#but even if I did get to watch I still love reading them

[headkiss]

anna oh anna. i see you’re taking spencer request and was wondering if you’d be willing to write something with a childhood friend visiting spencer and the team just embarrassing him cause they can tell they have feelings for each other?

love you anna💗💗

omg erin ik this request is old but i hope u love it anyway 🫶🫶 | 0.9k words of bestfriend!reid fluff!!!

Despite nearly a lifetime of friendship, today is the first time you’re visiting Spencer in Quantico.

You grew up as neighbors, and your friendship wasn’t a slow, gradual thing. Instead, one day, as a kid, you’d knocked on his door and declared him your best friend. He didn’t fight you on it, and that was it.

Whenever he goes back to Vegas to visit his mom, Spencer never fails to visit you, too. Sometimes he stays over and you fall asleep watching movies on your couch, sometimes he can’t stay any longer than a quick meal.

You talk on the phone at least once a week, and you text Spencer every day, though he rarely manages to reply with more than a smiley face because of his thing with technology. You know he reads them all, though.

All of that and still, you’d never been to Quantico until now.

Spencer always told you it wasn’t worth it, that there wasn’t all that much to see and he’d probably get called away on a case, anyway. Selfishly, you would have liked to stay in his apartment even if he was away. To snoop at all of the books he has lying around and be surrounded by him.

After much badgering over the phone, he’d finally invited you to come for a visit and you jumped at the opportunity.

Spencer’s excited to see you. He always is. But something about you coming to Quantico had always made him nervous, like if you got too close to his job, you’d be in danger. Or, less logically, like he’d have to share you with his team, in a sense, and he really liked having you to himself.

Of course, they know about you — he’s got a framed picture of the two of you as teenagers on his desk — but they’ve never met you. Spencer loves his team, and they’ve heard him speak to you on the phone and have asked him about you countless times, but so much of himself is involved in the job, and you’re almost like an escape for him.

Somewhere safe, somewhere separate.

He traces a fingertip across the top of the frame on his desk when the elevator beeps, and the sound of your footsteps reach his ears. He knows it’s you from those alone.

Spencer stands just as you reach the bullpen, and as soon as you spot him you let out a tiny squeal and rush over. He welcomes you into his arms easier than he does anyone else, your arms tight around his neck, his supporting the small of your back.

“Hi, Spence,” you say, cheek against his shoulder, smile in your voice.

“Hi,” he returns, his mouth a breath away from your hair.

Garcia and JJ are standing by the entryway of the bullpen, watching you and Spencer with these knowing looks on their faces. Emily walks up a moment later, just as you pull away from the hug and ruffle Spencer’s hair.

“Is that…?” she asks.

“Yup,” JJ says.

“And they’re just friends?” Emily adds.

“According to them.”

“Sweet, clueless creatures,” comes from Penelope.

Unaware, or maybe just uncaring, of your audience, you fiddle with Spencer’s tie, then his vest, “Look at you. So professional.”

“I actually dress like this most of the time.”

“And look at your badge!” You flick it where it’s clipped to his pocket. “Can I have one?”

“You’re wearing a visitor’s badge.”

“So not as cool.” You scan your eyes across his desk, pausing at the picture of the two of you. You hadn’t known that was there, and your heart squeezes a bit at the thought of him keeping it where he can see it. “Did you just put that picture there for my visit?”

“Of course not,” he scratches the back of his neck lightly. “It’s always been there. They like to tease me about it.”

“Spence,” you start, eyes flicking over his face. You want to say something stupid and cheesy about how sweet he is, about how warm that makes you feel. Instead, you say “You’ve even got your glasses on. Very smart, Dr. Reid.”

Back by the entrance, Rossi and Morgan join the others. “Reid’s friend from home?” Dave checks.

“Uh-huh,” Garcia nods.

“And they’re still just friends?” Derek points between the two of you.

JJ, Emily, and Garcia all nod.

“Kids,” Rossi sighs.

You push Spencer’s glasses back up his nose gently. “Or should I say, the resident boygenius.”

“How did you-”

“Oh, I met Penelope in the elevator. She’s lovely.” You turn around and wave at her.

She waves back, beaming.

It’s then that Spencer realizes the entire team has been watching your exchange all along. He closes his eyes and huffs before taking you over to them and introducing you, even though he’s aware they know who you are.

Derek turns his charm on a little extra when he says hello to you, and Spencer’s hands twitch at his sides, his brows scrunched.

When JJ and Garcia distract you with a story that’s sure to be an embarrassing one, Morgan nudges Spencer’s shoulder with his, “She’s pretty great.”

“She’s the best person I know.”

Derek doesn’t even pretend to be wounded at that. He only grins like he knows something.

Hotch watches through the window of his office, that barely-there upward tug of his mouth on his face. He hasn’t seen Spencer smile the way he does with you in a long time.

[mr2swap]

Stepdad and son time

-Calm down old man, A cigarette won't ruin “My” body-

My stepfather Steve smiled confidently at me and then flexed his huge arms just to reinforce his point.

-I even think they are a little bigger than the last time you saw them, right Steve?-

Despite being outdoors the powerful aroma that came from the smoke reached my nose, that aroma was so familiar, but at the same time it was different I could remember the taste, however I had never tasted one. It was the old and dry lips of my stepfather, those Who remembered the delicious and soothing taste of that horrible habit.

-Oh! How rude I have been... Do you want any of this?? -

Steve took a couple of steps towards me and held the cigarette towards my face, the same face he had left behind 3 years ago. I'm not sure how he did it, but I have no doubt that he is to blame for what I now look like. As an overweight, middle-aged Southern man, I couldn't resist the soothing taste of a good cigarette.

Suddenly my mind relaxed and all the hatred I felt for the guy who had ruined my life vanished. Steve looks as damn happy and confident as the last time I saw him. We continue fishing, drinking and talking as if we were really a couple. Stepfather and his son having a good time, son of a bitch…

When I lived with my mom, he and I never got along well, sometimes we went days without talking even if our room was only a couple of meters away. To me, Steve was just a lazy idiot who was lucky to find someone like my mom.

Although my mom tried to get us closer multiple times, she didn't succeed, Steve and I were very different. I used to be a sports fan, I spent time with my friends playing all day or sweating in the gym, but all that changed when I turned 21 years old, Steve suddenly began to take an interest in my life in a somewhat obsessive way. He started watching the videos I posted about my workouts on Instagram and looking at my friends' profiles.

But the most obvious proof that he was the cause of all this was that just a week after we "mysteriously" woke up in the other's body, Steve left the house in the middle of the night with my motorcycle, the selfish bastard. The only thing he left me was his social security number and a small message:

“I'm sorry that we couldn't find out what caused us to exchange our bodies, but I think we should both continue with our lives. Take care of your mother and don't worry... I'll go visit.”

Since that day my life has been shit, I don't know what the fuck he did to me, but since that day I've had to fight every day with that little voice in my head That makes me act like an idiot, Sometimes and all I can think about is How damn hot it is in the house and how good I could use a six-pack of beer. I guess he thought he would do me a favor by doing that to me to blend in more, or maybe I'm just his trash can where he dumped his shitty habits including his taste in women and Susan, my mother.

Every night before I go to sleep I try to be so fucking drunk that I forget what I do at night with my own mother and when I can't get my mother to give me money for the beers I masturbate furiously in the bathroom to relieve my desire for the disgusting sex with mom

If you're still horny and want to read more of my m2m bodyswap stories, subscribe to my Ko-fi I have over 250 stories in my archives

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Chapter 02;

— Your Sweet Love

Synosis: In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.

Navigation: Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 Pairing: fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon Genre: Arranged Marriage trope; Angst; Fluff; Sexual themes; Warnings: cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;) Music: Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!! Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist! Words: 5k - New Chapter Every Saturday!!

A/n: Chapter 02 is here and i'm so excited AHHH. I love this chapter very, very much... the tension between them is growing stronger as time goes by and it's so fun to write! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it!! Thank you for all the love and support. It means everything to me <3

You found it strange at first, but now, it’s a little easier to get used to his company. After having a meal with you the other day, Sunghoon comes down every morning for breakfast. He usually doesn’t say much, his grogginess still holding him hostage. Still, he seems more comfortable with you now, and it makes you feel good.

Today is different, though. Instead of cooking breakfast, you woke up early, went to his favorite bakery, and bought some fresh pastries. Sunghoon wakes up and finds it strange how quiet the house is, knowing you’re always loud when cooking. As he slowly approaches the kitchen, you try to hide a smile, excited to see his reaction.

“Woah, when did you buy these?” Sunghoon’s deep voice sounds surprised and excited as he steps inside. The delicious smell of freshly baked goods and brewed coffee fills the room.

You smile at him. “I went to get them half an hour ago!” you explain, handing him his warm mug of coffee. Sunghoon closes his eyes, inhaling the steam rising from the mug, then shifts his attention to you.

“Thank you, for all of this,” he confesses softly, his voice carrying a hint of embarrassment.

Your attentive eyes meet his, and you respond with a gentle smile. As your brown eyes lock with his, the mood suddenly shifts. The quiet within the house becomes almost deafening, and Sunghoon finds himself mesmerized by your face.

Your long lashes frame your eyes perfectly, and your skin looks soft, inviting his touch. The fullness of your cheeks gives you an adorable, youthful glow. But what captivates him most is your mouth—your pink, plump lips. Sunghoon can’t tear his eyes away from them, entranced, not even registering the words you’re saying.

“Did you even hear me?” you tease, tilting your head with a soft laugh.

“Sorry…” he mumbles, warmth creeping up his cheeks.

“I said… do you want to have dinner with me today?” you repeat, watching his expression closely. Sunghoon looks at you with a gaze you can’t quite decipher.

The truth is, he’s rarely home for lunch or dinner. You don’t know if it’s because he eats at work or simply forgets to feed himself, but when he returns, it’s always past 10 p.m., and you’re already waiting for him in the living room.

“Yeah,” he replies simply, though his mind is racing with countless thoughts.

“Great!” you say, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you take a sip of your coffee.

The silence that follows is familiar and comforting. The two of you eat quietly, occasionally glancing at the TV for the daily news. Today feels lighter—the sun is streaming through the blinds, spreading warmth throughout the house and making it seem cozier despite the usual distance between you two.

After a few minutes, Sunghoon rises from the table and prepares to leave for work, murmuring a quiet “see you later” as the door shuts behind him. You linger at the table, reflecting on the past few weeks and all the small moments you’ve shared with him.

You still stand by your words: you aren’t trying to seduce him. All the patience and care you’ve shown him stem from a deep understanding of his scars. Despite his cold demeanor, you know he’s a good man.

When you first started living together, you and Sunghoon barely interacted. You avoided each other, sneaking around the house to minimize contact. But the effort was draining. Eventually, you decided it would be better to try and get on his good side—to make your shared life less painful.

It felt easier to have him as a friend rather than an enemy, so you began doing for him what you once wanted to do for your old lover. You woke up early to prepare his meals, offering him quiet companionship and care. Though it was difficult at first, you persisted, and over time, it worked.

As you get up to clean the breakfast mess, your thoughts drift to Sunghoon in a way you never expected. His deep, dark-brown eyes carry so much pain, and their intensity quickens your pulse. His smile, with those pointy fangs that peek out, is disarmingly seductive. The first time you saw him smile, it felt as though he had cast a spell on you, his lips so red and inviting…

You chuckle softly, shaking your head at yourself. It’s a hollow laugh, tinged with self-deprecation because you feel pathetic for thinking about him this way. You know he’s still attached to his ex-fiancée—it’s written all over his face whenever he looks at you, as if he’s searching for her in you.

