hits him hard, he releases a drawn out moan of Jayce’s name and the other watches in awe as Viktor’s body releases a spray of a liquid. His eyes widen, halting all movement for a second before continuing to help Viktor ride his pleasure out. The liquid soaks their skin and the filthy sound of skin on skin increases. Viktor is throwing an arm over his eyes, face growing red as he’s too ashamed to even look at Jayce anymore.

He feels it run down the back of his thighs and Jayce feels it around his dick and drip onto the floor. He barely has time to even ask what it was before Viktor contracts around him just once and it’s enough to draw him to his own orgasm.

He pulls out quickly, as much as he would love to bury deep inside and finish inside him, he’s polite enough to at least paint the cessation of his pleasure over Viktor’s torso. 

They’re silent, both catching their breaths as their minds slowly come to and the clarity makes its way into their bodies.

Jayce is first to come to, apologizing profusely for making a mess all over him and quickly drawing his under and pants back up before scrambling away to grab some paper towels. Viktor rests on the desk, his legs have drawn in, there’s still an arm over his eyes and he’s let his back rest fully. It’s uncomfortable in his brace but he doesn’t care, not when he embarrassingly let himself go like that in front of Jayce.

He’s back and immediately helping wipe his cum off his stomach. Apologies pour out of his mouth and Viktor takes a peak to watch the concern grow on Jayce’s face.

“I didn’t mean to— well, I meant to but— what I mean is— oh, God—“ A stark contrast to the person that was just twelve inches inside him and claiming Viktor as his property. 

He smirks, no longer hiding from Jayce and rises back on his elbows again.

“Hey,” He says gently. “It’s okay. I’m embarrassed I squirted all over you.”

Jayce stares at him blankly. “’Squirted?’” He repeats. He wipes more cum off the brace around Viktor’s torso. “Is that what it’s called? I’ve never had someone do that while we were…yeah.”

“Neither have I. I’ve only ever been able to do it myself.” Viktor confesses with a slight smile. 

Jayce blushes. “Don’t tell me that.” Viktor cocks his head with the silent question.

“I’ll get too possessive over you. It’ll go to my head.”

“I think we’ve established clearly who I belong to. Wouldn’t you agree?”

They look at each other for the first time since they came down from their high and Viktor admires the softness of Jayce’s gaze. There’s a hopeful glint on Jayce’s eyes and he tries not to smile too eagerly.

“You…you mean that?” 

He doesn’t answer but instead draws him close and gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s clean up. I’ll help.”

“No!” Jayce protests, “Let me! You’ll be sore soon enough and I can’t have you overworking yourself.” 

Viktor’s stomach flips and he feels like he might throw up over how sweet of a lab partner he has. No one had ever admired him the way Jayce did, let alone just noticing him. He was so used to being the last one to be thought of that watching Jayce clean the area around them, on his hands and knees cleaning the floor. Then wiping Viktor’s legs with a damp cloth and even going so far as to help him back into his clothes has Viktor feeling something he had never felt before.

For the first time he felt cared for and loved.

Once they finally collected themselves, Jayce couldn't seem to meet Viktor’s gaze anymore. 

“What is it?” The older asks, grabbing his cane and making his way over to Jayce.

He awkwardly stands in place, hands at his side and tail tucking in between his legs. Viktor has the urge to reach out and touch him, an instinct he’s been fighting for a good long while.

“I just…” His cheeks grow red. “I can’t believe I said and did those things…I felt like another person…”

Viktor chuckles and elbows Jayce gently. “It was definitely a side to you I had never seen before. But I’m just wondering when we’ll do it again.”

Jayce’s ears perk up and his tail stands to attention, he fights the wagging but loses the battle.

“Really? You…you want to do this again?”

For someone so smart he truly can be the dumbest person. 

“Jayce, would you mind joining me later tonight in my chambers for uh…part two, if you will?”

“Yes, I’d love to.” He says without a single thought.

“Then,” Viktor pats a hand on his back. “Let’s get back to work, hm?”

They walk back to the very desk and Viktor begins reorganizing the pile they had pushed aside in their aroused state.

“Your hangover gone now, then?” Jayce prods gently. 

“For sure. I’ll go to you to cure any crapulence, how about that?” 

He agrees and after a few more seconds, Jayce finally asks a question that’s been bothering him for a while.

“So…you don’t like Ms. Young, right?”

Viktor slowly turns to look at him, his mouth a straight line and eyes glaring.

“You’re really asking me that?”

Jayce nods. “Right. Sorry. Understood.” And he goes back to the equation that had him stumped earlier.

[livwritesstuff]

hi! so i am currently working my way through your steddie dads tag (and the fics on ao3--truly we have been blessed, i love slice of life) AND i saw this post about icks. it made me think about my best friend who is currently dating someone who has so many of her icks but she loves him so it doesn't matter. i was wondering if you've done something where steve and eddie explain their icks to each other?? i feel like there was a tiktok trend where partners did this but i can't remember lol. anyway, loving the series! thanks for sharing <3

lol i’ve seen that trend too - they’re very funny. i dont think hazel would try to film it, however i do think filming the initial vid leads to this (unfilmed) conversation.

Eddie: Name one thing about me that gives you the ick, Steve.

Eddie: I dare you.

Steve, without hesitation: Won’t go to therapy.

Eddie, affronted: Excuse me. I used to go. I’m cured now.

Steve: Cured of what?

Steve: Ed, you’ve had untreated ADHD for so long that I don’t even bother looking in the normal places when you lose shit.

Steve: I go straight for the fridge.

Steve: Yesterday I found your wallet in the trash.

Eddie: Okay, what about you and your whole won’t use new things schtick?!?

Eddie: You buy new shit and then literally never use it.

Eddie: Like those sneakers from a month ago that are still in the box.

Steve: Yeah, because then they won’t be new anymore.

Eddie: Oh my god, Steve, that’s so annoying.

Steve: Well, it's gotta be better than you buying new shit before the old shit needs to be replaced.

Eddie: That’s called being preemptive, Steve.

Steve: No it’s not, because you use the new shit right away and then we end up with double the amount of half-used stuff.

Eddie: I don’t do that!

Steve: Yes you do.

Steve: Pens.

Steve: You always buy new pens before the old ones run out of ink but instead of using up the old ones, you immediately open the new box. 

Steve: And now our house is filled with half-empty pens.

Steve: Drives me nuts.

[lostinforestbound]

Happy 100 followers! I can't believe there's 100 of you so interested in my silly little writings, I am so so grateful! As promised, here is a little fic of comforting Rolan! I wish we were able to hug him in game, but this will have to do!

Rolan/M!Tav

You're Not Alone, You Will See

Tav swears Rolan hasn't slept in their shared bed for weeks at this point, and he's getting very concerned for him. Why won't he sleep? He needs to find out or he'll collapse where he stands.

Word Count: 3.3k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Explicit, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Tav's POV, Mentions of Lorroakan

NSFW under cut, Minors DNI

Night has long been spread across the city of Baldur's Gate, where the world is now asleep. Silence carries along the perfect night; no wind rustles the trees or whistles along the windows, no banter of drunken patrons fighting in the streets, and the sky is clear, letting the stars bloom.

The world is asleep, all except for Tav and Rolan.

Bored out of his mind, Tav stares at the ceiling as the moonlight shines through the large windows of his and Rolan's shared bedroom. He can't sleep at all, because once again, Rolan is not in bed with him.

Rolan's side of the bed is very cold when he feels around it, the sheets and blanket are not ruffled by one hair. He didn't even sit on it today, which is already concerning in itself. He knows his lover has been busy, being the new master of Ramazith's tower, but what could he possibly be doing this late at night? What has his mind so consumed that he couldn't lay with his partner after a long day? He knows Rolan has been having difficulty sleeping as of late, but this is getting ridiculous.

So with a small huff, he sits up, bones popping quietly in his shoulders and back as he stretches. He’ll have to go find him in the depths of the tower, it seems.

Shuffling out of the bed, he finds his red robe to get into, not wanting to shiver in the cold air inside their home. The robe was a gift from Rolan, thrust into his hands by him after lecturing the hero about only walking around in his undergarments. The indecency, he cried! But Tav saw how flustered his face was during the berating, and he did his best not to laugh at Rolan's embarrassment.

A fonder memory of Rolan that makes him smile, even if the event was only a few weeks ago. He slides on the slippers Rolan gave him as well; they're high quality and incredibly soft. They came with the robe, Rolan saying the floors are dirty, and why in the hells is he walking around barefoot anyways?

Laughing lightly at the memory, he finds a short candle on the bedside table and lights it up; he doesn't want to walk anywhere too blindly. He exits the room, walking down the long hall as he thinks where Rolan could be. There is no reason to be too worried, but he is nonetheless. As much as they made this tower their home, including Cal and Lia who have their very own section in the tower, he has noticed Rolan being...closed off. Not on purpose, and not in front of him or his siblings, but there's something about the tower that makes his lover a bit uneasy, and he can guess the reason why. He sees the way his mood shifts when he thinks he's alone, staring in the general direction where Lorroakan used to reside.

It doesn’t take long to find him, in the middle of his study hunching over his desk. From what he can tell, he’s looking at a few papers along with a book; but he’s staring at it as if it’s a new language that needs years to decipher, a sense of absolute dread in his posture. There’s clear exhaustion on his features, dark circles under his eyes as he rubs at his temples as if that would get rid of his current headache.

This has been happening for weeks after Lorroakan’s death. Time and time again he’s reorganized tomes, cleaned the space, put in new furniture, and even got an entirely new bed for them both. It never seemed enough. He could never tell Tav why it wasn’t enough. He didn’t have the words to describe it.

But Tav does vividly remember waking in their bed, seeing Rolan's pillow torn into by his claws while the man slept. It quickly got replaced, but he refused to acknowledge and talk about it, so Tav left it alone.

Now here he is, slaving away to understand the same tome he was trying to decipher for three nights now, doing everything he can but actually sleep in his own bed.

As Tav slowly approaches, he wonders if he’s doing this to himself on purpose. Is there something haunting him? Why does he torture himself so?

He makes his steps louder to make sure Rolan is aware of his presence before putting his free hand on his shoulder. He feels his shoulders tense under the touch before relaxing, not protesting when a thumb lightly massages the base of his skull. “My love, is this book so important that you can’t join me in bed?” He asks, leaning in close by his left ear to examine the papers.

“It’s been three nights, and I can’t figure it out.” He murmurs, sounding more defeated than he’s ever heard. It makes Tav’s heart hurt, knowing that he’s struggling.

The papers strewn about confuse him as he takes in their contents; Rolan's notes make absolutely no sense. His writing is erratic and unfinished as if every thought was abandoned for a new one in rapid succession.

He puts the candle down on the desk and leans against his lover's back. “Maybe, just maybe, it’s because you’re tired?”

He huffs in annoyance, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and index finger.

“Rolan, you haven’t been to bed in weeks. I’ve seen you sleep in odd places. The doorway, the desk, the floor…what’s going on with you?”

He sees the way Rolan bites his lip, golden eyes trailing the pages in front of him but not truly reading them. His lover opens his mouth as if to make an excuse, but nothing ever comes out. While he's distracted, Tav gently folds a blank piece of paper that he finds in the mess on the desk, tucking it on the page Rolan's currently on and shutting the tome.

“We don’t have to talk about it now, just come to bed.”

He starts to protest with a clenched jaw, almost insulted by it as if the book is more important. “But- This is-“

“Rolan, please? I miss holding you.” He whispers, kissing the back of his head.

He sighs heavily, exhaustion setting deep into his bones as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Fine.”

The scowl on his face softens as Tav pecks his cheek, encouraging him with a pull of his hand to stand up. He does so without a fuss, hand oddly tight around Tav's.

Tav sees Rolan wince at the echo of their footsteps, and part of the action disturbs him. He's never seen him shrink so much at a sound, and he wonders what is going on inside his head. For him, he picks up the pace a little, pretending he wants to go to bed badly.

He kisses the top of his hand before settling on top of their bed. Rolan looks as though he's about to make an excuse to not lie down, so he spreads his legs and speaks up, "Let me give you a massage."

"This time of- why?" Rolan questions incredulously.

"You're slouching. You might have some tension. Let me?"

After some reluctance, he settles between Tav's legs, and Tav begins to press his thumbs between his shoulder blades. The amount of knots he finds is almost amazing, and part of him wants to chastise Rolan for letting it get this bad, but now is not the time. For every knot, he carefully kneads the bundle until it's completely gone before moving to the next one. Sometimes Rolan's tail flicks in irritation, most likely at the temporary pain, before it falls limply when the knot fades.

He's unsure how much time passes since it's already deep into the night, but eventually, he makes it through all the knots he can. Rolan is relaxed back against his chest, and he sees the rise and fall of his own with his slow breathing. Without thinking, his hands slide to the front of his chest, feeling along the ridges that decorate it. Rolan's breath stutters under the caresses, the tip of his tail flicking back in forth as it slaps against the bedding. He smiles against the skin on the back of his neck, trailing his hands over the soft swell of his stomach and to his groin. He palms the growing erection, making Rolan inhale sharply, and he worries that he misread what Rolan wanted.

That was until Rolan grinds into his hand with a shuddering sigh, eyes half-lidded with a flush forming on his tired face. “Please,” He begs quietly, eyes weary.

How could he say no?

He looks so beautiful like this, even with the exhaustion on his features.

"Lay down," he whispers.

As Tav gets out of bed, Rolan complies by scooting down to lay against the pillows, getting comfortable. Confusion paints his features when Tav grabs an extra pillow and puts it under his hips, but the unspoken question dies on his tongue as Tav kisses him. Their lips easily glide together, and Tav takes his time removing his clothes during. Rolan just lets him do all the work. In all honesty, he looks too tired to do much. Based on the nervous look when he pulls away, it seems he's worried that it'll turn Tav off, but he gives him a reassuring smile as he shucks off his robe and undergarments.

Rolan obediently opens his mouth for Tav when he leans to kiss him again, letting his tongue slide in and tangle with his. He feels Rolan wrap his arms around his neck, keeping him as close as possible as Tav explores his mouth, running his tongue along the sharp teeth that adorn there. The first time they'd kissed like this, Tav cut the muscle on the teeth, and Rolan immediately pulled away when he tasted blood. He couldn't kiss him like that for a while and he idly wondered if Rolan would have not reacted the way he did if Tav was also a tiefling.

Enough of that, he's getting distracted.

Rolan spreads his legs as Tav grabs a vial of oil from the side of the bed, uncorking it with his teeth and pouring it onto two fingers. Rolan instinctively tenses when he feels a finger gently massaging his entrance, but never breaching. Circling it one, twice, three times. Tav always had to tease him a little bit, but he gently kisses his brow as he finally sinks into him by the first knuckle.

Pathetically, Rolan lets out a groan, quickly biting his lip afterward. They haven’t done this in weeks, but just from this, he can see he’s already half-hard. He probably didn’t even have time to get off recently, he was so focused on his work in the tower.

It only encourages Tav to make this even better.

His finger sinks in further to the second knuckle, searching for that little bundle of nerves inside of him. He knows he finds it when Rolan cries out, his tail wrapping around his arm tight. He grins, pushing in the second finger, and continues to press against his prostate. Tav swallows his moans with his mouth, scissoring him open and getting him ready. As much as he may want to torture Rolan a little by dragging it out, it’s been a while, and it’s not one of those nights.

Though, the fact that there's no witty banter this time around worries him. Rolan is the type to tease, provoke, and sass him even during the most vulnerable moments of intimacy. He has a few working theories of why he does it; the vulnerability can be uncomfortable sometimes, so he speaks to calm himself down. He could be genuinely having fun with him, the banter that they have relaxing him. Or the simplest of all, he could just be a very talkative person.

Rolan has barely spoken, and it scares him.

He takes it as slow as he can, slicking his cock and guilding it to Rolan's hole. Pressing his tip into his entrance, he goes inch by inch and quietly moans at the tightness of his twitching rim. He has to stop for a moment when Rolan clenches around him, vision blurring slightly at the heat of it all. Tieflings run pretty hot, and somehow he struggles to remember that; it surprises him every time, without fail.

"Gods you're so tight," he breathes out slowly, leaning down to kiss his chest. Nails grip his hair as he licks one of his nipples, lavishing the sensitive nub with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Rolan keens high in his throat, wrapping his legs around Tav's waist as he tries to spear himself more onto his cock. Tav does not let him, gripping his hips almost harshly and holding him in place. If he tries that again, this would all be over too soon.

Rolan gives him a weak glare before tilting his head back with a moan, Tav fully seating himself inside him. He tries to control his breathing, but it fails when Tav does a test roll; he knows he's hitting all the right places by the way his body spasms.

Tav stares down at him in a calm awe, grinding some more while he takes Rolan’s jaw in his free hand. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

He sees how Rolan's cock throbs at the praise, and how he can no longer make eye contact. Tav kisses him either way, albeit a little urgently as he finally starts thrusting into him.

Rolan's hair fans out over his pillow as his head tilts back further, and Tav strains his neck a bit to follow him. His face is debauched in ways Tav can never describe, and he is mesmerized by it. How can someone have such a perfect, flushed, fucked-out face? He can't help but hold his freckled face, needing a closer look.

"You're perfect, so good for me, my love." He whispers against his lips, wanting to see every little reaction he can pull from his lover.

Rolan's eyes get very teary, either from the words or the overwhelming pleasure he feels, he's not sure. His voice shudders as he glances away, unable to keep eye contact. "That's- hah- k-keep talking."

"You are the most amazing person I know. No one ever compares to you; not in looks, smarts, or ambition. I want to give you everything- fuck- you are my everything, and so much more. Gods, look at you..." He murmurs, softening his hold and cupping his face more tenderly. "I'm so thankful I'm the only one who gets to see you like this."

He didn’t expect Rolan to start crying.

At first, he’s instantly filled with dread, and his mind races to figure out what he did wrong. Did he say something he didn't like? Did he hurt him? Did this not feel good? Does he want to stop?

Before he could pull away and ask him, Rolan holds himself tight against him as he digs his heels into his lower back.

“Don’t stop, please don't stop, please please please-“ He sobs, nails raking across his shoulder blades and leaving angry red welts behind.

Instinctively, Tav cradles him close as he picks up the pace, letting him hide into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Rolan sinks his teeth into Tav’s shoulder in an attempt to quiet his moans and cries, the mix of emotions and pleasure almost stunning him. He’s a whimpering mess, the muscles of his abdomen clenching tight before he finally shouts out, his spend decorating the expanse of his and Tav's stomachs with his voice completely shattered.

"Rolan-" He groans out, hips faltering in their pace briefly before he buries himself deep inside him, filling him up to the brim.

It takes him almost too long to come back to himself, drenched in sweat and pressing his forehead into Rolan's collarbones. He mindlessly kisses his sternum as the pleasurable fog clears, running his hand soothingly along his lover's hip bone.

Tav carefully pulls out with a slight grimace, looking down at Rolan’s glazed eyes as he tries to catch his breath. He pecks his forehead, about to move away, but Rolan clings to him. He’s still sobbing and weakly tugging him closer. Obliging, Tav pulls him into his body, littering kissing across his face even as the tears keep coming. He doesn't comment on it, only whispering sweet nothings as he soothes him. He will most likely be embarrassed about it later, but for now, Rolan accepts the praises.

His grip tightens when Tav tries to get up again.

“I just want to clean you up. Is that okay?”

Rolan sniffs, reluctantly letting him go.

He makes his movements as quick as possible, snatching up a clean cloth and some water for him. With a quiet plea, and encourages Rolan to sit up and drink some of it, which he thankfully does as Tav gently wipes down their fluids off of them. They will have to clean the sheets in the morning, but for now, this will do just fine.

Soon they lay together once more, Rolan hiding in Tav’s neck as the tears finally dry. “…I’m tired.”

"I know. Sleep.”

"No, not like that. I'm...I'm really tired." He murmurs, almost inaudible.

Tav hums quietly in acknowledgment, nuzzling the side of his face. So depression decided to strike him recently, huh? That's okay, he will be here for him.

"I'm tired of feeling like a fool," he continues after a moment of silence.

"That tome has you this wrapped up?"

"The more I try to decipher, the more it becomes utterly jumbled. How am I supposed to be the master of the damn tower if I can't decipher a damn book, with a guide?"

"...This isn't just about the tome, is it?"

"Lorroakan could decipher an entire book within hours." He bitterly states.

There it is.

"Your nightmares are back." Tav says matter of factly, gaze softening, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"The contents of the nightmares were idiotic at best. I didn't- I thought-" He takes a quick breath before sighing it out. "They're ridiculous. I shouldn't be so affected by them."

"But you are, Rolan."

"He's dead. I won." He hisses out, ready to bare his teeth.

"Yet here you are, trying not to cry at the mere mention of him," he says, not unkindly. "It's only been a few weeks. None of us expect you to be okay right away."

"I should be."

"Rolan, I would be more worried if it didn't affect you."

He scoffs but buries his face deeper into his neck, and Tav feels the wetness of tears running down his skin once more. Tav sighs slowly to calm himself first, then speaks to him again.

"I love you," he murmurs, taking one of his hands in his and squeezing. "And I adore you. You mean a lot to me, and you mean a lot to Cal and Lia. Let us help you."

Rolan doesn't say another word, but the way he squeezes his hand back speaks volumes to him. It doesn't take him long to fall asleep exactly where he is, as if his body finally realized it wasn't in danger anymore. It is within minutes, and it's the fastest he's ever seen Rolan fall asleep.