The cold water from the sink jolts you back to reality as you wash the dishes. You remember the promise you made to yourself: you can’t let yourself get lost in his beautiful eyes or unexpectedly warm smile—not when you still love someone else. The thought of that man makes tears well up in your eyes, the ache of missing him cutting deep.

Shaking your head gently, you focus on the task at hand, unwilling to unpack those emotions now. You continue your chores, your empty mind guiding you through each task. It’s not healthy to suppress your feelings, but it’s the only way you can cope.

Upstairs, just as you finish making your bed, you hear the front door close. Plastering on a smile, you walk to the corridor.

“Get over here, silly!” Sunghoon’s mom calls out playfully, her tired eyes lighting up as she looks at you from the main floor.

You let out a genuine laugh and hurry downstairs, your steps echoing on the stone staircase.

“I forgot you were coming!” you pout, opening your arms for the warm hug she eagerly gives you.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Let’s sit down,” she says, patting the empty space on the sofa.

Before joining her, you head to the kitchen to prepare two cups of tea. Knowing her preferences, you take your time, listening as she talks about her plans for a new coffee shop. Her ability to turn mundane topics into captivating stories never ceases to amaze you. Once the tea is ready, you return to the sofa, fully engrossed in her words.

“But enough about me,” she says, her voice softening. “How’s Sunghoon?”

You sip your tea, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks. “I think he doesn’t hate me anymore,” you joke, though the fact that was true before, stings.

“Really? What about the pills? Is he still taking them?” she asks, her tone tinged with concern.

“I think he’s stopped,” you reply thoughtfully. “At least, he’s been sleeping well. Sometimes, he falls asleep in the living room when we hang out before bed. No pills.”

“That’s wonderful news!” she says with a tender smile, relief evident in her expression. “Is he still ignoring you?”

You hesitate, feeling a need to maintain some boundaries despite your fondness for her.

“Not anymore,” you answer after a pause. “We’ve been having breakfast together.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, though a knowing smile spreads across her face. She had always believed this moment would come, which is why she chose you for her son in the first place.

Sunghoon’s mom has known you since you were a child. Your mother was her friend, so you grew up around her. She knows your struggles—the good and the bad—and has always been a source of comfort and understanding.

As Sunghoon’s mom quietly admires your beautiful face she gets flashbacks of your red, puffy face as you cried all the water you had in your body in her arms. That night had been particularly hard for you.

Your own mother was cold and distant, especially after your father left. But unlike her, Sunghoon’s mom had always been there for you. Her words were soothing, her embrace secure, and you trusted her implicitly.

When she proposed the idea of marrying Sunghoon, promising you a life free from financial struggle, you accepted. She believed you had the patience and warmth her son needed, while he could be the love you longed for.

“I hope you two grow even closer,” she says warmly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You deserve all the love in the world, hun.”

Tears prick your eyes as you try to believe her words, though your past makes it hard.

“Sunghoon is a good man,” she continues. “I told you, he just needed patience and care.”

You fidget nervously, your free hand twisting in your lap. “It hurts when he talks about his past,” you admit quietly.

She notices the way your eyes soften when you speak of him. There’s a brightness there that fills her with hope.

“He’s been through a lot,” she agrees, guilt flashing across her face. “I hope, one day, he shares everything with you. I hope you won’t be scared or pity him—I hope you’ll understand and help him heal.”

Her serious tone leaves your mind racing. Has Sunghoon endured more than just a lack of his father’s love? Has he suffered in ways you can’t yet imagine?

Sensing your thoughts, she quickly adds, “It’s all in the past now, I hope.”

Your hesitant eyes meet hers again, and a warm feeling surges in your chest. You know Sunghoon resents his mother, but you don’t understand why—not when she’s always been so kind and supportive to you.

As she sets down her empty mug and kisses your forehead goodbye, you find yourself wondering why Sunghoon refuses to speak to her. Was she neglectful too? Or complicit in his father’s abuse?

You wanted this dinner to be perfect. It had to be, so you could maintain the good atmosphere between you and Sunghoon. But you should have known better, because just as the day had turned dark and moody, so too would your precious dinner.

You wore something elegant yet simple, not wanting to scare him off: black dress pants and a beautiful cropped red shirt with the first two buttons undone, exposing your collarbones. Your hair, usually free and wild, was carefully tied in a low bun.

On your hands, you wore your expensive wedding ring alongside another silver ring you'd bought years ago. A thin necklace hung around your chest, paired with your favorite perfume.

The potatoes and fish were already cooking in the oven when Sunghoon arrived, their delicious aroma drawing him to the kitchen and making his stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten all afternoon, eagerly waiting for this meal with you. One of the things he loves most about you is your cooking—you’ve won his heart through his stomach.

Peeking inside, Sunghoon watched as you paced around the kitchen, finishing up the meal. His curious eyes traveled over your figure, taking in the way your small frame looked incredibly beautiful in the semi-formal clothes. Your legs fit the straight-leg pants perfectly, accentuating your waist and the bold red of your shirt caught his attention immediately.

His curious gaze shifted from the buttons to your collarbones, deliciously exposed for him to admire. You have such an alluring neck... it looks like his head would fit there perfectly.

Images of him planting slow, wet kisses along your neck clouded his mind. He imagined the way you’d close your eyes, the soft moan you’d let out, and the way you’d probably call his name with a breathy voice.

Sunghoon shook his head, trying to pull himself out of his thoughts. Was this magnetic pull because you were a beautiful woman and he was just a man? Or was it something deeper? He rolled his eyes at himself, dismissing the thought.

“Don’t just stand there! Come in, sit down!” Your voice broke through his daydreaming, catching him off guard.

Sunghoon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he slowly stepped into the kitchen and sat down, watching as you moved to the corner and reached for the top drawer. He observed your futile attempt to grab the handle, standing on tiptoes and stretching as far as you could without success.

Feeling his intense gaze, you turned around and shot him a quick look. You wished he’d just get up and help, but instead, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting for you to ask.

Frustrated, you bit your lip. “Can you… help me?” you said softly, hating that he made you ask.

“Sure, I can,” Sunghoon replied with a smirk as he finally stood and walked toward you. Your eyes followed his every move, and as he stood close, you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

“I want the bread,” you muttered, turning away shyly.

Sunghoon easily reached for the cupboard, grabbed the bread, and placed it on the counter. Then, his deep brown eyes locked with yours.

For a moment, the world seemed to quiet down. You became hyper-aware of your quick breaths and his intoxicating cologne. Sunghoon couldn’t explain it, but the way your brown eyes stared into his made him shiver.

A sudden clap of thunder startled you, making you jump.

The spell was broken as your eyes darted around the room nervously. Sunghoon took the chance to sit back down, trying to ease the heavy feeling in his chest.

“I’m just going to cut the bread, and then dinner will be ready!” you said quickly, your voice making your nervousness easy to spot.

Sunghoon nods and reaches for his phone, forgotten in his pocket. As soon as he unlocks it, he finds a series of unread texts. Most of them were from his ex-fiancée, asking how his day had been and whether he liked the pills she had given him. He sighed deeply, his thumb hovering over the reply box—until you called his name.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He immediately stood and rushed over. Your glossy eyes met his as one of your hands shook, clutching the other.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed. He’d never seen you cry before. But then his gaze dropped to the floor, where a thick drop of blood splattered onto the tiles. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice heavy with concern.

He gently pried your hands apart and froze, horrified at the sight. Blood dripped from your right palm in thick droplets, painting the floor red. Tears spilled from your eyes as you stood there, frozen and scared.

Sunghoon panicked. He grabbed paper towels, pressing them against your hand, but they were quickly soaked through.

“You’re going to be okay,” he reassured, his voice firm as he cupped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. His fingers brushed against your cheek, though he resisted the urge to wipe away your tears.

You nodded silently, doing as he instructed. Sunghoon quickly wrapped a kitchen towel around your hand and guided you to the door. Your mind was hazy and unfocused, his warm touch still lingering on your skin.

Kneeling, he helped you slip on a pair of his trainers—the closest shoes he could reach, not caring if they were too big. Then, grabbing his coat, he guided you outside toward his car.

The drive to the hospital was short but tense. Raindrops streaked the windows, blurring the city lights as you stared outside, tears silently slipping down your cheeks. You weren’t sure why you’d frozen or why you couldn’t stop crying. The pain wasn’t severe. Perhaps it was the frustration of ruining what was meant to be a perfect dinner. Or maybe it was the way Sunghoon had immediately dropped everything to help you, his eyes full of worry and his hands trembling.

At the hospital, they quickly took you in, leading you to a small room where they began treating your wound. But the image of Sunghoon standing helplessly in the hallway, his hands stained with your blood, remained vivid in your mind. You barely registered the doctor stitching your palm as you replayed the scene over and over.

“Are you okay? Did it hurt? Did they treat you well? If not, just say the word, and I’ll make them pay for it. I’m rich enough to make it happen,” Sunghoon said as he leaned toward you, his voice full of genuine concern.

His worry was so evident that it made you want to cry all over again. Your heart ached as you watched him speak, his lips moving gently as his words flowed. You were too tired to respond, your vision blurring from exhaustion.

Noticing the pale color of your face and the dark circles under your eyes, Sunghoon softened. “Sit here. I’ll talk to the receptionist, and then we’ll go get something to eat,” he said with a gentle smile.

“This is actually better than I expected,” Sunghoon mumbles, taking a sip from his Coca-Cola bottle. He sneaks a glance at you, satisfied to see some color finally returning to your face.

“I love these so much,” you confess in a low voice, slurping the spicy ramen noodles.

Sunghoon giggles at the sight of you, noticing how the sauce has left a stain on your lips. He picks up a napkin and leans forward, reaching for you. You shyly lean closer, assuming he’s about to wipe your mouth for you—and he does. Awkwardly.

“I thought you wanted to…” you mumble, a red blush spreading across your cheeks as it dawns on you that he probably meant to hand you the napkin, not clean your mouth himself.

Sunghoon bursts out laughing again, finding your innocence endearing. Your wide, confused eyes meet his as he sets the dirty napkin down.

“It’s okay. I forgive you this time—only because you’re injured,” Sunghoon teases, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The two of you continue eating in silence, your gaze drifting to the window. You lazily watch the people walking through the city streets. The rain has stopped, allowing everyone to wander freely without umbrellas, though large puddles still dot the roads.

The drive home is quiet once more, except for the soft hum of a slow, romantic song playing on the radio. You rest your head against the window, your eyes heavy with fatigue. Sunghoon glances at you out of the corner of his eye, ensuring you’re comfortable.

When you get home, you immediately head to the kitchen to check on the food still sitting inside the stove. You tried opening it, but your right hand was neatly tied around your neck, and your left hand suddenly forgot how to work.

Sunghoon rushes to your side and gently nudges you away. “Don’t worry, I will take care of it.” he insists, noticing the way your face twists in annoyance. “I know you want to do this, but you can’t. You need to rest.”

“Sunghoon…” you start to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Go to bed. I’ll make you some tea and bring it to your room,” he orders, his arched brow and stern expression leaving no room for debate. You pout but reluctantly shuffle away, irritated.