Kissing his sweat-streaked brow, he fully relaxes into the bed and stays with him. The contents of Rolan's nightmares are a mystery to him for now, and while he can guess all night what they were about this time, he's too exhausted to think.

For now, he will sleep with his lover and hope they will be able to talk in the morning.

"You're not alone, and you will see that, love. One day." Tav whispers.

[penny00dreadful]

CW for this chapter on AO3

Part 1/ Part 6/ AO3

Eddie coughed out a mouthful of sand, choking on it and scrubbing it out of his eyes, squinting around, trying to catch his breath as the little grains assaulting his body slowly started to disappear, as though they were being pulled away from him.

As Eddie’s vision began to clear he saw that yes, the sand was being pulled away from him, drawn up into a swirling humanoid figure that slowly coalesced into Vecna, walking past both himself and Tommy, who was also lying in the sand.

Eddie followed Vecna’s line of sight, over the dune to a familiar ruined city, the sun high in the sky.

They were back at Hamunaptra.

And it was daytime.

The last thing Eddie remembered was being assaulted by sand in the middle of Cairo, in the middle of the night.

And now he was miles into the desert, at what looked like midday. Tommy seemed to be just as out of it as Eddie was.

What had happened to Robin? To Steve? To Ardeth? To the crowd that had been under Vecna’s thrall?

Eddie nearly laughed to himself when the thought came into his head again that he was going to murder them if they’d both gotten themselves killed. 

What was his life?

What was this complete nonsense?

While Eddie had just been standing, gawking at the ruined city in front of him and trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened, Vecna had continued to walk towards the city.

But now he had stopped, a little way ahead, turning back to them and Eddie could feel his eyes on him, beckoning him forward. 

He had just taken a step when the sound of buzzing came from behind them and Eddie had a moment of panic, thinking that he was about to be set upon by a swarm of bugs again.

But as it got closer, he recognised it as the sound of a propeller plane speeding towards them.

Though Eddie couldn’t see any details about anyone aboard, who else would be flying directly for their mysterious and hidden city out in the middle of the desert if not Steve, Robin and Ardeth?

And from the way Vecna was glaring up at them, he knew exactly who it was, as well.

Eddie was forced to watch in horror as the small and vulnerable plane flew overhead and Vecna raised his hand, calling forth a swirl of sand and wind, heading right towards them, determined to knock them from the sky.

A strike of panic went through him and he thought how he could not just stand here and fucking watch that plane crash and do nothing about it.

Eddie turned on his heel and ran, charging towards Vecna with as much speed as he could muster through the sand.

Vecna turned his head at the last second, his eyes widening in surprise as Eddie jumped, wrapping his arms and legs around him, bodily tackling him to the ground and with only a moment’s hesitation, hoping that this would work, and it had to, right? He’d spent all this time calling Eddie my love even though he was apparently a sacrifice for his partner but still.

This mummy had been chasing after him for a while, so Eddie took Vecna’s face in his hands and kissed him, hard, gripping with such force he’d be worried about injuring him if he wasn’t an undead mummy with supernatural powers who he wanted dead anyway.

So if Eddie hurt him a little? Fuck him. He could live with that.

With one open eye, Eddie craned to see the swirling mass of sand surrounding the plane, bobbing like a leaf floating on choppy waters. He saw the sand wall drop and the plane continue to putter along.

He let out a sigh of relief, sitting straight up and throwing himself off Vecna’s body, not really wanting to end up straddling the guy but his elation was short lived because the plane was still tumbling unsteadily and then it was gone. Out of sight behind a far away dune with the sound of a crash that made Eddie’s blood run cold. 

He pushed himself up from the sand, needing to get there to see, to make sure they were okay but he had only managed to take one single step before a cruel hand curled around his bicep and he was being dragged away, into the city, no amount of kicking and screaming and biting loosening Vecna's grip on him.

Into the ruins and through a maze of corridors and secret passages, Vecna’s hand remained clamped down on him, Eddie’s whole arm going numb and he knew there was going to be a violent bruise left, if he got out of here alive enough for one even to be able to form.

When Vecna finally let go, Eddie hesitated on following, trying to remember every twist and turn taken, wondering if he would be able to make a break for it and not get lost in a maze of dead ends and probable traps.

His shoulder was shoved hard and Tommy hissed at him, “Keep moving.”

Eddie whipped around, pushing himself suddenly and overbearingly into Tommy’s space, widening his eyes and baring his teeth.

“Touch me again, Hagan.” He growled, low and threatening. “I fucking dare you.”

Tommy didn’t disguise his shock fast enough. He took a step back, his throat convulsing around a swallow before he pulled his mouth back down into a frown.

But he didn’t shove Eddie again and he didn’t get any closer.

Eddie turned back to the large open chamber in front of them, eyeing the large stone altar in the centre with a sickening sinking in his gut.

He followed Vecna down the stairs, slumping a little. He’d never be able to find his way out.

As much as he had sneered at the thought of being a damsel in distress before, that was the truth of the situation now.

He just hoped it would be Robin to break him out, to do the lion's share of the saving.

Steve would never let him live it down otherwise.

Eddie stepped off the stairs, landing down on the same level as the super fucking suspicious altar, with a super suspicious pool of dark murky water surrounding them. 

There were rows of sarcophagi extending out into the chamber and while that alone would have been enough to creep Eddie the fuck out even more than he already was, the fact that he knew from his own research that these were the sarcophagi of Vecna’s priests, and that they would also be raised with him when he came to full power?

Eddie was so fucking beyond creeped out. He felt it crawling under his skin, up the back of his neck.

There was a crack in the distance, a sudden sound of a gunshot echoing through the corridors that nearly made Eddie jump out of his skin.

The only thing that stopped him from dying of a heart attack immediately was the thought that there were very few people who would be firing a gun in an enclosed ancient Egyptian ruined city and hopefully one of them was a caveman with good hair.

Something cold like dread shot up Eddie’s spine, something icy and unsettling and when he turned back to the chamber he found Vecna much closer than he had been before, looking thunderous.

He lashed a hand out, words spilling out of his mouth that Eddie couldn’t understand, coming too fast and bouncing around the room.

The lids of the sarcophagi shifted, the sound of stone grinding against stone as desiccated hands started to pull their preserved mummified bodies out of what should have been their final resting places. 

Vecna raised both arms, letting out a booming cry of:

“Kill the intruders!”

Eddie shook his head to himself.

“Fuck this.” 

He was not putting up with this nonsense any longer.

Eddie shot off towards the stairs.

He’d take his fucking chances with the booby traps.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tommy taking his chance as well, slipping out through a side corridor and disappearing, leaving Eddie to whatever fate awaited him.

It was a lot of stairs and his legs were fucking burning but he was nearly there, if he could just—

Something snapped at his heel, nearly sending him off balance but he managed to right himself at the last second, not daring to look behind him.

He was nearly there, nearly at the top of the stairs, nearly out.

One more step.

But then he was halted, something gripping him tight around the ankle, slithering up his calf.

He was yanked back, the corner of the stairs rushing up to meet him and for a moment, everything shot bright white, pain lancing through his head before things went dark again.

There was a large stone ceiling swimming high above him as Eddie blinked himself back to consciousness.

His head was throbbing and there was a sharp pain above his eyebrow, something drying and tacky on the side of his face.

He groaned to himself, trying to pull his arms down from where they lay above his head.

But he was met with resistance, the clink clink of chains and shackles restraining his wrists. The same sound followed when he tried to move his legs, his ankles clamped tight, chained down to the four corners of the raised stone table he was laid out on.

His fucking waistcoat and shirt had been unbuttoned and the henley undershirt had been carefully cut down the middle, leaving him bare chested on top of what he knew in his bones to be a sacrificial altar.

Eddie was doing his very best not to start hyperventilating. This was so not what he had planned to do with his day and he would really rather not continue with this nonsense.

There was the low murmur of chanting around him, Vecna and his mummified priests, the ones who hadn’t been set off to dispatch Eddie’s saviours surrounded the altar, mummies kneeling and bowing as they spoke.

Eddie wasn’t going to think about it. He looked up, twisting and turning, trying to figure out a way to get the fuck out of his shackles. He turned to the side and would have shot back off the table in shock if his restraints hadn’t stopped him.

An ancient mummy had been placed down next to him, lying dried out and dead and thousands of years old only inches from himself and Jesus Christ; he was so done with all of this. 

This had to be the person Eddie was going to be sacrificed to. This had to be Vecna’s great thousand years old love that Eddie was going to be forced to give his life for.

No fucking thank you.

Eddie turned again, now trying to put all of his strength into breaking out, despite the throbbing in his head, his arm, his own all encompassing panic. It was an effort that he increased once Vecna slowly walked towards him, the Book of the Dead clutched in one hand and the puzzle box in the other.

“Listen, man.” Eddie spoke to him, his voice shaking though he tried to push through it. “This is all lovely and yes I had been hoping to be chained up at some point but it definitely wasn’t by you.”

Vecna looked down at him uncomprehending, piercing Eddie through with his bright blue eyes and slotted the opened puzzle box into the book, unlocking it.

“Robin!” Eddie practically screamed out into the empty chamber as Vecna stashed the puzzle box back into his robes and began to chant. “Steve! Now would be a great time to show up!”

His voice cracked on the last word, easily cutting through the hissed speech Vecna was giving over his prone body, way too panicked to try to understand what he was saying. 

The super suspicious pool of murky water that Eddie had spotted before began to bubble, spitting out a thick plume of dark red smoke that moved against all logic and reason, towards them.

It swirled, surrounding them, cracked through with shots of bright red like lightning before coalescing next to the table Eddie was shackled to.

There was a breathless moment where everything stopped. Eddie watched the cloud of smoke with wide, wary eyes as it hovered next to him while Vecna spoke above and he waited for something to happen.

The cloud moved towards him, slowly extending along the length of him.

And then he felt it.

The swirl of red smoke and lightning pushed its way into his body and Eddie screamed.

He felt like his blood was boiling, felt like his skin was being torn apart thread by thread; he felt the shock and pain of the lightning striking through him and the cloying thickness of the smoke suffocating him.

His whole body went tense, seizing up and he yanked at the chains harder than he had before, feeling them cut into his wrists and ankles.

He wanted to dig his fingers in, wanted to tear his skin off, pull his muscles out, anything to make this stop but he was immobilised, both by his shackles and his body's own petrified state.

He was vaguely aware of a sound bouncing around the chamber, distorting and echoing back to him and it took him far too long to recognise the sound of his own voice, the sound of his own screams of pain so loud they were reaching the ceiling high above him. 

Almost as soon as it started, it stopped. The lightning and smoke seeping out of his body and slowly filtering into the figure of the mummy lying dead next to him.

Eddie slumped down, eyes rolling and hazy, head thunking back against the stone, arms and legs lying limp and he was exhausted.

He sluggishly turned his gaze over, the mummy next to him almost mirroring his movements.

Except that while Eddie stared in momentary shocked horror, the mummy opened their mouth and screamed at him.

 “Nope!” Eddie replied a little deliriously, shaking his head and trying to worm his exhausted body as far back as he possibly could. “Nope, no, nu-uh. What the fuck, this is so creepy, why does this have to be so fucking creepy?!”

His chains stopped him because of course they did, they left him just writhing around on his sacrificial altar.

Vecna moved above him, raising a knife over his body, positioning the blade over the centre of Eddie’s bare chest, gripping tight and Eddie was out of fucking ideas.

But then something moved in his periphery.

Two somethings. 

A shadow darted from behind one statue to melt into the darkness behind another and a figure appeared at the top of the stairs Eddie’s ill-fated escape attempt had taken place on.

“Eddie!” Robin called to him, holding something glinting gold aloft. “We have the book!”

Vecna whipped around, his face enraged, knife clutched in his hand and he began to move towards the steps.

What the fuck?!

“What the fuck, Rob?!” Eddie screamed back. “Well don’t just announce it to the whole room?!”

Robin didn’t act like she’d heard him at all, continuing to shout out as loud as possible. 

“Oh no, we need a key for it!” Eddie guessed she was about two seconds away from pressing the back of her hand to her forehead and he had to suppress an eyeroll. “Oh darn. I wonder where it could be.”

“It’s in his robes! Why are you playing pretend right now, he doesn’t speak English! Just tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Something moved at his other side. 

That shape that had been skulking in the shadows forming into a blur of chestnut hair, tanned skin and moles as a khopesh was brought down on one of his chains, Eddie’s wrist still shackled but no longer tied down as Steve immediately turned his back on him, fending off the surrounding mummies leaping from their kneeling positions, their own weapons raised.

He could hear Robin’s frustrated grunt echo around him before she shouted back. “Well then tell me what I need to do with this!”

“Unlock the damn book and read the fucking words, Buckley!”

With a swing of his sword, Steve whirled around, cutting down a mummy and following the momentum through to release one of Eddie’s ankles.

When Steve twisted again, breaking through the chain holding down his other ankle, Eddie reached his hand out, snagging one of Steve’s revolvers from his chest holster and only just barely managed to cock it back and pull the trigger, sending a bullet sailing through the forehead of a mummy that had been advancing on Steve when his back was turned. 

A few short and sharp slashes later, Steve had cut down three other mummies around them, turning back to Eddie with a small twirl of his sword and a little shrug, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Steve brought his sword down on the last chain, finally setting Eddie free. 

He took Steve’s offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled off the altar and landing unsteadily on his feet.

Steve untangled their hands, bringing his fingers up to brush Eddie’s hair lightly away from his forehead, his eyebrows pinched together in concern.

Eddie’s own brow furrowed in confusion before the pain of the action reminded him of his fall against the stairs and the sticky wetness he’d woken up with. Sticky wetness that was now flaking away in little clumps of dried blood, a deep red stain spread out over the clothes near his neck.

Steve opened his mouth but snapped it closed again at the sound of Robin’s voice carrying through a passage down to them, reciting the words on the front of the Book of Amun-Ra as she ran, Vecna stalking right behind her.

There was a crash of a chamber in front of them opening, cutting off the rest of her words as a line of heavily armoured soldier mummies stalked forward.

Eddie would have probably felt a little bit insane about the feeling of Steve’s warm and very large hand pressing into his bare stomach, pushing him back behind him, placing himself in between the soldiers and Eddie but he didn’t get the chance to feel even mildly insane about it, unfortunately.

Because as the soldiers charged forward, Eddie was grabbed from behind, a hand in his hair, pulling his neck back and he only barely managed to get his arm up in time to stop the sharp edge of a blade from slicing across his throat, cutting across the back of his forearm instead.

He kicked back, sending his assailant stumbling and setting his hair free, turning just in time to dodge another swipe from that same blade, the horrific visage of desiccated flesh and ancient linen bindings coming at him.

The resurrected mummy of Anck-Su-Namun had apparently set their sights on him, attacking him with a singular focus.

He turned and ran as fast as he could away from them, dodging and weaving his way around the now empty sarcophagi. 

“Listen, love. I don’t want your man.” Eddie huffed out. God he needed to exercise more. “Is that what you’re mad about? You want him? Take him! Have him!”

Anck-Su-Namun screeched again, swiping at him and he supposed that no, that wasn’t it. That didn’t seem right. 

They hadn’t fully formed back to alive yet. They were stuck in some limbo state of not-quite-dead but also not-quite-alive and Eddie suspected that it wasn’t going to change until Eddie himself was lying dead. 

“Eddie!” Robin called to him from somewhere off in the distance, in between trying to finish her initial incantation, so she could take control of the soldiers she had accidentally raised and then accidentally let loose. “There’s a symbol here, I can’t translate it!”

“What does it look like?” He shouted back, having to duck a swipe of the blade that came far too close for comfort. 

“It’s… uh… a bird..? No, a stork!”

Eddie’s back hit a sarcophagus behind him and he shot a hand out, catching Anck-Su-Namun’s wrist and just barely able to hold them back. How the fuck was an undead mummy made up of ancient skin and bones so strong?

“Amenophus!” Eddie’s voice was a little higher pitched than usual due to his panic but he didn’t care, he didn’t fucking care right then.

Robin repeated the word almost as soon as he had finished squeaking it out, her voice booming around the chamber, completing the incantation and commanding the soldiers to attack Anck-Su-Namun.

They halted their attack on Steve just in time, the blade of one of their spears cutting into his neck, leaving a small trickle of blood dribbling down his chest.

The hand that had been clamping around Eddie’s throat was cut off before he could even register what was happening, Anck-Su-Namun set upon by five soldiers and Eddie slid to the floor, backing away.

Despite his knowledge that Robin was their commander now, that didn’t stop the inherent distrust he had for the fucking mummies surrounding them.

There was a horrible otherworldly screech of anger and Eddie poked his head around to see Vecna bearing down on Robin who had been backed into the wall.

She dropped the gold book on the floor as Vecna gripped her tight around the throat, lifting her from the ground and slamming her back into the wall.

While one hand clutched at Vecna’s wrist, scrabbling against his hold, her other hand lightly brushed through his robes.

Robin pulled the puzzle box out, slipping it into her own pocket. It was only then that she made any actual effort to get Vecna off of her.

She lifted her leg, releasing a small knife from her boot and once she had a good grip on it, she slashed it across the back of Vecna’s hand, severing the tendons in his fingers, forcing him to release her, which he did with a screech of pain.

Robin dropped to the floor, coughing and heaving breaths back in and before Vecna could start an attack on her again, Steve threw himself forward, dragging his khopesh down Vecna’s back, opening a wide and gaping wound that should have incapacitated him.

But there was no blood, no bone and organs underneath. Just putrefied rotten flesh. He was still dead underneath.

The wound slowly closed at the same time the one on his hand did and Vecna turned, blazing eyes of fury firmly on Steve now.

Eddie darted out from his hiding spot, meeting Robin in the middle over the golden book.

“”Keep him busy!” Eddie shouted in Steve’s direction. “Don’t get killed!”

Steve spat out a snarky “No problem!” trying to hack away at Vecna, but the cuts and slashes were doing almost nothing to slow him down.

Robin slammed the key into the book, quickly unlocking it and peeling it open while Eddie searched desperately for the incantation he needed, his fingers smearing his blood over the symbols.

“You know, if this book was really made of gold, it would be too heavy to even turn one of the pages let alone carry it around—”

“Robin! You’re not helping!”

She nodded. “You’re good here?”

“Yes, yes!” He waved his hand at her. “Go!”

Robin didn’t waste a second, pushing herself to her feet and pulling her revolver from its holster, cocking it back and sending a bullet sailing through Vecna’s head, who had Steve lifted off the ground, hand around his throat. 

Eddie brought his eyes back down to the book, quickly following the hieroglyphs with his fingers, trying to find what he needed while Vecna screamed and gunfire exploded behind him. 

Then he spotted it. He slammed his finger down, pointing out what he needed to himself and whipped his head up.

“Kadeesh mal! Kadeesh mal!” He shouted, Vecna freezing in his tracks, sword held aloft over Steve and Robin on the ground. “Pared oos! Pared oos!”

Vecna turned and along with him, Eddie, Steve and Robin turned too as the sound of hoofbeats echoed around the chamber, a ghostly chariot bursting through with a jackal headed rider, their eyes locked on Vecna as they rode forth.

Vecna took a horrified step back but it wasn’t enough to move him out of the path and the chariot passed straight through him, a spiritual image of Venca being caught up around the throat by the jackal headed rider.

The spectral images turned, paying no mind to Steve, Eddie or Robin as they rode back up the stairs that Eddie had tried to escape up before, disappearing in a flash of light.

Eddie nearly breathed a sigh of relief. 

Nearly. 

But Vecna was still here. 

The spell hadn’t killed him and now he turned, his bright blazing blue eyes locked on Eddie as he stalked forward.

“I thought you said it was supposed to kill him!” Steve shouted, scrambling to his feet as Vecna advanced.

Vecna was right in front of him, face furious and hand lashing out towards Eddie’s neck.

With a spatter of red and black against Eddie’s bare chest, Vecna’s middle was bisected, Steve’s sword cutting through and Eddie looked up into those blue eyes.

“Not exactly. But he is mortal now.”

Steve yanked the sword out, Vecna looking down at his belly in shock as he stumbled to the side before tipping precariously into the swamp water.

The three of them watched as Vecna slowly disintegrated in front of them, his skin rotting away and falling apart as the water surrounded him.

Eddie had time to take a deep breath in. To sit and watch as the water settled back to a flat surface and he had almost, almost let his shoulders drop in a sigh.

The water rippled and he could feel Robin and Steve tense on either side of him.

The walls around them began to spill sand and the ceiling slowly started to descend towards them.

Steve took his hand, blood smearing between them and Robin plucked the gold book up, the three of them starting to run out of the crumbling chamber.

Just as they got to the stairs, Robin slipped, the gold book sliding out of her grip and disappearing into the water.

“Robin!” Eddie screeched, ripping his hand from Steve’s grip to go back to where the glinting gold had disappeared below the surface. “All that knowledge just gone—!”

He was cut off by the two of them grabbing him, an arm each, and dragging him away while he continued to lament about the ancient artefact, forever lost.

They were almost out, they were almost free, Eddie could see daylight and they had to dive, throwing themselves through a small gap as a great slab of stone slowly descended, blocking off the entrance.

“Steve!”

A voice called from behind them, a desperate cry pleading for help.

Tommy.