While waiting for the water to boil, Sunghoon carefully placed the food into containers, mentally promising himself to stop by during lunch tomorrow to try the meal you worked so hard on. Soon, the water starts to boil, and he pours some inside your favorite mug.

By the time he reaches your bedroom, his hands are burning from holding the mug. He suddenly realizes the water might be too hot, but his train of thought is interrupted when your door opens. You stand there shyly, waiting for him to hand you the tea.

The scent of chamomile is quickly overtaken by your familiar perfume, and Sunghoon feels his determination falter. His eyes roam over your figure. Your black hair is loose, cascading down your back. And you are wearing an oversized T-shirt, its open collar exposing your delicate skin. Then his gaze travels downward—only to find your bare legs.

Sunghoon quietly wishes he’d met you under different circumstances.

“Here,” he stutters, holding out the mug.

When you reach out to get the warm cup, your shirt lifts just enough to show Sunghoon that you are not wearing any shorts underneath. Your naked thighs are briefly exposed before him. His eyes immediately find yours, and his skin starts to tingle with impure thoughts of you.

You give him a innocent smile and reach out to gently pat his chest. “Thank you for taking care of me, Sunghoon. Good night,” you say softly, your voice dipping just enough to make him feel the weight of each word.

As you close the door, Sunghoon remains rooted in place, standing stupidly in the hallway. His breathing is uneven as he struggles to process what just happened. A shiver runs down his spine as he shuts his eyes, the image of your bare legs and loose shirt etched into his mind. He curses under his breath and runs a hand through his hair, heat spreading through his body.

Heading back to the kitchen to finish tidying up, Sunghoon notices his phone screen lighting up. Rushing to the table, he picks it up and realizes he left it there hours ago. The screen shows six missed calls and a string of unread text messages—all from his ex-fiancée.

Sunghoon takes a long, anxious breath as he glances around the expensive restaurant. The walls are painted terracotta orange, with gold details adorning the ceiling. Sunlight streams through the windows, reflecting off the polished surfaces and hitting his eyes, irritating him further. He looks away, his hands trembling in his lap as his leg bounces nervously.

From across the room, he watches her approach, the sharp click of her expensive high heels echoing loudly with each step. Their eyes meet almost immediately, and the calm feeling he’s so used to dissolves into unease.

As she closes the table, her perfume seems to be everywhere, invading his personal space and making him sick to his stomach. The truth is, ever since he had experienced your compassion and patience, his ex’s harsh demeanor had lost its appeal entirely.

“Finally, I get to see you!” Jiwon exclaims, her voice laced with a teasing edge.

“I wanted to meet you weeks ago, and you turned me down,” Sunghoon replies honestly, his voice firm but restrained.

She doesn’t respond to his comment. Instead, she sets her designer bag on the table with deliberate precision before scanning his face, trying to decipher the distance that’s grown between them.

“Do you not love me anymore?” she asks suddenly, forcing her eyes to glisten with tears as if to make him feel guilty.

“Jiwon…” he says softly, his heart racing with discomfort. He glances around the restaurant, avoiding her gaze. She had always been good at making him feel guilty.

“Is that bitch better than me?” Jiwon spits, her jealousy obvious as her piercing eyes stare into his.

“Don’t call Y/N that,” he warns, his tone clipped, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “No, she’s not better than you. And yes, I still love you.” His voice drops lower, unable to meet her eyes.

Jiwon smirks at his words, her chest swelling with pride. She knows Sunghoon is still under her spell, and she loves it. After all, she’s just as obsessed with him—so much so that she’s willing to do anything to make him hers again.

“I got these new pills,” Jiwon says, reaching into her bag. She pulls out a photograph with a small bag of pills taped to it. “I thought you’d like this,” she adds confidently, tapping the old photo of them.

Sunghoon doesn’t reply. Slowly, he reaches for the picture, his fingers hesitant and cold. Just as he’s about to take it, his phone vibrates with a message. Quickly, he pulls it from his pocket, already knowing it’s from you.

< Are you not coming? > Today, From: Y/N

< You could have told me. I made too much food. :/ > Today, From: Y/N

A wave of guilt washes over him as he reads your texts, cursing himself for forgetting to let you know he was busy. Jiwon leans forward, trying to peek at his screen, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Was that Y/N?” she asks, her voice sharp as she snatches the phone from his hands before he can stop her.

“Jiwon…” he says sternly, his jaw tightening with frustration.

She reads the messages, her lips curving into a mocking pout before she bursts into laughter, echoing through the restaurant.

“Poor thing,” Jiwon sneers, her tone dripping with mockery. “She’s so desperate for your attention—it’s pathetic.” She pouts again, this time fake and exaggerated, her eyes glued to Sunghoon’s face.

Sunghoon grabs the phone back from her hands. “Is this all you wanted to talk about?” he asks, his patience wearing thin as the nausea in his stomach intensifies.

“Yes, hubby,” she responds with a devilish grin, sliding the photo across the table. “Don’t forget these—they’ll help you sleep way better than the other ones in just a few seconds” Jiwon assures him.

Sunghoon exhales deeply, his nerves stretched tight. He picks up the photo, shoving it into his pocket without a word. Rising from his seat, he turns and walks away, leaving a smug and victorious ex-fiancée behind.

You were back at home, eating in silence. Well, at least trying to eat. An uneasy feeling weighed on you, and all you could do was push the food around your plate with your fork.

You glanced outside for a few moments, admiring the beautiful day. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, and you reached for it at lightning speed, hoping it was a message from Sunghoon. But it wasn’t him—just your weather app informing you of the temperature outside.

Frustrated, you pushed your phone away with a sigh, hating how worried you were about him. Deciding you were done with the meal, you got up and tidied the kitchen. That’s when an idea crossed your mind.

The soft breeze against your skin felt freeing and comforting as you strolled outside. You smiled softly at the children running past you in the park. Soon, you spotted him sitting on a wooden bench beneath the shade of a tree.

“Oh my gosh, Sunoo, I missed you so much!” you exclaimed excitedly, wrapping your arms around him in a warm hug.

“Girl, where have you been?” he asked sarcastically, dramatically tucking his blonde hair behind his ear.

“You know, I’m a married woman now. And his house is ridiculously big—there’s always something to do,” you complained, rolling your eyes playfully.

The two of you caught up, chatting about your dramatic marriage and his skyrocketing career as a fashion designer. He looked genuinely happy as he spoke, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

But your mind drifted, thinking about him—the person who had introduced Sunoo to you: Ni-ki. The thought of him made your chest tighten. Sunoo noticed the change in your expression, and his hand reached out to give your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“It’s Sunghoon…” you lied, shaking your head slightly. “There’s a reason I contacted you today. I need your detective skills,” you teased, a mischievous smile curling on your lips.

“Go on, tell me.”

“I think his ex-fiancée is behind all the pills he has,” you said in a low voice, the mood suddenly turning serious. “His mom told me he never had issues sleeping or anything like that. It was only after they started living together that he became addicted.” You paused briefly, choosing your words carefully. “And I know she’s still in contact with him. She keeps spamming his phone.”

Sunoo’s mouth fell open as he stared at you, clearly taken back.

“Wait, that actually makes sense,” he said, his brows furrowing as he nodded. “I can get someone to follow her—no problem,” Sunoo said seriously, his gaze steady as it met yours.

Then, after curiously looking at the big band-aid in your palm, he added, “Wait, what happened to your hand?”

“I cut myself cooking, it's nothing really,” you insisted, breaking eye contact. You knew that if he pushed just a little more, you’d crack.

Thankfully, he let it slide this time. A comfortable silence fell between you as your eyes scanned the bustling park, though your heart remained heavy with thoughts of Sunghoon.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things @nxzz-skz @saphiranishimurashan @ikeupups @yangjungwonnie @xiiaobaoo @itsuen @laylasbunbunny @mellowgalaxystrawberry @firstclassjaylee @questionsdearreader @greeyjre @en-doll @riqomi @lovingvoidgoatee @mitmit01 @miuwonis @aureliaaaa555 @han-to-my-minho @heeweenie @vixensss @ro-diares @hoonvinx @immelissaaa @jiryunn @quilevyt @vrusha01 @kkamismom12 @skzenhalove @theothernads @moonpri @nicoleparadas @fightqueen @heesunghooney @starl0ver4 If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[insomniadreamzz]

Hey I'm absolutely obsessed with your series about the reader having Jinx's child. I would like to ask if you could write a scenario where Jinx arrives at the hideout and the reader is breastfeeding the baby and Isha is laying down with her head resting on the reader's shoulder looking intently at the small figure in the reader's lap, something like Jinx joining them and after putting Isha and the baby to sleep they finally have some alone time and they have romantic but intense sex? Thanks♥️

For more context please read the previous part „Our Family“

———

Our family part 2

G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader

Mentions of smut, G!P, fluff

It was already in the evening, Jinx was the whole day out of her hideout to do some work together with Sevika. You hated it when she was away, knowing it can be really dangerous out there especially when they had to go to Piltover and do some business there.

However, you spend the whole day taking care of Isha and your daughter Powder. playing with Isha while the little one was asleep and right now you were sitting on the couch, feeding your little one while Isha was laying with her head on your shoulder, seeming to feel tired now after a whole day of playing with you when you had the time to. Isha eyed her little sister all the time, she was happy to be a big sister and soon having someone to play with. It was exhausting but you loved your life.

Jinx finally arrived back home at her hideout, immediately smiling when she saw the three of you together, approaching you before placing a kiss on your lips and one on Isha’s temple. „Hey my loves, how was your day?“ She asked before sitting down next to you. „It was…very eventful.“ You chuckled. „How was yours? Did you have success?“ You asked in return, making her nod in response. „Yeah everything went just like planned. I am happy to be back to my family though.“ She mentioned, looking down at the smallest one here with a bright smile. „You three are the reason why I am more careful now and don’t try to bomb myself anymore when I get into serious trouble.“ Jinx said with a little laugh but you knew in fact it wasn’t funny at all.

Every time Jinx was close to lose she wanted to bomb herself and the enemy but that’s not happening anymore. She had a reason now to stay alive and it was you and the kids. A lot of things have changed in her life ever since she met you and you could say she was happy for once in her life. „I think little Powder is done now.“ You said, making the blue haired woman nod, watching you picking up the baby and pat her back gently. „It’s still weird hearing my real name but I gave it a better meaning. Powder is our daughter now and not my old self who…jinxed everything…“ You notice her voice getting softer, making you frown a little bit. „I know Jinxy. Don’t think about your past anymore, focus on the present. The Powder you were isn’t existing now. You’re Jinx and Powder is our little beautiful girl.“ You tried to light her mood up a little and you succeeded, Jinx smiled at your words. „Yes.“ She agreed with you and Isha crawled over to Jinx, hugging her tightly as a little yawn left her.

„Someone looks tired huh? Let’s get you to sleep.“ Jinx mentioned, Isha nodding while rubbing her eyes. You were busy rocking the baby to sleep while Jinx put Isha into bed. The past weeks you and Jinx made sure to make the hideoud ‚baby proof‘ putting up walls on the edges of the giant fan so none of the two girls would ever fall. Especially when Powder will start crawling one day. Better be prepared sooner than later. You even managed to create rooms in there so everyone had their little privacy. Everything was just perfect now.

Powder was finally asleep as well and you made sure to carefully and quietly put her into her baby bed, pulling the blanket over the little figure with a bright smile.

Once both kids were in bed sleeping, you and Jinx finally had their alone time. You both being in your bedroom as you got ready for bed but there was something on Jinx’s mind, you could clearly tell. „Is everything okay my love?“ You asked as you undid her braids, feeling there was something off. „I am good don’t worry. I am very happy and still I can’t figure out how I deserved this…how I deserved you, Isha and Powder. You can’t imagine how happy that makes me, having a family…“ You heard her voice crack in the end of her sentence, she was crying but this time out of happiness which made your eyes tear up as well. „You make me the happiest too.“ You said as you hugged her from behind, now nuzzling into her open, soft blue hair, inhaling her scent. You loved your girlfriend so much it was hard to describe it sometimes.

Jinx shifted, moving a little bit to face you before crashing her lips on yours, both of you kissing each other deeply and with so much love. It turned you on a little when she moved her tongue inside if your mouth, exploring every inch and playing with your tongue, you gave in with a hum, letting her dominate the kiss as you let yourself completely fall, letting her hands slip under your shirt and move up to your breasts, gently squeezing them which made you moan softly. „Jinx…“ You hum softly, breaking the kiss. She looked at you with a lustful gaze, making you blush. „We don’t need our clothes now do we?“ You said with a chuckle and in no time both of you got rid if your clothes, Jinx pushing you down on the bed as she hovers over you, her lips finding your neck, leaving hickeys and little bites on your sensitive skin, making you gasp and moan as you ran your hand into her hair. „Fuck…you know how to make me weak do you?…“ You whispered close to her ear, sending shivers down her spine as she then pulled back to look into your eyes. „Of course I know what my baby likes…“ She said with a smirk before continuing her work down your chest, starting to play with your breasts which obviously got bigger after having your child, giving her more space to leave hickeys and once she started flicking her tongue over your sensitive nipple, you let out another soft moan.

„I love you…“ You mumble under your breath, chuckling a little bit when her sweet soft kisses up your neck tickled you until she reached for your lips again. „I love you too.“ Jinx said in between soft little pecks on your lips. Your hands move down along her sides, enjoying to feel her body. Your hand reached down to her shaft, gently moving your hand up and down, wanting to make her feel good too. She moaned softly as well now as she felt the pleasure from your hand rubbing her shaft, her hips automatically jerking forward. „Fuck…“ She cursed under her breath. „P-Please rub it against me…“ You begged and of course Jinx won’t deny you. Your hands move back to wrap around her neck as she teased you with the tip first and then rub it between your wet folds, both of you humming softly at the good feeling. „Yes…good girl let me get it nice and wet for you before I fuck you.“

Her words made you feel even more turned on, moaning once she finally moved inside, thrusting her hips back and forth inside of you, making you moan more loudly. Jinx leaning down to shut you up with a kiss. „Shh…baby not so loud you will wake up the kids.“ She mumbled against your lips with a chuckle. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet as she fucked you, her hands reaching for yours intertwining your fingers as she wanted to hold you, your legs wrapping around her waist. Both of you had intense eye contact, looking at each other with so much love and passion as soft moans left both of your lips, your pussy clenching around her cock after a while, making her feel you were about to cum soon. „Is my baby close huh? Good. Cum for me my love.“ She cooed before letting go of your hands, sitting up as she grabbed your hips before pounding inside of you in a fast pace, making you moan out, immediately biting down on your lower lip hard as you noticed you got a little too loud again, shutting yourself up. The view of Jinx pounding into you with her beautiful long blue hair hanging down her chest and a few strands of hair along her face, it was just so sexy it drove you over the edge, making you reach your orgasm as your cunt pulsed around her, legs shaking.

Jinx immediately leaned down again after you ride out your orgasm, kissing you deeply and passionately. „Shh…it’s okay. You did so well..“ She whispered against your lips, you slowly calming down from your high, knowing you still had to get her off. „Hnn…we are not done yet, let me make you cum.“

She pulled out of you, you getting on your knees as you positioned yourself so you were ready to suck her off. Your tongue gently swirling around her tip before taking her cock into your mouth, making her moan and grab your hair as you kept moving, taking her cock deep down your throat as you kept yourself steady by holding her hips. „O-Oh fuck…yes just like that baby…I am so close fuck…“ She said in between her moaning, instinctively moving her hips, accidentally making you choke on her as she finally came as well, releasing her cum inside your mouth. Of course you made sure to swallow it all, smirking once you pulled away and looked up at her as you were panting softly.

„God…I love you so much.“ Jinx said before cupping your cheeks and kissing you deeply.

You both were so in love it was hard to describe into words but your actions already showed enough. Soon you and Jinx made yourself comfortable as you fell asleep in each others arms, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies.

———

Should I make more parts of this Series? Do you like it? 👀

[d0rianw1lde]

Sometimes I wonder if Eddie had ever found another maternal figure.

He’d always been such a mama’s boy. Wayne had the photos (and stories) to prove it. Endless nights of curling up in his mama’s lap while her nails gently scratched at his scalp- She’d always known the quickest way to get him to fall asleep- and endless days of watching her blues records spinning on the player while she took in the cool breeze drifting through their trailer’s screen door on those hot, Tennessee summer days.

But when he’d finally comprehended it all- that she would never come back, that he would never feel her fingers in his hair or smell her fruity perfume waft through the house,- I think he’d held that hole in his heart for so long.

But for a short while, there was someone who filled it- Melissa Buckley, the local librarian.

In such a small town, it’s easy to spot the newbies. It was no different when she’d seen a wild head of curls approaching the desk, peeking up over the tall stack of books with with eyes as wide as saucers and as dark as night that flickered to and fro as it explored the brand new environment.

“‘Scuse me miss?” A quiet voice beckoned, words drenched in a sweet, southern twang. “I’s just- uhm- wonderin’ if you had any Lord’a the rings.”

“Big books for a little kid, dontcha think?” She’d asked after she moved the stack of books to lock eyes with the new boy, all scraped knees and elbows, freckles and twinkly eyes, swimming in an old tee-shirt and held together only by the overalls slung over his slim shoulders. And he cracks a smile- a crooked little gapped-tooth grin.

“Maybe,” He begins, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. “Maybe, but I ain’t ever gonna let that stop me from explorin’ the shire. Uhm- I ain’t got a library card though.” He says quietly. “On account ‘a I just moved here. Can I still read em here?”

And Melissa knows she should tell him the truth- ‘Yes, but remember, people will want to check those books out too’ is the phrase that bumps around in her head. But his earnest grin, and his little accent, and the shy, freckled grin does nothing but kick on that maternal instinct of hers. “Well..” she mutters quietly. “Tell you what..You can read them, and I’ll keep them aside. And when you can, you bring your mom or dad in, and we can get you started.

“..Mighty kind of you, miss, but my mom n’ dad ain’t able to come in. Mama’s passed, and Dad ain’t been home the last few days. Dunno when he’ll be back. ‘Big job’.” He explains.

And that sentence alone breaks her heart- makes her think of her own little girl, who must’ve been the same age as he was, alone. It twists in her chest, it makes her feel a bit sick. And from that moment, even if Eddie didn’t know, she’d vowed to herself to keep an eye on him.

And she did- she’d turn a blind eye when he would curl up on the peeling leather chair in the corner of the fiction section and fall asleep with another thick fantasy book on his lap. She’d set him up in the break-room with a juicebox and graham crackers she’d packed when making Robin’s lunch and listen intently as he whispered about the chapter he’d just finished, and the characters he’d grown to love.

And she wonders how anybody could leave him be. He reminds her so much of her little girl- how he rambles excitedly, how his eyes light up a the mention of a brand new book to read. She wonders how anybody could see this little boy and somehow have nothing but love in their hearts. How anybody could possibly leave him alone.

And Eddie?

Eddie loves the smell of incense, and flowers, and old books on Melissa. He loves giving her a big hug before he leaves for the day. He loves being able to sneak behind the desk and watch her take inventory of the returned books. He loves when she brings him snacks, or reads him the big words he can’t quite figure out. How she encourages him to read to her to pass the time. It ignites his love of storytelling. It ignites his excitement for life.

It’s not his mama. But nothing will ever be his mama. And maybe he won’t be able to put his head in his mama’s lap and let her blues records lull him to sleep.

But resting his head against Melissa’s shoulder and listening to the quiet flipping of pages or her hushed narration was a new kind of comfort. A comfort he’d needed. A comfort he always wonders if his mama sent down just for him.

[pantiesandpamperssissypart2]

You love them when you give birth to them, you love them as you raise them through thick and thin, you love them as they go out into the real world and make their own way.

And...you...love them when...they throw away their life because of a crippling diaper addiction, get divorced and have to move in with a dominant man known as daddy who has feminized your son and turned him into a sissified diaper-wearing faggot.

Those were the thoughts going through Brenda's mind as she wandered out of her bedroom to find her son, well, former son, Cory standing in the kitchen of his master's house getting his daddy's breakfast ready. How could this happen, she wondered, silently watching the Pampers-wearing pansy who had been all-conference in three sports and played college baseball. Were there signs when he was younger that he wanted to be put back into diapers? Did she just miss them? What in the actual fuck?

And yet she did still love her son...daughter...sissy fag...whatever his moniker was now.

"Morning," she said to him, her, it, not wanting to call him, her it by his new sissy name of Popsie. Look at that hair. And the growing breasts. And of course the ever-present diaper. Thick, crinkly, permanently imprisoning him.

"He'll be in them 24/7 for the rest of his life," his master had told Brenda the previous night as she sat on the couch, the master sat on his recliner and Popsie sat sucking a pacifier on the floor at his master's feet, clutching a teddy bear while wearing a T-shirt reading "Pampers Forever. "He'll need them too, believe me. For everything."

Brenda knew that meant poopy and pissy diapers.

"You're welcome to change her anytime, if you feel comfortable," the master had assured her. No way she could do that. Changing her 29-year-old sissy fag of a former son's diapers? Could she? Maybe. Because she did still love him. And wouldn't want him getting a rash.

But now in the morning Brenda felt a tear running down her cheek as she remembered Cory's wife Casey. Such a beautiful girl and soul who had been blindsided when Cory had been outed to her as a diaper fag. The divorced followed quickly. She had found a new man fairly quickly, a real one most likely. And her son too had found a real man. Where would this end?

His master--who had invited Brenda to come stay for the weekend and see how her son now lived--had said eventually he wanted Popsie not speaking any adult words. "Whether I do that through training or surgeries we'll see." Just a blubbering, incontinent, chastised (he'd shown her that too) failure of a son.

But you still had to love them, even through this. Right?

[flowersforvax]

I've read some very good meta on the looming ending of campaign 3 and why it does or doesn't work and- still after all this time my main issue (and I believe the root of others!)  is that we didn't get enough time with Bell's Hells.

Does that sound ridiculous after 120 episodes in the span of three years? Obviously!

But if we look at the in-game time it's been barely four months. We don't know Bell's Hells outside of the main plot and worse they don't know each other.

Between Imogen and Fearne and Orym's connection to the Moon Plot from the start there was very little low-stakes low-level fuckery. No downtime, no long travel, no filler episodes.

Even during high-stakes arcs Vox Machina used to take the time to talk and play and fuck around in the evenings before their long rests. (Cannonball contest in the mansion hot tub anyone?) But they took that initiative because they had already done the bonding and enjoyed spending time with each other.