Steve turned on his heel without hesitation, but with a healthy growl of frustration and flattened himself onto his belly, reaching an arm in between the ground and the slowly lowering stone, reaching.

Eddie could see Tommy’s hand grab his and as Steve pulled Tommy was yanked half way out before he came to a dead stop, trapped. A gargantuan stone slowly getting closer and closer to him.

“Tommy– what? Are you fucking serious?!” Steve screamed, his voice raw outrage. “Let it go, for Christ's sake!”

There was the clink of metal and a whimper and Tommy loosened his grip around a sack he’d been dragging with him, getting pulled out from below the lowering door in the nick of time.

Steve pushed himself up, getting to his feet and taking Eddie’s hand in his again. 

“Make sure that’s the last thing I ever do for you.”

Tommy looked up at them from his position on the ground, eyes bouncing between Steve and Eddie.

He gave a shaky nod before pushing himself to stand as well and shooting off in the direction of the waiting party of camels, Ardeth Bay sitting atop his own, looking down on him with a glare.

Tommy hesitated in front of them, almost like he was looking for something, before picking one at random and riding away at a furious pace.

Ardeth handed the rest of the reins off to Robin.

“Glad to see you’re alive. Don’t come back.”

With that, he pulled his horse around and without a backwards glance, rode off into the distance.

“Well.” Robin sighed, patting her camel's muzzle, “leaving empty handed is better than not leaving at all, I suppose.”

“I dunno.” Steve replied with a shrug, catching Eddie fast around the waist and pulling him in tight. “I wouldn’t say empty handed.”

“Ugh.” Robin scrunched up her nose while Eddie snorted to himself, hiding his face in Steve’s shoulder.

“That was such a bad line, Stevie.”

“And,” Robin rolled her eyes. “I was talking about the treasure that was down there.”

Eddie lifted his head to look at her and she held her hands up.

“Which we are perfectly happy with leaving behind and not selling off to foreign museums for profit.”

“You’re damn right.”

“God, you two are insufferable.” Steve huffed, squeezing Eddie around the middle. “Can I kiss you now?”

Eddie smiled at him, ignoring Robin’s muttered “Ew.” behind him.

“I don’t know, Stevie. Can you?”

Steve rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up and taking a step away with a mockingly annoyed pout.

Eddie shot forward, grabbing Steve’s face between both hands and pulling him forward, smashing their lips together in clumsy desperation, refusing to let Steve get away after all this time, after everything they’d been through.

Steve smiled into the kiss, crushing Eddie to himself again with his arms around his waist and tilting forward, almost dipping Eddie down.

Eddie opened his mouth, pushing his tongue forward and Steve met him with equal gusto, sucking it into his mouth and licking back into Eddie’s—

“Are you two done?”

They broke apart to look at Robin. 

“If we have to be.” Eddie frowned. 

“Good. You have to be.” She huffed, throwing a set of reins in Steve’s direction.

Eddie watched as Steve swung himself up, settling in the saddle before holding a hand out. Eddie happily allowed himself to be pulled up into Steve’s lap before they began a slow trot towards the horizon.

“What now?” Steve asked, holding Eddie tight against him.

“Well…” Eddie sighed, slinging his arms around Steve’s neck. “How do you feel about a trip back to rural Indiana? Maybe to a house with no electricity? There’s someone there I’d like you to meet.”

Steve grinned, placing a sweet kiss against Eddie’s cheek.

“Sounds perfect.”

Part 1/ Part 6/ AO3

Happy birthday @hbyrde36

My biggest thanks and much love to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

[cinderella-ish]

My evolving thoughts on who Yuki should've ended up with, and fanfic's role in changing my mind

So, I want to talk about Yuki Sohma.

Yuki is the member of the main trio in Fruits Basket with whom I most identify. I have little in common with both Tohru and Kyo, and it took me several watches and read-throughs to start to understand their characters/arcs. (I love them, don't get me wrong! I just didn't fully appreciate the depth of their characters/arcs until maybe my third time through the series.)

Yuki, on the other hand, not only had many external qualities in common with me, but the way he grew mirrored some of the ways I changed in early adulthood. His arc felt true to my life, and so he was my favorite character from my first exposure to Fruits Basket.

When I started reading fanfic, I initially limited myself to canon compliant or limited canon-divergence fics, but eventually, I dipped my toes into some alternate pairings. Interestingly, while I truly can't see Tohru with anyone but Kyo, and I can only see Kyo with someone other than Tohru in very specific circumstances, Yuki seems to work with almost everyone he gets paired with. I mean, Yuki and Machi are my OTP, yet I have probably read (and bookmarked) every Yuki/Kakeru fic on Ao3, and some of the most beautiful fanfic I've ever read is Yuki/Kyo.

This confused me at first. Deeply. If Yuchi is my OTP, why do I devour every Yukeru and Yukyo fic?

Well, I think that's because Yuki's arc is, among other things, one where he rejects compulsory romance. This is made explicit in the Cinderella-ish story (why yes this is my favorite part of Fruits Basket, why do you ask?), where he quite literally rejects the role of the prince - the role that's been put onto him by others through the series. I think his arc would have been complete without him ending up with Machi, but there are things about their relationship that make his ending so much more satisfying. In stories where he ends up with Kakeru or Kyo, Machi almost always appears as an important friend for him. I think, for him, having strong bonds outside the Sohmas that he forged on his own was the point, rather than ending up in a relationship.

Anyway, with that out of the way, here are my thoughts on the five most common Yuki pairings on Ao3!

Yuki/Machi

Yes. I love them. 1000/10.

Okay, so the one criticism I have of Yuki/Machi is that Yuki is strongly gay-coded throughout the series, and it would've been awesome to see that play out in the way it was set up. I think that's a huge part of why I connected with Yuki - his arc definitely reminded me of my own experience coming to terms with my own queerness. For more on this, see this exceptional post by @yunsoh

But there are so many moments between them that make me swoon. The chalk scene, first and foremost. I used that scene to talk to my partner about how to support me when my OCD or ADHD is bad. Then there's scene where Yuki figures out why Machi destroys things, then asks to make footprints in the snow together (and tells her he's proud of her! and sees how hard she's worked!). The way he bought her Mogeta memorabilia or figured out she likes red or understood her intent when she chased him around the school to give him a flower and just ended up getting angry at him. The way he understood she bought Tohru a bath set because it's what she would want, just because Kakeru made a similar remark. The way he lit up when he saw Machi's trashed apartment - "the sea of despair."

And the way Machi understood and empathized with Yuki. The way he lit up and started laughing when she called him an airhead. The way she said it took someone like him to notice someone like her. The way she opened up to him and always sought him out. The way Kakeru shipped them. The way he knew she would miss him if he were to disappear, and the way being a support to her was something he needed for himself. The way she accepted him as he actually was, and not the way he thought he was supposed to be. The way she broke the door down with a chair when Yuki was trapped in the storage room. The way he teased her!

They've both been put in seemingly desirable positions within their families, yet those positions are responsible for so much of their pain and trauma. They get each other at a deep level. There's a mutuality to their relationship that Yuki desperately needed. I love them so much!

PS: if you also love Yuki/Machi, come find me on Ao3! I'll be posting some Yuchi content later this week!

Yuki/Kakeru

They have a fantastic and fun dynamic, and they are always touching each other. Kakeru is Yuki's confidant and someone who makes Yuki feel safe in being himself, flaws and all. They help each other grow - Yuki helps Kakeru be more empathetic, and Kakeru helps Yuki become more comfortable with himself. I think this pairing would have also been a satisfying end for Yuki, full stop. I love them, and I will read all your Yukeru fics, please and thank you. (Also, lots of Yukeru writers are just really good writers, so there are some gorgeous works for them.)

Yuki/Kyo

So, I didn't get why this ship was so popular at first, but then I was reminded that Yuki's first thought when he met Kyo was "pretty!" They both secretly admired each other, they're written as foils for each other, and there's a reason enemies to lovers is so popular (and it's called sexual tension).

There's a Yuki/Kyo fic that I'd credit with showing me what fanfic can really do - especially in the ways it expanded the universe, found its own way of handling the curse, and developed the relationship between the two boys in a way that also grew their characters. That fic is The Pursuit of Repeating History by @mistergrass

I do think that Yuki ending up with someone outside the Sohmas is more satisfying for his character arc than someone from the Sohma clan, but his relationship with Kyo is such a key part of his arc that this could be satisfying in its own right.

Yuki/Haru

I absolutely love the relationship these two have in canon. I love how Haru looks out for Yuki, and I love how he drives Yuki a bit crazy. I love how Haru tells Yuki the things he needs to hear, like that it's okay for him to focus on himself for a while, and I love how Yuki braves the Sohma estate to check on Haru. I also love the way Haru can read Yuki like a book.

Haru's words to Yuki about finding someone who will appreciate his fragility and kindness are always so touching. Haru is almost a mentor to Yuki, in a way, or a fairy godmother. (Or a long lost sister?) The fact that he was the one who got Yuki out of isolation at the hands of Akito, or that he was the one person who would check on him just speaks to the strength of his loyalty to Yuki.

I take Haru's statement of "Yuki was my first love" seriously, because he tells Yuki he is serious when Yuki warns him people will take him seriously when he says that. I know there's an argument to be made that Haru is just being his weird self, but that gives me and they were roommates vibes.

Unfortunately, most of the Yuki/Haru fics are dubcon with Dark Haru, which is not something I enjoy reading. What I'd really love to read is an AU where they're together in high school or later, or something that explores Haru's early feelings for Yuki, or just something that explores interesting sides of their characters that are brought out when they're together.

I don't think this would be a terribly satisfying end for Yuki, but I do really love their dynamic.

Yuki/Tohru

Okay, so, full disclosure: I was #teamyuki when I first watched Fruits Basket. Yet now, they're the only pairing on this list that I don't like. Why? Well, as I said above, Yuki's arc is much about rejecting this specific compulsory romance.

Compulsory how? Well, from the beginning, the series seems like it's setting up a love triangle, but kind of tells us (more and more explicitly as the series goes on) that things are not what they seem.

I think the series does a phenomenal job of making the reader/viewer complicit in placing this compulsory romance onto Yuki. A brief aside, making the reader/viewer complicit in the thing a story is criticizing is one of the most effective ways to criticize something, IMO, because it doesn't let the reader/viewer off the hook. We don't get to say, "Look at them, they're so foolish!" We're forced to examine our own expectations and acknowledge that we were made a fool of, too.

I totally got tingles at the spa scene (pictured above), even though upon rewatch, it's obvious how much of an act it is on Yuki's part, and how uncomfortable it makes Tohru. In fact, many of their most "romantic" moments, where the shojo bubbles appear and everything, are when Tohru is acting in an explicitly motherly way to Yuki, and he awkwardly tries to flirt because he's either misinterpreting his feelings or in denial about them.