The Mighty Nein as well! And they had the added bonus of nobody counting on them for anything at first- everything they did they wanted to do. And even when the seeds of their last enemy were planted very early on - they didn't know it would be the endgame. The emotions were high but the stakes were lower. There was no constant pressure to go go go, time's running out!

They got time to grieve. Bell's Hells never got that.

And who knows if the Mighty Nein in their early days would have felt compelled to do the heroics late-game Mighty Nein did! I don't believe so! But they had the time to become characters who would, characters who would make the decision to follow that thread, to put their lives on the line to save the world.

Additionally to the in-game time constraints I think the idea that this third campaign is the CULMINATION OF A TRILOGY put a lot of pressure on the players to always make the Right Choice so they won't ruin Matt's story. That includes both following the narrative to its conclusion whether that made sense for every character or not and- no deviations from that loosely held leash. No "Hey, Matt, nice story you got there, what if we become pirates instead?"

... The first time I really connected with Bell's Hells was during one of their very few night watches (a thing that was a staple in MN bonding time!). I loved when they were goofy, when they turned a break-in into a fake haunting for no reason at all. When they got to be ridiculous and pretend they were livestreaming porn.

My favorite moments of Bell's Hells were the few minutes they as characters got to breathe.

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (14)

The start of adult themes at the end xx

Within the safety of my bed, I decided now would be the best time to write Keira and Lucy’s letter. I didn’t want it to be too graphic, but I wanted them to know the full truth. It took a lot of paper, a lot of tears and a glass of wine, but after an hour they were both finished. 

I sat them in the kitchen table, ready to give it to them tomorrow night. 

Dear Keira, 

You know how hard it is from me to talk about things, and there are things I have been keeping from you. This is the easiest way for me to tell you. Please don’t be mad….

Lucy’s letter was the same. A lot of truth, and potentially filling in the gaps of time. It wasn’t going to be easy to sit there and watch them read it, or answer the questions they had, or even deal with the aftermath. 

The following day went slowly, training went slowly, then recover. Everything was just painfully slow. The thought of the letters, burning a hole in my kitchen table. 

“Mils, are we still good for tonight?” Lucy caught up to me in the carpark. 

“Yeah yeah. Come at six yeah? I’ll order us some dinner.” 

The minute I got home the nerves set in. It was only 3pm so I had time to bed rot. Which is exactly what I did. For two hours and 59 minutes. A knock on my door bought be out of the warmth of my bed. 

“Jesus Christ. I’m coming- oh shit. Is it already 6?” Lucy and Keira were standing in front of my apartment. 

“It is. Are you ok?” Keira’s voice held concern, as did her face. 

“Yeah no everything’s fine. I just lost track of time. Come in. I’ll order dinner.” I ushered them inside. 

The silence was awkward, the letters were still on the dining table. 

“Are you ok?” 

“I- um. I have to give you guys something.” I got up and picked up the letters. “Everything that’s happened is in those letters. Things I have only said out loud a couple of times. You can go into the other rooms if you want. I’m just going to sit here.” I pointed to the dining table, gave them their letters and then walked away. 

Keira opened hers first, after reading the first paragraph, she got up and walked to the other room.

Half way through the food was delivered. I took note of Lucy, sitting on the couch. Staring into space. I didn’t want to disturb her, so I just sat back down. 

Alexia Putellas 

Hey, how’d it go?

Amelia Higgins

Unsure 🫤 

Lucy is on the couch. Not talking

Keira is in the spare room. 

Almost directly after I hit send, I heard Keira come out of the bedroom. I watched her walk towards the front door, put her shoes and jacket on and leave. 

“Keira! Wait!” I yelled out, getting up quickly. Lucy grabbed my arm, pulling me into a tight hug. 

“Let her go. It’s a lot. She just needs some time. Can we talk about the letter? If you don’t want to we can do it a different time?” 

I agreed to answer whatever questions she had. We sat and talked about it for a few hours. Lucy cried, I cried, then she was mad. Not at me but at them, at the situation that forced things to change so desperately. I kept checking my phone to see if Keira had messaged or called. She hadn’t. I was worried, Lucy could sense it. 

“I’ll go check on her ok. I’ll text you once I have. Thank you for telling me, and for letting me ask questions. I’m proud of you, now and forever.” 

“Love you luce.” We hugged again, she kissed my forehead and then off she went. 

3 days. It had been three days since Keira and Lucy came to my apartment. 3 days since Keira left. 3 days since Lucy texted me and told me Keira was fine, she just needed some time to comprehend everything. I was starting to lose it. 

“I don’t understand Ale. I wrote the letter, I gave it to her, and she just left? She won’t talk to me or even look at me. What more can I do?” 

“Give her time amor. She will come to you when she’s ready.” 

“Time? Time! How much more fucking time do I need to give her! This is ridiculous.” My voice was very loud, carrying through the hallway and reaching a hiding Keira. 

“Bebé, come here.” Alexia pulled me into her chest, kissing my temple and holding me tight. “How about we go to the beach tonight? Take some dinner and have a picnic?” She moved her hands to cup my face. I nodded as best I could. 

“Perfect, I’ll pick you up at 7.” She went to walk away but I pulled her back, pouting at her. She gave me a quick kiss and then dragged me along. 

Despite my best efforts, Keira continued to ignore me. Everyone started to notice, Lucy kept sending me sympathetic looks through training. It was pure hell. 

“Kei wait!” She continued to ignore me. “How much longer are you going to ignore me! I didn’t do anything wrong!” 

“You kept this all from me! For four years Amelia! Four fucking years. Then you tell Alexia first. Not me or Leah or even Lucy. You told Alexia! How is that fair?” The lock room went quiet. 

“Keira, come on. That’s not fair.” Lucy was trying hard to defuse the situation. 

“I am so sorry Keira that I didn’t tell you first. I’m sorry for not wanting to tell you the traumatic and disgusting details of what happened. But I did it to protect you. To protect this friendship.” 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” She was crying but also getting angrier. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

I looked around, the locker room was slowly thinning out but the captains, Mapi and Ingrid and Lucy remained. 

“Why would I? It doesn’t change anything Keira.” 

“I could’ve helped! You left and I could’ve helped you!” 

“Keira listen to me. You couldn’t help me. Not you, Leah, Lucy or anyone. I needed to figure shit out. How to live with what happened that night. I am sorry that I hurt you, truly I am, but telling you then would’ve only made you worry more or hurt you more.” 

She moved towards me, wrapping her arms around me and mumbling sorrys over and over again. It took a while for both of us to calm down. The locker room was empty by the time we left. Lucy and alexia were standing by their cars, wanting to ensure we were okay. 

Keira and Lucy left after a quick chat. Alexia and I milled around for a bit discussing our plans for tonight. We went our separate ways. 

Once I was home, I threw my dirty laundry in the washing machine, filled up the dishwasher and jumped in the shower. I washed my hair, shaved every single part of me that I could think of and then moisturised. 

Tonight was the night. I was sure of it. I sifted through my new lingerie, deciding on an orange set that looked amazing against my tanned skin. The thought of Alexia undressing me was exciting. 

Once I was completely satisfied with my outfit, I sat on the couch and waited. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long because alexia buzzed on the intercoms. I got up and rushed to let her in, wanting to skip the whole dinner thing and go straight to dessert. 

“Dios mío, you look amazing.” She looked me up and down, taking a particularly long look at my legs that were barely hidden from my skirt. 

“Mm, so do you, let me get my keys?” I watched as she licked her lips and thrusted flowers into my hands. 

“For you!” She followed me inside as I got a vase for the flowers, I could fell her gaze on me as I moved around. 

“Okay, we need to leave now or we won’t leave at all.” There was a sense of urgency in her voice. As I looked up I noticed her eyes were completely black, she wanted this as much as I did. 

“Or we could just raincheck the beach? Stay in for the night?” I winked at her, before walking towards her, wrapping my arms around her waist. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes Alexia. Please. I will beg you.” Something switch in her. 

“Then beg.” Cockiness, eagerness, excitement. 

“Please fuck me. Right here, right now.” 

Her lips collided with mine. Hard. It was messy, a mix of teeth and tongue, fighting for dominance. I moaned as my back hit the bench, her hands coming to rest on my ass. 

Her lips made their way down my neck, sucking marks that I’d have to deal with later. 

“Up” she said as she grabbed my thighs. She helped me get onto the counter. She took a step back, staring at me. I felt small under her intense gaze. 

“We can stop if you want?” I didn’t want to stop, but I wanted her to be aware that we could if she wanted to. 

“I don’t want to. I just want to see how hot you are before I destroy you.” 

————————————————————————

I moaned as her hands slowly made their way up my thighs. Her mouth attacking my neck and collarbone, slowly making their way down to the collar of my shirt. 

“Can I take this off?” She stopped, looking at me. 

“Please.” It came out more as a moan than anything. 

“Holy fuck. You’re so perfect.” 

[spacegyaru]

cw: shidou ryusei x afab! reader. all characters are aged 21+ (you and shidou are already 25 atp). this is the second part of this! do not read it unless you have read the previous part! 💗🤭

~ there is a bit of angst here! also, i really tried to keep shidou and character and read loads of analysis for this huhu so good luck to me!! i hope you guys would like it as much as you loved the first part! + reader is a nurse and toxic shidou! 😌 i tried to keep it realistic guys, we all known it's not going to be all rainbow and skittles with shidou in it.

word count: 2k+

fast forward to five years later. five fucking years. you don't know how you made it that far, but somehow, you managed to get yourself out of that hellhole.

well, after finding out that you were pregnant, your initial reaction was to tell your parents about it. you were young and they still paid for your college fees that time, so you know that they have the right to at least hear from you.

as you expected, your parents did not have the best reactions. your dad scolded you— even slapped you, and your mom called you a slut, then they started fighting and blaming each other on whose fault is this.

suddenly, the fact that you're pregnant is no longer about you and the baby, but it's about blaming who was the worse parent between the both of them. your dad blamed your mom for caring too much about her appearance and not paying attention to you, while your mom blamed your dad for not protecting you enough and being around. in actuality, both are horrible.

you swore you'll never want your kid to grow up in this kind of hell you were raised in. that's why you felt so much joy when your parents agreed to help you but they asked you to move out to your grandparents’ house in a far away rural area so people wouldn't see you ‘blowing up like a balloon’ (as what your mom said) and ‘bringing shame to the family’.

luckily, compared to your parents, your grandparents are good people. they comforted you and made sure that you're well-fed during your pregnancy.

you ended up giving birth to a little girl, which you named miyu. she was born with your hair color, pink orbs, and tanned skin. her nose and eye shape weren't yours. you didn't even want to think about who does it remind you of.

it wasn't easy to have her either. miyu was a handful baby and post-partum depression did not sit well with you. but luckily, your grandmother is around.

shortly after that, you decided to go back to college while working part-time. all while miyu was growing. if you didn't have your grandparents, you surely wouldn't be able to survive. they were a huge help to your studies, and in taking care of miyu.

after your studies, you went back to the city to look for a better job as a registered nurse around tokyo. you thanked your grandparents and took your daughter with you.

about shidou… well, you've seen him on TV and he's doing well, winning lots of football games, and even having some dating rumours. you hated every inch of him. you hated how he act all smug and cocky on TV. you hated how he never even tried to contact you after that night. you hated how he did well while you struggled to survive.

the only comfort that you had was miyu's smile. she is a very cheerful child. she's very friendly towards people and she's a social butterfly. the first time you took her to the nursery, she became friends with everyone.

anyway, you're working as a registered nurse around tokyo's biggest hospital. luckily, miyu's preschool is nearby. but with no one to watch over, you would fetch her during your free time and bring her back to your workplace.