I also thought his line, "that isn't what I want!" when he tells Kakeru about his true feelings for Tohru is one of the most powerful moments in the series. It's the moment he's finally letting go of being the Princely character and choosing to be himself, for himself, because he deserves to be known and accepted - something he'd never fully believed until that moment.

I think part of why I was initially #teamyuki was because I came to Fruits Basket through the anime first, where much of the development of his relationship with Machi was cut. Also, as I said above, I didn't really get the characters of Kyo and Tohru right away, and I think that prevented me from seeing the power of their romance. The True Form arc was a key moment that I truly didn't understand until several viewings/readings later.

So, all of that is why I don't care for this pairing. I get why people do, but I do feel it undermines Yuki's agency and his character arc. It's a pairing that makes me sad when I see it, as if this character I love has taken a step backward.

(Incidentally, I've been wanting to write a fic where the True Form arc plays out differently and Yuki takes longer to realize the nature of his feelings for Tohru. I truly wonder how he would've come to that understanding without witnessing her running after Kyo. Would he have tried dating her? Would it have been a total disaster?)

Other pairings and larger relationship structures

Out of the other pairings I found, the only one I'm genuinely curious about is Yuki with Saki Hanajima. I'll have to go read those fics. They are each the "cold" half of a "hot/cold" duo (the "hot" halves being Kyo and Arisa, who are basically the same person). I'm very curious what led people to pair them in the handful of fics about them!

(Interestingly, I think it's possible to read Saki and Arisa both as having a bit of sexual tension with Kyo, but not with Yuki.)

The others include Akito, Ayame, Hatori, and Shigure - all pairings that would have a noncon/dubcon element due to Yuki's age, and that's before you get into the specific traumas that these characters have inflicted on Yuki, or the inherent power dynamics between them, or the close familial relationship with Ayame, etc...

The trio relationships are all intriguing and full of possibility. Yuki/Tohru/Kyo? Obviously. Yuki/Kakeru/Kimi? Potential for lots of wackiness. Yuki/Kyo/Haru? Could be the next Mabudachi trio.

(No shade to anyone who enjoys fics with the pairings or tropes I don't like! This blogger believes in "don't like, don't read.")

[tojisbbygworl]

Just For The Night - Hobie Brown x Black!Punk!Reader pt. 1

Summary: Two anarchists meet at a concert and decide that one night just isn't enough...but one night is all they have.

Characters: Mentioned - Gwen, Pavtir, Miguel. Featured - Miles, Hobie

Words: 3,694

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Mutual Pining, Suggestive Content (Smut in part 2), Hobie is Whipped, Aged-Up Characters (Miles/Gwen is 17), Reader and Hobie are 21+, Mention of Marijuana, Canon Divergence (Doesn't follow ATSV events/Miles is not an anomaly/Hobie's universe is present day instead of 1978), Hobie and Miles are like brothers, I tried my best with the British slang

author's note: The Hobie brainrot is real. I wasn't planning on writing for ATSV at all, but some of the fanfictions just weren't scratching the itch and you have to be the change you want to see in the world and all that other shit. I don't think that Miles would listen to Rico Nasty, but I definitely think Hobie would. I had to write something putting the two together like it just makes SENSE TO ME!

You don’t have to listen to the music at all I’m not even sure if I want to keep it in there. Anyway, here's the story. More notes abt me at the end.

AO3 version part 2 epilogue

"You tryna' go to this concert with me?"

Hobie stopped playing with his guitar pick to look Miles in the eyes. The day was over, for them at least. Miguel was satisfied with their work and they didn't have to deal with him until it was time to be called back into action. Gwen had already gone back home, something about her band, and Pav wasn't on the schedule for today. It was one of the only times where Miles and Hobie could really work as partners and they cherished it.

Miles was especially glad to have Hobie all to himself, as he felt this question would be a bit more awkward around the others. He waited until they were grabbing something to eat in the food court so he was sure anyone who would overhear his question couldn't. He had always been a fan of this artist, but never really embraced it in fear of embarrassment or rejection.

"Who's playin'?" Hobie asked him, already knowing he was going to say yes no matter what Miles said. He saw him as a little brother, and he was happy that he wanted to spend time together outside of work.

"Her name is Rico Nasty." Hobie raised a brow. Either this artist is only popular in America, or he didn't have her in his own universe. He had never heard of her before.

"Oh? Who's that?" Miles lit up like a fire, excited to show Hobie something new. He hoped to whoever was listening that he would enjoy her.

To say that seeing Hobie begin to head bop with his headphones in filled Miles with joy was an understatement. As the song continued, He began making a stank face and looked at him. He was enjoying himself, clearly, and Miles knew he had him hooked.

When the song ended, Hobie took out his headphones and gave Miles his phone back. "Yeah, I'll go with you."

Miles throws a small celebration. He pumps his fist and says "Yes!" dancing for a second before stopping and clearing his throat. He turns back around to see Hobie looking at him amused.

"Am I the only one going?" He asks him, biting into a burger.

Miles sits back down across him and sighs. He looks down at the table. "Yeah," he says, dejected. Hobie gives him a worried look, which Miles is quick to dismiss. "Oh, no! It's nothing bad. I just...I don't really know anyone else who would come with me and it seemed like music you would like..." He trails off for a minute. Hobie urges him on by gesturing his hand. "And I kind of wanted an actual adult with me because I'm really nervous and kind of scared and I needed someone I could trust completely. You fit all the criteria."

Hearing that made Hobie insanely happy. He gives Miles a sideways smile. "That warms me up inside, you know that?"

Miles lets out a small, breathy, laugh. "Yeah, yeah."

"So," Hobie wipes his hands with each other and takes a sip of his drink. "What's the scene gonna be like?"

"Well...you, really. Your whole aesthetic."

Hobie raises a brow. "Oh yeah?"

~

As a connoisseur of moshing, in Hobie's opinion, the venue was perfect. Big enough to fit scores of people, too small to have any personal space.

It was completely painted black with a black floor as well. Purple, green, and red stage lights shone over the thickening crowd. It was already so hot, a stark contrast from the chilly Brooklyn night air.

That day, Miles had visited Hobie's apartment to get dressed. Hobie gave him loads of clothes and accessories to choose from. Miles, unfortunately, had no sense of style, and everything he chose clashed with each other. Hobie had to completely dress him from head to toe. "You look like a proper rebel without a cause," Hobie had told him, which Miles took as a good thing.

Miles took one look at the bartending stand, gave Hobie a stupid smile, and as funny as it was, he shot him down immediately. "Uh-Uh. 'low it."

It was 7:30. The concert didn't officially start for another 30 minutes, and Rico wasn't going to come out for an hour after that. Miles was taking everything in. He had a look of wonder in his eyes. Hobie found it amusing. Him and Miles have been friends for some time now, but he’s never seen him this relaxed.

“You didn’t think about bringing Gwendy here?” Hobie asked him. Gwen should see this part of her boo thing. (They still haven’t made anything official).

Miles hisses and scratches the back of his head. “Eh…nah man. I’m still nervous about showing this side of me to people. You’re the only person I’m confident enough to show it off to.”

Miles’s sweet words brought a genuine smile to Hobie’s face, and he smiled back. Hobie wrapped his arm around him and rubbed his head. They continue talking as the venue fills more and more and people gather behind him. Soon, it’s hard to move around and the two boys finally notice how packed the floor has become. Miles begins to look a little nervous, but looks up at how chill Hobie is and adjusts himself accordingly.

When he’s done trying to look cool he taps Hobie on his arm. The man looks down at him in curiosity. “Hey, so…what’s your situation?”

“What do you mean?”

Miles makes a fist and punches his palm. “I mean, do you got a girl, bro?”

Hobie scoffs and laughs at his question. “Nah, man. My Gwen Stacy is a capitalist pig. And I don’t know a Mary Jane.”

“Maybe you can have the Gwen from my universe.” Mike’s jokes. Hobie laughs and punches his arm.

“Sorry mate, but if she’s anything like others, I don’t want her." He gets a far off look in his face, and Miles's grin straightens out. "It’s like in every universe, she’s a "good" girl.” Hobie explains his thought process. Miles is greatly interested in what he has to say. Hobie looks up and speaks as if this is something he’s put a lot of thought into. “My person needs to have my ideals. I want her to be loud and obnoxiously motivated. Like me.” He says the last part with a grin. Miles shook his head.

“So you want an anarchist?”

Hobie shrugs. “If she’s not a felon she’s not for me.” They laugh with each other until the opening DJ comes out. It was 8:00 and the concert was starting. He played some popular mainstream music that Hobie wouldn’t otherwise listen to. But Miles had started rapping 21 Savage with some other teenagers around him and he couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Hobie easily towered over the crowd, so he took a moment to take it all in. In his opinion, he had the best spot on the floor. Right in the middle. He could see everything. Everyone had on some form of punk-like, gothic, or emo styling. He saw many spikes, chains, and buckles. So many creative hairstyles and outfit choices. He truthfully felt that he was in his element. It was nice.

Oh! Es-pecially the fine thing standing right in front of him.

Well, he assumed that she looked good. He was absolutely digging her hair. She had large Bantu Knots going across her head. It was was a nice Cajun Spice color. This hair definitely takes the cake for him.

His eyes trail down her body to look at her outfit. She had fishnets on her legs and torso. Over the fishnets, she had on an AC/DC crop top with jagged edges that she probably cut herself. Her bottoms were black ripped shorts. Extremely short, they wrapped around her ass so nicely, and some of the flesh hung out of them. He couldn’t see too much of her feet, but he could guess that she’s wearing Demonias. He really wanted to see the front of her choker.

She was moving to the music and shaking her hips to the beat of ‘The Boy’s a Liar.” It was a cute song in his opinion, and her dance was just as adorable. But it was dangerous how the plush of her ass moved in those shorts.

Her friend who was dancing beside her accidentally backed into him. She turned to apologize and Hobie gave her a nod and a “you’re good,” then went right back to staring at Bantu Knots. The girl peeped him, and she smiled and nudged her to get her attention. She whispers in her ear, then turns back around completely.

When Hobie makes eye contact with Bantu Knots, his heart feels like it’s slowing down. Then, immediately, it runs. She had big brown eyes and the cutest ring on her round nose. Her makeup wasn’t much, but she still looked stunning. She clearly had on foundation, concealer and some sort of powder. She had long false lashes on, sharp wings, and black glossy lips. On the flush of her cheek, there was a small black heart drawn with eyeliner. She was gorgeous.

He was mesmerized, it was like his body did the work for him when he nodded and smirked at her. She gave him a sideways smile back, looked him up and down, then turned back around. The whistle that Hobie let out was long and smooth. Miles nudges him in the arm having been witness to the whole thing. Hobie grins.

He takes another chance to enrapture her. He taps her shoulder than leans down next to her ear. He keeps his voice low, and mutters, “I love your hair.”

He guessed she really liked that compliment, because she immediately lights up and turns around fully to look at him. The girl puts her hand on his shoulder to pull his ear towards her. A shock courses through his body when her breath hits his skin.

“I love yours, too.”

Somehow, her voice was even more breathtaking than she was. Hobie shivers. He resists the urge to ask her if she wanted to use his wicks as handle bars. Then he blinks. He has no idea where that idea came from, but he liked it.

He also liked her voice. She didn’t sound like she was local. Most spidermen in the spider society were from New York or some variation of it. He had heard his fair share of Northern American accents. Hers was more southern. Not nearly as southern as Webslinger’s though. Or, a different kind of southern.

"You’re not from around here, are you?” He asks her.

“Neither are you, mate.”

Hobie chuckled at her joke. Even though she was mocking him, it was pretty good. He decided then that he likes her and he doesn’t want to stop talking to her. He looks to his side to see Miles caught up in his own conversation with his new buddies. Good, he’s occupied.

“I don’t entirely think it’s fair that you know where I’m from and I don’t know where you’re from.” He suggest.

“I’m from Atlanta,” she answers, her deep voice relaxing him. “I moved to Brooklyn not to long ago.”

That was interesting. “Oh, really?” He wondered what might have brought her all the way up here.

She nodded. “What about you?”

Hobie rubbed his chin and quickly thought of a small lie to tell you. “I’m just visiting my bro, he invited me to this concert. I’ve never heard her music before, but I like what he showed me.”

The girl gasped as if Hobie had just told her of a terrible crime. “You've never listened to Rico before?”

Hobie shook his head. “Don’t worry, love. That’s gonna change real soon. Especially when her fans look like this.” He looked her body over and smirked.

She returns his advance with a sensual smile of her own. “Like what?”

His face doesn’t fall. “Like, bare fit.”

“What that mean?”

“It’s UK for, ‘fine as hell.’”

She continued smiling at him. They stared at each other for a second, then she spoke. “My name is Y/N.”

“Hobie.”

Before she could continue talking to him, the music starts to pick up a bit more. The playlist becomes a little more raunchy. She turns back around to dance with her friends and Hobie begins rapping along with Miles. While the music played, Hobie would occasionally catch Y/N’s eyes look at him. She was dancing really cutely, which was absolutely not the vibe of the songs that were currently playing. He could tell she wanted to really move. But, she was most likely afraid of making him uncomfortable.

Hobie had to let her know that he wants it. With all the confidence and audacity he can muster, he rubs his hand on her lower back, wrapping his fingers and palm around her waist. She turns slightly to look at him, and her eyes are full of mischief. Hobie leans over to her ear once again. Her friends are watching the scene somewhat discreetly and giggling.

“You can throw it back on me, love. I don’t mind at all.”

Apparently, that was all she needed to get absolutely loose with it. She beamed at him, caught the beat, then started dancing on him while he held her waist. Hobie’s grip is firm, but he doesn’t force their hips together, no matter how much it would turn him on. This wasn’t the first time he’s been twerked on, but he hasn’t been this into it. He grabs the other side of her hips with his other hand.

She bounces herself on him a couple times, and Hobie had never been more happy that he was wearing jeans. He doesn’t know how she would react to feeling his boner on her. However, the thought excites him. How good would it feel to just start humping into her backside? Everyone is paying attention to themselves. Would anyone even notice if he slipped his finger in between her thick thighs and underneath her shorts?

As she continues to dance on him, his imagination begins to run wilder. He doesn’t even realize how much time had passed and that the opener had already came and gone. There was a new DJ who was to introduce Rico any second now, and all Hobie could do was watch her skin bounce on his pants. There’s only a slit going from the back of her shorts to the front to cover her pussy. He assumes that she has a thong on, or he would be able to see her panties. If she just bent over a little more and stuck her ass in the air, Hobie could play with her for a little bit. And if he just angled his hips down a bit, he could pull it to the side, unzip his jeans, and just…

That would be disgusting. Fucking this random girl in the middle of a mosh pit floor. It excites him. He wonders if she likes that idea too. He doesn’t even realize that she has moved his arms completely to the front of her torso. His hands were gripping her lower stomach. She was practically grinding on him. Hobie’s mouth opened only slightly. He licked his bottom lip then bit it, not noticing the way Miles’s eyebrows lifted in shock.

At one point she looked back at him without stopping with the same bright smile on her face. Just when Hobie was about to say ‘fuck it’, the DJ begins to hype everyone up. He lets go of Y/N and looks towards the stage. The lights are going crazy. So is the crowd.

Miles is shaking his arm back and forth. “That girl was going crazy!”

Hobie slapped their hands together and bumped his chest. “Hell yeah.” He takes one more look at her back. As if she feels his eyes on her, she looked back at him. They smile and she turns around. Hobie doesn’t stop.

Miles squints his eyes. “Wait a minute, big fella.” He holds his arms out. “Whatchu thinkin’?”

Hobie shrugs, but still doesn’t stop looking at her. “I’m not thinking anything, mate.”

The crowd gets louder as one of Rico’s songs finally start playing.

“You ready?” Miles yells at him.

“Ha!” Hobie laughs and grabs Miles’s arms. “Are you? Your first time moshing, big steppa,” He shouts back.

“I’m scared as hell!”

“Don’t be! I got you!”

With that, Rico finally comes out and the crowd screams. All at once, the entire venue starts jumping. Hobie’s eardrums feel like they’re about to explode. With the way he’s moving along with his height and his firm grip over Miles’s shoulders, he feels sorry for the people behind and next to him.

The crowd isn’t pushing so much as everyone is just too filled with adrenaline to stay still. Rico herself is having a lot of fun on the stage too. Jumping up and down with everyone, screaming into the mic, feeding off the crowds amazing energy. Hobie’s really feeling it too. He hadn’t been moshing for a while, it felt good to be in his element.

As the songs change, the crowd gets more and more hype, but it isn’t until STFU when they really start moving.

Hobie doesn’t let go of Miles and pushes people around, almost falling over himself. At the same time, he makes sure to push against Y/N’s back. Everyone is screaming, pushing and throwing themselves into each other. It’s wild, hot, and exciting. It’s the most fun Hobie has had for a minute.

Y/N kept up pretty well, as if she’s true to this too. The concert goes on, and Rico begins to play her more down tempo songs. Hobie and Miles are sweating , but Miles is heaving. Hobie nudges him.

“You alright, bro?” Miles doesn’t stop heaving, but gives him a thumbs up. Hobie groans and slaps his head.

“Bro, so sorry, I completely forgot to bring some water for you. Ay listen, we can go and get some, and I’ll push us back up here, that good?” He suggests.

Miles waved him off. “Nah man,” he says exasperated. “I’m chilling.”

His new group of friends hand him a hydro flask and tells him to waterfall. Hobie thinks it’s gross, but it gets the job done. Miles looks fine again. He sighs in relief and turns back to see Y/N just vibing.

He takes the liberty to tap her shoulder and lean down into her ear. “You doing okay?” She was sweating, so was he, but she was still the most gorgeous girl in the venue.

She smiled at him thankfully and nodded. Once again, placing her hand on his shoulder she talks into his ear. “Yeah, thank you. What about you? You look just as crazy as I do.”

Hobie laughs. “How bad do I look?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t say you look bad, baby. I said you look crazy. I like it.” Hobie’s heart flutters at the pet name, her southern drawl coming out a bit. He decides then that this can’t be the only time they talk.

“How much do you like it?” Pussy Poppin’ begins to play, Y/N turns around, grabs his hands to put them around her waist and begins to dance on him again. Hobie smiles again. This time, there’s no letting of each other. His hands remain on her waist for some time. She often looks back and stares at him. He knows this girl likes him just as much as he does and if he was only back in his universe, he would have grabbed her and swung her back to his place immediately. But, he can’t leave Miles-

Where is Miles?

Hobie lets go of her and begins looking around in a panic. She becomes worried. “Are you okay?” She yells while placing her hand on his chest. Hobie is too worried to revel in her touch, but one of the boys Miles was interacting with gets his attention.

“Hey, that boy, Miles?” He starts. “He said to tell you he was feeling lightheaded so he went to his dorm.” Hobie closes his eyes and sighs in relief. But he was also upset that he had just left without a word. Then, the kid gets his attention once more. “Um, he also said good luck with your girl.”

Ah, so that’s why. That’s kind of awkward.

“Everything alright?” Y/N asks again.

Hobie’s reassuring smile relaxes her. “It’s fine. Was looking for my bro but he went home.”

That mischievous glint in her eye came back. "So you’re free?”

Hobie pauses. Was this really happening right now? Was he really this lucky? “Yeah.”

“Want to go to my place after this? I got a blunt.”

The night just keeps getting better. Hobie chased off a stupid smile and says a thankful prayer to whatever is listening. Then he realizes. It’s only gone 10:00. The concert can’t be ending for at least another hour.

“After?” Hobie debates his next move, then he grabbed her hand. Without looking away from her, he slowly brings her hand to feel his crotch. Her eyes widened. He was very turned on, he had been since she backed up on him. He rubbed her hand up and down a bit so she could feel his arousal even better. When she began squirming and rocking back and forth on her feet, Hobie's smirk grows. Her legs were clenched shut and she couldn’t take her eyes off his waist. He leans down again, his breath making her shudder. “You see what you did to me? You’re really gonna make me wait, love?”

He stares into her eyes. Hers flicker back and forth between his, and eventually to his studded lips. Hobie anticipates her answer, but from the way she began to grip his member he knows she’ll take him up on his offer.

She takes in a breath, turns to tell her friends that she’s leaving, the grabs Hobie’s arm and starts walking through the crowd.

ending a/n: That’s the end of part one to the story. How did you guys like it so far? I wanted to add a few Rico songs to get a gist of how the concert went, but I didn’t want to overload the story. I hope the suggestiveness is to y’all’s liking. I promise the nasty raunchy sex is coming next. I can’t help but to write lore for every story I write, so you, the reader, will have a little back ground story in the next part. Just a couple of heads up, it will be a little bit angsty towards the end, and involve having sex while under the influence. They’ll be smoking while they’re fucking, basically.

about the author: I do not write for this fandom, this will be my first and probably only story involving spiderverse. I write Jujutsu Kaisen fanfiction, pretty much exclusively Toji. I also don’t write on Tumblr. I will link my AO3 but please be warned that the stories I write have very dark content matter and are angst the whole way through.