“y/n, doctor nishimura needs your assistance in his office in third floor.” your co-worker said and you rushed going there.

when you arrived, you were asked to call the patients’ name in the waiting area and assist in medical check-ups, like taking their height, weight, blood pressure, and etc. it was all good. you were doing just fine. until you saw who the last patient is.

“sh-shidou r-ryusei…” there was a light stutter in your voice as you turned pale, an expression of shock written on your face. it seemed that he's here for some athlete medical checkup or whatever it's called.

the moment shidou saw you, he did not recognize you at first. but seeing how awkward you were while taking his blood pressure, he finally recognized who you are.

“wait, aren't you y/n?” shidou asked then started talking to you like a casual friend who's trying to catch up. you didn't respond well. he told you that he'll be in a 3-month long vacation after winning a huge match in france.

when you were left alone with him as you were asked to assist him althroughout, like going to the cashier and settling payment, (since the doctor said that other patients might harass him since he's famous), he fucking dropped the bomb that made you erupt.

“if you're interested, we could hang out together while i'm in tokyo. like the old times.” he said in a smug voice, obviously hinting to something sexual.

you stopped while walking, looking down. shidou, who only continued, wondered as you stayed that way for seconds. shidou looked at you curiously. he slowly approached you, but your hand seemed to have another plans, giving him a slap on the cheek.

shidou looked at you shocked for seconds while holding his cheek, then his face changed into smirk before he told you “come on, you can't be mad over something that happened years ago, right? what happened to the good girl y/n?” he gave you a menacing look.

but before you could say anything, a small high-pitched voice reached out from your behind. “mommy, i'm hungry!”

seeing your daughter, you left shidou and approached your daughter, carrying her in your arms, telling her how you'd get her some cookies from the pantry.

as your carried miyu in your arms while walking away, shidou could not help it but to stare back at the pink orbs of the little girl which sparked curiosity. that, combined with the little girl's tanned skin and nose— shidou already fucking knew who that little girl is.

after that day, shidou would visit you during working hours. he would go there, trying to ask you to hangout with him, with that permanent smug look that you hated the most.

he did this for the whole afternoon. luckily, today, you were able to hire a babysitter for miyu because you expected to work overtime. you doubt he would leave you alone, not giving you some time to fetch her.

even after your shift, shidou was still there. you got fed up and asked him why the hell is he bothering you during work hours, even telling him to get lost.

but shidou still seemed to be unfazed by you freaking out. instead of saying anything, he just said “awww, don't you want me to get to know your little girl too? are you gonna hog her all by yourself?”

that's when you lost it. you dragged him in the hospital's parking lot and asked him what he truly wants.

shidou asks you to enter his car so you guys could ‘talk more’. thinking that he's just scared of the paparazzis, you agreed to talk with him inside his car with tinted glasses.

when you both sat on the front seats, he waited for you to speak first and you broke the silence.

you told him that you found out that you were pregnant after that night and you didn't get to tell him because he blocked you everywhere on social media. you're mad because he promised that he's going to be with you after but he left without saying anything.

shidou basically just gaslit you and told you that you never tried hard enough like contacting him thru his emails. he even had the guts to victimize himself and say that he felt hurt you never told him.

“just shows how my little y/n won't trust me enough to look after our poor little baby and that makes me sad.”

you rolled your eyes and attempted to get off the car, when shidou held your hand, trying to stop you. you decided to stop and take one last look at him. he holds your hand tighter, but not in a hurting way.

“oh hell nah, y/n. don't do this to me, i'm a changed man, ya know?”

you told shidou that if he's planning to ghost you again, he's never gonna get to know miyu. he is not going to be her first heartbreak. you made it clear to him.

shidou was like, “i know i didn't keep my promise to you, but i'm not a monster to do the same thing to her.”

you still didn't believe him, until he told you that he wants to show how serious he is. “give me your bank account number” but you didn't want to give it to him because of your pride.

but then he started saying “you sure you don't want my help? you were eating a one-dollar ramen during lunchtime. how can you even give what's best if you can't even give yourself anything?”and he said it in a taunting voice. oh boi, all these years and he's still so good at provoking people.

so you ended up giving your bank account details. you received a notification on your phone saying that you just received 7 million yen— about 50k dollars. you looked at him in disbelief.

“also, don't let her wear those ugly floral dresses. buy her something else.”

you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ altho you didn't really wanna say that but you know you needed to.

both of you agreed on a co-parenting situation. for visits, he would visit your daughter in your apartment every weekend. you wanted those instead of public because paparazzis may spot your daughter. she doesn't deserve that kind of toxicity yet.

first time visiting your apartment, shidou basically roasted your house and bought you a whole apartment just two floors way from his own apartment. “and you said you didn't need my help? i don't think my baby should even live in this place.” you moved in that place a month after he first met miyu.

the first time they met each other… you hate to admit it, but they got along really well. both of them weren't too emotional about it. it was just like two best friends meeting each other and having a lighthearted conversation. you observed miyu and it seems that she's at ease around shidou.

“miyu, that's your dad.” oh boi she ran so fast in his arms and hugged him. luckily, he caught her. since then, the both of them have been talking. miyu liked calling shidou his ‘daddy’. and honestly, shidou was proud of it.

shidou was the fun dad. you'll say ‘no ice cream’ and he's gonna bring your daughter ice cream while you're not around. when you say that she shouldn't eat sweets after brushing her teeth, shidou would just tell her to have some then she can brush her teeth after. so in no time, miyu became a ‘daddy's girl’ while you were the ‘no-fun and strict’ mom (as said by shidou when miyu's not around).

the whole co-parenting setup was okay. but shidou would make advances towards you whenever miyu is not looking. he would flirt with you, saying how your genes looked great when mixed together and sometimes, he would bring up that miyu needs a playmate. you would only roll your eyes at him, saying that you'd rather die than to repeat the same mistake.

it was all peaceful. you were starting to put your trust in him— until you saw a selfie of shidou and miyu all over the news and headlines. it seemed that he posted her on his insta, without your consent.

you did not like that one bit. both of you told each other that if he wants to something like this, he needs to talk to you first. again, shidou forgot to keep up with his word.

with an angry tone, you immediately called shidou and asked to talk to him in private. he asked you to come over to his apartment— and you were hesitant at first, but you agreed. you decided to drop off miyu at the local daycare center, just so the both of you could talk it out.

[holyguardian]

Aerith dipped her head with a quiet exhale, smiling to herself when Somnus admitted Nikolaos would have laughed 'about us'. They had been quite a lively pair, hadn't they?

Part of her wondered if she would have met the soldier under different circumstances. Had this tragedy not unfolded... would she ever have learned his name? Would he tease and laugh with Somnus about being banished to his room for those days, had he been given the opportunity?

It was an odd feeling. To have missed the chance of knowing someone in life, and to be left wondering 'what if'.

At first it was reflexive of her, taking what was offered by Somnus. Though she found herself feeling... flattered. She wasn't hungry and he still handed her more, a gentle little action. 'I care about you. I want you to be healthy. Please eat.' It felt like she had a lifetime of experiencing those sentiments, it was something that came from a place of love.

She tried not to read too much into it.

"I hope it's enough." Aerith mused, for all the beauty that Somnus saw in it, she could only see the empty spaces. It felt like she was supposed to fill in everything with details but the art of Lucis did not need clutter to stand out.

Her attention was pulled away with a quiet tone of question. The trumpet sounded fit for the occasion, and her eyes sought Somnus. It wasn't to call them immediately to gather. It was the first warning to prepare.

"So, it's almost time." As much as she tried to hide it, her tone betrayed her. She was nervous. It was an important ceremony and she had little preparation for it. Her brother might wail louder than the trumpet's call. The family may feel tense about their presence. And she felt in over her head, navigating new territory.

That was when Somnus took her hands. Guided her. It was such a simple act, his hands cleaning hers, and yet she felt disarmed by it. Like she couldn't quite catch her breath. Her eyes had to fall to the water, watching the water slowly become muddied by colour as he meticulously massaged her fingers clean and immaculate.

His hands felt strong, but in this they were so soft and controlled. Why was she thinking so deeply about this?

"I don't want to let anyone down." she admitted, her voice soft. There was another beat of silence before she spoke again. "What should I wear? I don't know if there is a custom about how people dress, I would wear our official colours of green and gold but..." maybe she was too in her head. Maybe she should let the Prince get an answer in.

Lifting her hands from the water, Aerith shook small droplets back into the bowl and exhaled a calming breath. She was grateful he hadn't whisked away. For a time, she felt selfish, as though she had been keeping him... but Somnus remained even when his duty had been 'done'.

It turned out she needed some gentle support when diving headfirst into something that was new. "Are there any chants or prayers I should know of?"

The situation ha dbeen tragic and sullen. And yet they also had their moments of light with each other. Little bouts of banter, looks, that closeness – still. When Queen Ifalan showed up suddenly, Somnus felt like they had been caught doing something far more scandalous. His panicked quick-spoken explanation of the situation somehow was taken by the Queen. With a certain look, but still.

The Lucian Prince was sure that this would haunt him for a while.

At least he could change out of the uniform that now felt scorching hot on his skin after the Queen had seen him in it soon. The change back into a simple toga was quick - and yet Somnus had to add his blue shawl and the signature royal decorum. This was an official evening after all.

Aerith’s fears about the urn’s fate were met with a little shake of his head and amused pull of one corner of his mouth.

“He really would have laughed about that – and about us. But no. That won’t happen. The urn will be secure. Have one of the servants carry it.”

Because surely it would be too public if the Princess was carrying an urn openly for the entire ceremony. A linen cloth to keep the piece of gratitude safe and hidden for now would serve well.

Looking over her shoulder – and sometimes urging her to eat by simply handing her grapes and pieces of fruit, so she would not outright ignore them – Somnus watched her finishing it.

It was a piece fit to stand in the libraries and halls of treasures of the castle. It was delicate, fine brush strokes detailing armour, wreath, temple, intertwined vines and bringing a new breath to the otherwise very bold and direct strokes Lucis used in its art.

“It’s beautiful”, he whispered quietly, eyeing specifically the soldier. He resembled Nikolaos. It was perfect. Such a wonderful piece and yet it was for such a sad occasion.

A faint noise travelled through the cooler air coming with the impending evening. It was a trumpet, calling out in a long almost wailing noise.

Somnus straightened his back and gazed towards the windows.

“That is the first call. Six more will follow to announce the beginning in an hour. It calls the people to gather.”

So, it would begin. Torches and fire bowls starting to light a winding path up to the hills, where priests and priestesses gathered first around the family and closest friends. Their chanting would follow the trumpets soon when the night started to lay over Lucis like a dark blanket.

His eyes travelled to Aerith again. She would need help. And as much as she had taken him around on their first evening to show that a festive was not that bad, now it was his duty to help her navigate this night.

Stepping towards her, he gently took the urn from her. Just placing it to the side. He would not force it out of her hands, should she actually want to carry it all the way. But she needed guidance. Like how he instead took her hands in his and guided her to follow a few steps back. To then dip her hands into one of the shallow bronze bowls of water. The warmth and oil helping him to brush and massage the paint off of her fingers, though he took his time with each one.

“Don’t be afraid of what is to come. I will be with you every step.”

[bippot]

A Real Headscratcher

Story Summary -> The two BAU younglings clearly feel something other than friendship towards each other. Despite how much Morgan and the rest of the team tease them, the dynamic duo progress at their own adorable speed.

Tags -> Idiots in Love, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Drinking, Awkward Flirting, Touch-Starved, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug

Would you prefer to read this on AO3? Click here!

Over the years, Spencer had grown more accustomed to people touching him. He still didn't like it. Still, he would prefer if he was left untouched. But if someone held their hand out for a handshake, he no longer declined the offer. He did rigorously wash and sanitise his hands after every encounter with a new person, though.

The rest of the team had begun to notice this new, more relaxed Reid. Coincidentally, this change had occurred a few weeks after a certain Agent Y/N had joined the BAU — the young woman, whom Derek had affectionately begun calling her 'Peanut' since she had dethroned Reid as the youngest of the squad and had brought a peanut butter sandwich for lunch on her first day.

Together, the two youngsters had become fast friends. The new arrival quickly took a liking to Spencer's quirky personality and was the only person who allowed him to ramble on and on for as long as he wanted, about whatever he wanted, without interrupting or changing any of his train of thought. Whereas Spencer was particularly fond of the way Y/N always gave him a helping hand socially whenever he needed it. He knew he wasn't the easiest to interact with sometimes, but with Y/N's advice and guidance, he was getting better.

After a particularly disgusting case, the team were on the jet and on their way back to Virginia, and they were all ready for a long weekend. The 'dynamic duo', as they'd become known, sat next to each other, both quiet and absorbed in their own thoughts. "Hey, look at Pretty Boy over there," Morgan whispered to Prentiss, nudging the arms she was holding her drink in and causing it to splash down her shirt. He snorted but was quick to apologise, "Sorry, we can have a wet t-shirt contest later if you want payback."

Emily brushed her hand down the wet patch as she glanced in the direction of the duo to find Reid pretending to read. His book was firmly in his hands, yes, yet his eyes flitted between the page and the woman beside him, who was busy watching the clouds outside the window. Spencer's eyes were practically hearts behind his glasses as he watched her, his mouth slightly open and his tongue poking between his lips, and he looked utterly fascinated, completely enamoured. 

"Oh, that's adorable," she smirked, looking sideways and catching Morgan's eye with a knowing smirk.

Y/N finally took her focus off the window, realising she was being stared at by the younger brunette. "What?" she questioned curiously, giving Spencer what she hoped was a questioning smile. Reid suddenly realised how creepy he must appear, staring at her like that, so he tried to pretend that he wasn't doing anything weird but couldn't help smiling an incredibly goofy smile in return.

"You look tired, Y/N."

"That's no way to talk to a lady, Reid," Morgan interrupted, raising an eyebrow with a playful smile playing on his lips. "You still look beautiful, Peanut."

Spencer dipped his head to hide the frown that appeared due to Morgan's comment, and his fingers gripped onto his book a little tighter, which was obviously noticed by the profilers opposite. Even Hotch let out a quiet huff of something that sounded like laughter from where he was sitting, having turned around to see the display. "I didn't mean it like... I, uh, I just..." Spencer trailed off, trying to come up with something to say. He looked across to gauge Y/N's reaction in the hopes she'd help him out and not embarrass him further.

Instead, he found himself looking straight into her bright eyes, which had crinkled at the corners as she giggled at him. Her hand made its way to his thigh and gently squeezed in an effort to comfort the confused boy, who had seemed to turn into a blushing, flustered mess in front of her, and her smile grew impossibly bigger at his bashfulness. "I've been called worse, doctor. Don't sweat it."

With that, she went back to watching the passing scenery, while Spencer and Derek stared at each other, having a conversation with only their facial expressions. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Morgan was trying to urge Reid to do. It seemed that Reid was reluctant to go through with it. He looked across at Y/N and bit his lip nervously before shaking his head.

For the next hour or two, they all tried to get some shut eye, some more successful in their attempts than others. Prentiss was snoozing with her cheek squished against the glass. Hotch had spread himself out and had a sleep mask on, so who knows if he was truly sleeping or not? JJ had fallen asleep a couple of minutes into the plane ride; she'd called Henry, and then boom, out like a light. Rossi had brought along a neck pillow and draped it around his head, apparently content to sleep away the remainder of the flight with the occasional snore escaping his slightly opened mouth.

Derek, well, he had his eyes closed, but he had yet to drift off. He was too busy listening to the dynamic duo as they were in the throes of a passionate conversation, both of them leaning forward intently towards one another, their heads close together, and their voices hushed. 

"I don't know what to tell you, Spencer, but I know - with one hundred percent certainty - that I'd prefer to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer over Star Trek any day."

"You've got to be kidding me?" Reid said, almost shocked that she could ever consider such a thing. "Star Trek has endured for over fifty years. It transcends generations, and it's still going strong!"

"Yeah, well, have you even watched Buffy?"

"No." Spencer narrowed his eyes. "Have you ever seen Star Trek?"

"No." He opened his mouth and seemed as if he was about to continue, but gave up with a laugh and shook his head in amusement. Y/N grinned at him and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, as if she were assuring him that this argument meant nothing and it was just for fun.

"If you wanted to, and I, uh, u-understand if not, I'd be willing to endure a Buffy marathon with you. Any time." 

His voice faltered slightly, and for a moment, it was like he forgot how to breathe. It felt like his heart stopped beating momentarily. For a second, he could feel his stomach churning uncomfortably, but the sensation vanished quickly, and Y/N nodded her head in reply, unable to contain her grin at his response.

"You can try and turn me into a Trekkie if you'd like."

"Oh! Okay, yeah, I'd like to. W-we can arrange that. We can sort that out."

They soon settled down enough to fall asleep, heads resting against each other's, and failed to notice Morgan whisper, "My man," under his breath. He peeked out of one eye to catch a glimpse of the good doctor and his soon-to-be sweetheart. Prentiss was right; he thought they were adorable. And Derek had half a mind to take a picture and send it to Garcia.

After that, it was impossible not to notice how comfortable Spencer had gotten while interacting with Y/N in every way. The team was unsure whether the pair had actually gotten together yet, but they knew it was only a matter of time. The boy wonder often rambled about how they went to the library, the cinema, or had those TV watchalongs. And it seemed that the pair were so close that they'd developed their own sort of language, even if they were unaware of its existence.

"Hey Spock," Y/N greeted as she entered Morgan's hotel room, where they'd been going over the case for hours, her hands coming down on his shoulders to gently massage them. He'd positioned himself right on the edge of the bed, so Y/N took the opportunity to kneel behind him and rest her chin on his shoulder. 

In this particular case, Reid had to read through thousands of pages of a psychopath's very descriptive diary, which was filled with gruesome descriptions and diagrams of torture. The rest of the squad had gone to dinner, yet Spencer had waved them off. They knew there was only one person who had a chance at changing his mind. "Take a break?" But instead of stopping like she asked him to, he continued reading until she pulled the book out of his hands. "...Please."

"Fine," he replied with a sigh. "The unsub-"

"A total break. No work talk."

"But -" She gave him a look, one that was stern but soft at the same time, and he gave in. 

As she went to pull away, she noticed that his hair was a complete mess. "Did you brush your hair today? Or at any point this week?" she teased while she reached up to brush through his thick locks with careful fingers, untangling the knots she spotted with ease.

"We were called out pretty early this morning, Y/N," he reminded her with a playful inflection in his voice. 

He tried to say something else, but it died in his throat as her fingers worked through his hair, massaging his scalp in such a way that he was turning to mush in her hands. His body relaxed, and his head lolled back against her palm. When she finished detangling his hair, she continued to further relax him with her touch until he let out a borderline embarrassing whine. "Ah! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make that noise," he told her, sitting bolt upright in embarrassment. His ears were bright red as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, as if he could somehow rub away the blush that had appeared on his face.

Frankly, Y/N was proud that she could pull a noise like that from him. There was no doubting that it would be imprinted on her brain forever since it was so cute. She grinned in triumph while she tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. "No need to apologise, Spence." To show how little of an apology she needed, she resumed working her fingers through his hair again, this time more forcefully and with a little more pressure, causing Reid to once again moan softly at her pleasurable treatment. They stayed like that for a while, neither really caring that much about how fast the time was flying by.

Just as another noise fell from Reid's lips, Morgan re-entered his hotel room and stood there for a few seconds in stunned silence when his eyes landed on the embrace his two friends were sharing on his bed. "Well, well, well," he started, making them jump out of their skin. "I'd prefer it if you use your own room to canoodle, kids."

Their faces flushed as they scrambled apart from each other as though they had been caught doing something forbidden. "Uh... we weren't... we... we...uh..." Reid stuttered incoherently, completely failing to find the words to explain themselves without sounding like an absolute idiot.

"Pretty boy, I'm just teasing you," Morgan told him, holding his hands up in surrender as he walked closer to the bed, his gaze shifting between Spencer and Y/N. "Although I'm planning to get at least two hours of sleep, either you guys leave or you give me the keys to your room, your choice."

Looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes, the pair made a silent agreement and shuffled out of Morgan's room quietly. As soon as they were in the hallway outside, both of them burst out laughing, both at the awkwardness of their situation and at how they were probably going to endure even more teasing.

They began to slowly walk in the direction of their rooms, both of them swinging their hands and almost knocking them into each other with every step they took. Their laughter faded away and was replaced with nervous smiles, the awkwardness still lingering in the air. It was only when they neared Y/N's door that one of them spoke up. "Are you hungry? We both skipped out on lunch earlier, so..." The brunette asked suddenly, looking down at her with hopeful eyes.

"You want to go and grab food?" 

"Maybe we could order to the hotel? I haven't eaten anything all day except for breakfast."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a genius?"

"Funny enough, they have."

Soon enough, they were huddled on Y/N's bed, surrounded by Chinese takeaway boxes, and watching cable TV as they ate, talking animatedly as they enjoyed each other's company. By the time they'd finished their meal, they hadn't managed to wipe the grins off of their faces once. And neither of them were willing to move an inch from their spot. They were too cosy, too warm, and too full from eating, so as the night turned into morning, the pair were once again side by side as they drifted off.

From that mission on, whenever Reid needed calming down, Y/N knew exactly what to do. And after getting used to it, Spencer began to ask beforehand. Not vocally, no. Whenever he wanted her to play with his hair, he'd simply and subtly tap her thigh, which was his way to silently plead for the girl to pet him. Obviously, their coworkers had witnessed many strange things over their years as profilers, but none of them expected to ever see the touch-phobic Dr. Reid urge someone to initiate physical contact with him. It was a rather shocking revelation for everyone who knew him.

It all came to a head one evening when the squad convinced Reid to join them for one of their after-work bar nights. Morgan had heavily stressed the fact that Y/N would be there and she would want to see him, and as much as the doctor didn't particularly enjoy these nights out, he was swayed by the suggestion anyway. The only problem was that Y/N had caught the attention of the recently hired bartender there, who proceeded to flirt with her nonstop. Reid, due to his lingering second thoughts about the outing, was last to arrive and, as soon as he walked through the door, was already regretting his decision.