[wedontdeservethestars]

JOHNNY CAGE X SHORT CHUBBY READER I TELL YOU HE LOVES HIS WOMEN THICC

ANON I'M NOT EVEN GONNA SAY THIS A CORRECT OPINION BECAUSE IT'S SO CORRECT THAT IT'S A STRAIGHT-UP FACT. Johnny prefers his girls chubby change my mind!!!!!!!!!!! (Hint: you cannot)

Anyways I know I say that I never write smut but I uh. I did this time. Congrats anon you got me to come out of my shell for Our Boy

Content: reader has female genitalia, smut, fluff, body worship, overall just a Lovely Time between you two

(Pspspsps I also put this on AO3 if anyone would like the link for that teehee)

You had no idea what it was about red carpet events that made Johnny up act but, but every time he invited you out to accompany him, it was a constant fight not to let the paparazzi see his hands all over you. Not that you minded much, but hey, one of you had to have some decency. Maybe it was the stream of complementary alcohol, maybe it was seeing you all dolled up in a pretty silk dress, maybe it was the inherent nature of red carpet events essentially being an excuse to say, “Hey, look how pretty I am, look how pretty my partner is,” or maybe, just maybe, it was a combination of all three. 

Never mind, you thought as Johnny pushed you up against the front door. It’s definitely the dress. 

Just like they had been for the past few hours, his large hands were grabbing and squeezing ever part of you he could manage like a fucking kid in the pillow section at Bed, Bath & Beyond. And the more he felt each curve, the more excited he seemed to be getting, attacking your throat and shoulders and face with his mouth.

“Hey,” you chuckled breathlessly. “Easy.”

“Don’t know–” Another kiss on your neck. “What you’re talkin’ about–” This one landed on your soft jawline. “Doll–”

“Can we at least get to the couch or something before I’m fully nude this time?” you whispered, a smirk playing on your lips. Johnny looked at you very seriously and shook his head.

“No shot.” He grabbed he straps of your dress and, with a not-too-unhappy sigh, you slipped your arms out of them. Your puppy of a boyfriend knelt in front of you and slowly, teasing both you and himself, pulled the front of your dress down. He really did love how it looked on you, the tight material hugging every single rondure and roll, the deep red shimmering in each crease of the fabric. But even more than he loved you in that dress, he loved you out of that dress. 

You let out a soft sound as his hot sigh of breath tickled your skin when he saw you standing there just in your bra and panties. Without fail, he always acted as though he was seeing you for the first time whenever you were in any state of undress. 

“Fucking goddess,” he murmured, and then his lips were all over your front. He was hugging your thick thighs like they were the only thing that would save him. His mouth dragged all around your belly and chest, pausing on occasion to kiss more deliberately or nibble a piece of soft skin. Each pause earned a small gasp or sigh from you.

“Johnny,” you whispered. 

“Huhm?” He glanced up at you, midway through giving one of your love handles a hickey and not bothering to stop. 

“You’re…” Your thoughts swam madly. The only thing you could focus clearly on were the warm tingles coursing through your nerves. You could hardly put a sentence together. “I need you on top of me…”

A smirk fell upon his lips and he pulled away from your tummy, admiring his work for a moment. Then, he grabbed your ass with both hands and squeezed hard, humming. 

“I can do that.” 

In a flash, he was lifting you into his arms. You couldn’t stop a smile from coming across your lips–somehow it always surprised you when he carried you, even though you knew that he was more than strong enough to support your weight. All that time spent building up his muscles wasn’t just for show.

Your bedroom was an agonizingly long way away up a whole entire flight of stairs. Clearly, Johnny couldn’t wait that long, because he brought you to the nearest couch instead (well, technically it was a fainting couch; Johnny said he needed it for dramatics, whatever that meant). 

Johnny wasted no time in unhooking your bra and discarding it on the floor. Your panties were next. The velvet sofa felt foreign against your bare skin, but not unwelcome. He took a breath as he straddled you and began to unbutton his dress shirt. The whole while, he stared down at you. His brown doe-eyes gleamed with adoration. 

“Look at you,” his voice rumbled like distant thunder. 

“You’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?”

“Ohhh, longer than that,” he chuckled. His hands were tracing you again. He couldn’t seem to help himself. “I’m always thinking about this, stardust.”

“It’s so hard to tell,” you teased, your own fingers dancing along his toned thighs. His skin felt hot, and you didn’t think it was just because of the Californian summer heat. 

“Like it’s my fault?” He leaned down and peppered kisses all along one of your breasts. Pausing before continuing on, he grinned up at you, “How’m I supposed to keep it in my pants when I have the most gorgeous girl on earth around me all the time?”

A moan slipped out of you as he pulled your nipple between his teeth and grabbed the other between his thumb and forefinger. You squirmed beneath him and tried to get a coherent response out. 

“Can–God–can you–” Your breath was short. “Need you to touch me…”

“Yes, ma’am.” Johnny gladly slid himself down, taking the time to admire and graze your belly with his mouth. You could feel how hard he was against your plush thighs, one of which he grabbed and hung up over the back of the couch while the other he spread so it swayed over the floor. 

“God damn, you’re so fucking wet already, aren’t you?” he grinned, running a finger up your folds. You felt it all the way through your spine and it made you buck your hips up. 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, dazed.

His tongue was next, pressing hard against you and flicking expertly between your sensitive lips. A sound that you had never made in your entire life escaped your throat. It only seemed to encourage Johnny as he quickened his pace. For once, he was completely silent save for the occasional grunt or groan, and for the absolute most blissful reason possible. You wanted to praise him, tell him to keep going and that you loved him and that you were in heaven right now, but your words wouldn’t work. Fortunately, the way you were moaning was probably sending the message pretty clearly.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, watching his head bob beneath you. From the way his own hips moved, you could tell he was rubbing his bulge against the couch as he worked on you. His hand, not to go unexercised, gripped one of your thighs–the one propped up on the backseat–and began to massage it. In turn, you yanked on his hair, making his groans vibrate against your pussy. You did it again and again, feeling your heart race. Warmth built up in your chest, and your stomach, and especially your nethers.

After a bit, you pulled his hair more gently, guiding his mouth away from you. Johnny seemed confused and hazy, like he’d just been pulled out of a dream. “I don’t wanna cum yet,” you whispered. You were too close, and too fast. You needed this to last. 

“Can do, babe.” He flashed a smile and sat up. “Gives me some time for this…”

You watched as Johnny finally pushed his slacks down and pulled his length out of his boxer-briefs. He was throbbing and hard, and as he began to stroke himself you could see his tip glistening with precum. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groaned, leaning his head back as he ran his thumb over his slit. 

Suddenly, you decided that you did need to cum. Right now, in fact. You grabbed his hips and guided them forward, an eager look in your eyes. Immediately, Johnny understood.

“Yeah?” he breathed, his lips curving into a smirk.

“Please,” you nodded. Johnny spat into his hand and rubbed it along himself. He tilted your rear up a bit and positioned himself at your entrance. He paused and looked down at you. He smiled.

“What?” you breathed.

The smile, mischievous and greedy, widened. He didn’t move. You let out a whine and pouted. 

“Johnny! Don’t—don’t tease, I can’t right now—“

“Then tell me,” he murmured. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please?” You looked up at him with shiny eyes. “Please fuck me…”

He pushed forward—just enough to brush up against you. “I’m not convinced.”

“Please!” you cried out again. “I need it so bad, you feel so good, and—and I wanna cum, please?”

Johnny chuckled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the center of your chest.

“Only I can make you feel like this. Right, baby?”

“Right,” you nodded quickly. “Yes. You’re fucking—amazing, and, and so hot…”

“Yeah, I am,” he whispered, and then without warning he slid right into you. You let out a whimper so loud that you clapped a hand over your mouth afterwards, your cheeks turning bright red at whatever that was. Johnny chuckled breathlessly and took your hand away, pinning it behind your head.

“No, no, babe. I gotta hear all those pretty little sounds my gorgeous goddess wants to make.”

On cue, the remark made you moan. He rewarded you with a firm thrust against your soft hips. His unoccupied hand sank into your side as he pumped over and over again.

“God—so pretty—“ he muttered. His face was growing several shades darker as he continued.

“Please, please,” you begged again, curling your fingers into fists.

“You close again?” His soft voice broke through.

“Mhmm…” You writhed for a moment before letting your body flow with his, both of you bouncing back and forth. Your eyes fluttered open every now and then. Each time you did, you saw Johnny gazing down at you, his eyes lusted over but filled to the brim with complete obsession with this. With you.

“Oh–” you whispered soon, squeezing your eyes shut. “Johnny, I–I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead, princess,” he nodded, his voice husky and low in a way that you only ever heard during times like this. It drove you over the edge. With one last cry, your legs quivered and you felt yourself close around him, causing a similar moan from him, and each nerve in your system was full of warmth and complete euphoria for a split second. Your breaths began to even out. Your muscles relaxed. Johnny pulled out as you lay there, panting, and finished the job for himself above you. A warm spray landed on your tummy as he grunted and groaned, and then it was over.

Both out of breath, both smiling like idiots, both completely satisfied. 

“Oh, babe,” Johnny sighed about nothing in particular. He sat back and let you shift into a more comfortable position. Everything felt warm and sticky, but you didn’t really mind. 

Johnny trailed a hand up your still-wet stomach and rubbed it gently across all your belly, coating the front of it with his cum. You gave him a shaky sigh at the gesture. It felt strangely nice. 

“I’d offer to clean you up, but you look so pretty like this,” he admitted, giving you a half-hearted shrug. You laughed softly as he stood up anyway and, after nearly forgetting to tug his boxers up, wandered down the hall to one of the first-floor bathrooms, leaving you to bask in the veil of after-arousal. 

You didn’t even notice he’d returned until you felt the towel touch your skin, damp with warm water and no doubt imported from some European country. Once you were all cleaned up, you reluctantly sat up and noticed the dark velvet of the couch was stained where you two had been before.

“Oops,” you chuckled, feeling a little guilty for ruining the luxury fabric but not enough to regret anything. 

“Eh, that’s what the maids are for,” Johnny shrugged, taking a seat beside you. He rested his head against your chest, sighing contentedly.

“I’m so tired now,” you mumbled. “We didn’t even do much…”

“Minus the whole night of drinking and partying?”

“I guess.” You rolled your eyes and rumpled his hair. The pomade he’d slicked it back with had come loose a few hours ago, leaving several strands hanging down in his face. It was cute.

“You’re pretty,” he said suddenly. 

“So you’ve said.” But it still made you blush.

“I know. But I mean it. You’re the prettiest…ever,” he decided on. 

“Hun,” you laughed softly. “Well, thank you.”

“I’m lucky.” He pouted for a moment as he thought. “People always say that. I get lucky breaks and lucky with auditions and lucky with all the deals…but that’s not luck. It’s charisma and talent and whatever. Lucky is, is meeting someone like you out of the blue. Finding you out of seven million people on this earth.”

“Billion.”

“Huh?”

“It’s seven billion people.”

“Whatever.” He buried his face in your chest, muffling is speech. “You get my point.”

“I do,” you whispered. You stroked his hair again and smiled as he gave you a big squeeze. You said, “I love you, too.”