"Doctor, you're late," JJ teased, nudging him with her shoulder and gesturing towards the bar. "It looks like Y/N's still ordering our round if you want to go and add yours onto the tab. Rossi is paying, so go wild."

"Have you ever known me 'go wild', JJ?" Reid asked dryly as he headed in the direction of the bar.

"Tonight could be your night. You never know, Spence."

That sentiment rang through Reid's head as he approached the other half of his duo. Y/N was smiling, but as he got closer, Spencer noticed a certain fakeness to it, almost as if the girl was forcing it. A bolt of something sweet went straight to that big brain of his as he realised she never looked at him like that. All of her smiles had been genuine when they'd been directed at him. And that was proved when Y/N caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye and broke out into a real, goofy grin that caused him to do the same. "I was wondering if you were ever going to turn up," she greeted him cheerfully, holding her hand out for him to hold. He took it, and to his delight, she pulled him in for a hug.

She was a little wobbly and a lot more giggly than usual, so it was obvious she'd had a few drinks. Judging by the glare he was getting from the bartender, Spencer assumed she'd got those drinks for free as a way to sway her affections. There was a flush to her cheeks as she looked up at him, and his heart skipped a beat when he caught a glimmer of something in her eyes. "Do you want a drink, doctor?" she asked playfully, tilting her head to the side and giving him a coy look. "They do mocktails if you'd like something fancy."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll take a mocktail."

"I'll get them," Y/N volunteered, squeezing his hand before releasing it and waving the bartender over. The guy was quick to try flirting with her again, despite the fact that Spencer was right there and still had his arm wrapped around her. 

Did the bartender not see him as a romantic threat? How was that possible when he was literally the one who was closer to her in every sense of the word? Was it so unlikely? Reid's brain was working overtime, desperately trying to come up with a solution to this issue as he stood there, helpless, watching the bartender make a very flamboyant and fruity-looking mocktail.

"Are you wearing a new cologne, Doctor?" Y/N questioned, a hint of flirtiness in her tone. It was just enough to cause Spencer to very loudly gulp and avert his gaze. Accidentally, he looked directly at Morgan, who gave him (what Derek intended to be) an encouraging wink. Whether it was was another thing.

"Uh, y-yes," Reid managed to squeak out before mentally kicking himself for being so obvious.

"It smells nice. You smell nice."

"I do?"

"You do."

Before Reid could thank her, the bartender placed the drink right between them, and that disturbed any response he would eventually mumble out. Instead, he hurried to take a sip as an excuse to not say anything other than a hum of approval. It was delicious - he had to admit that. Maybe he should branch out from extremely sweet coffee once in a while.

Throughout the night, Reid stayed glued to his friend's side and did his best to ignore the knowing looks the other members of the squad were giving him. Y/N kept him on his toes with the amount of times she caused a blush to appear and his IQ to drop by twenty each time she made a playful comment. By the time they left the bar, he was a total mess. And although Y/N had only been a little tipsy - it seemed that she only needed a little bit of liquid confidence to act upon her feelings - he was determined to make sure she got home. Working a job that constantly forced him to see the worst of humanity, well, he had an obligation to ensure nothing bad happened. Safety first, after all. Getting more time to hang out with her was a close second, though.

The pair made it back to Y/N's apartment in no time. It was a relatively short walk, and the streets were quiet at that late hour. The night air was warm and humid, and the moon was full, giving their journey an ethereal glow. Neither of them said much. They didn't need to. There was no need to break the comfortable silence as they made their way closer to her door.

Spencer let Y/N lead them up to her apartment door. He even allowed her to hide behind him when one of her drunk neighbours stumbled into the elevator they were in because she didn’t want to interact with him. She stood behind him, her hands on his hips and her forehead resting against the back of his shoulder. It was only when the drunkard - who'd not paid attention to Spencer at all - left that Y/N came out from hiding. "Sorry, Spock. Last time, he spoke to me about buying a timeshare for a full hour, and I couldn't go through that again," she apologised sheepishly.

"I hide to avoid talking to my neighbour almost every day. It's a small price to pay for peace and quiet."

"That doesn't surprise me."

Once they were inside her apartment, Y/N immediately flopped face down on her couch. Spencer plopped down beside her feet and, without prompting, untied her laces and slipped her shoes off. He then did the same with his shoes, leaning back and getting comfortable.

"You're so sweet to me, Spock," Y/N muttered, lifting her face from the pillow she'd squished herself into to look at him. What she was greeted with was adorable. Reid had his hands intertwined behind his head, sitting criss-cross applesauce with his eyes closed. Because of how he looked and how sweet he was, Y/N got to her knees and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. His eyes snapped open, and his jaw dropped so he was gaping at her, blinking slowly.

"W-what was that for?"

"For being you."

"Oh. Okay." He tried to hide his confusion, but the look on his face was priceless. For all his intellect, he couldn't work out what the hell she meant. So, to give him a helping hand, she gently placed her hooked forefinger under his chin and tilted his head up so he'd meet her eye.

"For making me happy," she whispered, pressing her lips to his in such a way that Reid was so startled by her display of affection that he forgot to respond for a moment until his hands came up to either side of her face and deepened the kiss.

That was all it took to send him plummeting into the depths of lust-induced oblivion. Spencer was acting purely on impulse as he pushed Y/N down on the couch and pressed his body into hers, trapping her underneath him with his knee between her legs. Breaking apart, he let out a breath and leaned his forehead against hers. "Morgan is going to be so smug," Reid joked. "When he finds out I kissed you."

"You kissed me?" Y/N repeated jovially, winding her arms around his neck. "Is your memory different from mine, Mr. Eidetic?"

"I'll just tell him about our second kiss."

Before she registered how smooth that had been, Spencer's lips were back on hers. He was eager and hungry and intent on making her dizzy. He held nothing back, and neither did she. Their lips collided in a storm of moans and groans, tongues tangling and fingers clutching at each other. Reid moved away for a moment to take off his tie and undo the first few buttons of his shirt. "It's getting a little warm in here," he muttered, finally realising his skin was on fire thanks to her touch.

With this new stretch of skin uncovered, Y/N couldn't help herself and attached her lips to his newly uncovered collarbone, kissing up his neck to his ear and biting down gently on the lobe. He made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and he let his head fall back so he was looking at the ceiling. Her fingers toyed with the remaining buttons of his shirt, teasing them open to get access to the skin underneath. Reid kept his eyes closed as she continued her exploration, enthralled by the attention she lavished upon him. Eventually, she was able to slide the fully opened shirt off his shoulders and run her palms down his sides until she reached his belt. 

"Spence? Do you want to continue?" Y/N asked, her voice breathless yet understanding. He beamed at her with eyes as wide as a bush baby. Reid could barely form a coherent thought but clearly still held some grasp of his gentlemanly nature. 

"Let me take you on a date first. Please? There's a few showings of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari at the Palace this month. I've been trying to gather the courage to ask you for seven months, eighteen days and -" He checked his watch. "Ten hours and thirty-three days."

"You're adorable, Doctor Reid." She nudged the tip of her nose against his and let her hand trail up to rest in his head, her thumb drawing soothing lines against his pink cheek. "I'd love to."

Their glee was evident. It was palpable. Spencer placed his hand on her thigh, just as he'd become so accustomed to over the months, and expected her usual response. Yet, when Y/N tangled her fingers in his hair and lightly tugged his chin up, her eyes focused on his lips, he wasn't disappointed with the change of routine. Quite the opposite.

"Do I have to wait until our date to kiss you again, or am I allowed to do it now?" She coquetted, raising and wiggling her eyebrows in a teasing manner. 

His response was instant. "Now!" He cleared his throat, afraid that he'd been too eager. "I mean, now if you want. Yeah, uh...now." She peppered his cheeks with sloppy, wet kisses until he was breathless and desperate for a proper smooch. It didn't take long before he was guiding her into position to get what he wanted. 

It was safe to assume that their very intelligent, very observant colleagues were going to be difficult to hide from. Especially when, in all the excitement, Spencer left a hickey on Y/N's collarbone. One that was just a few centimetres too big to be hidden by her work shirt.

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[dinogoofymutated]

Okay, since requests are open, I wanted to ask for something, especially after seeing that you are comfortable with most male characters.

I present:

Scott Summers x fem!reader who's just a little too rebelious and annoying for his taste but he still can't help but love her? Like, enemies to lovers kind of style?

If you want to do a oneshot or headcanons is up to you, I'm just starving for Scott content.

Don't know, if you wanna do is, especially since he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought "hey, give it a try, maybe she wants to try someting different" so here I go

Anyway, love your work, you#re amazing <3

Cyclops/GN!Reader I've had this prompt saved in my drafts for SO LONG. Basically since the moment it came in!! I was so happy you sent this in bc i had been thinking about writing for Scott, but then I couldn't think of a good enough way to carry this out so I waited on it for a good bit until I had it down to a science!! Hope you enjoy!! Man, I started writing this and then realised I had to make a banner for him too 😭 I did this to myself tho Most of the characters I write for are written as combinations from different x-men media, but I'm still figuring out how I want to characterise Scott since he's a new character for me. Just wanted to put this out there in case I change how I write for him in future fics. (also, let me know how you feel about him in this one! Tell me if yall think I should tweak his attitude a bit :) ) Edit from the future: I started this draft so long ago and damn did it turn out long. TWs: Idk at the moment, will add if I think of any! Reader has a specific power that is kinda vague at first. I've written them out at the very bottom BUT if u read u will spoil the surprise of the fic so fair warning

Scott does not like you. At least, not anymore.

You've known each other for a long time, both coming to Xavier's school within weeks of each other. You used to be friends- or at least friendly. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves and your powers, a gap began to form, and then continued to grow once both of you became members of the x-men.

It's not like he didn't notice your tendency for rebellious behavior before, but on the field? the two of you clashed more than ever. He's doing his best out here, and the last thing he needs as a leader is both you and Logan going out of your way to put yourselves in dangerous situations because you think you know better.

And the moment you get back to the mansion? You clash all over again- and over the dumbest things. You practically avoid him all of the time, refuse to spar with him unless you're forced, will scoot away from him if he has to sit next to you on game nights. It's like the very thought of brushing against him is enough to get under your skin.

The moment the blackbird lands, you should have known what to expect. But you're in such a good mood, with the mission having gone well despite all odds. Sure, you didn't exactly follow Cyclops' foolproof plan, but when did you ever?

Scott is standing at the end of the ramp when the doors open, watching with a rather sour look on his face as you laugh with Jubilee, the others trailing shortly behind. He crosses his arms, and you barely stop short of him, acting like you had never seen him in the first place as you sigh, nodding at the others to go ahead before finally turning to him and crossing your own arms.

"Go ahead. Say your piece." You say. It only stokes the irritation in him, and he scowls.

"You can't go one, single mission and actually listen to what I say, can you?" He snaps. You roll your eyes, knowing that if he had it his way, you'd never have gone on the mission at all. Still, you stand defiantly, unwilling to back down.

"Look, you weren't even there, you can't expect me to-"

"It would be different if I was there, but I wasn't." Scott interrupts you, and the aggravation it lights in you is practically all-consuming. You can't hold back your scowl. "You were the only senior member of the team on that plane, do you understand how detrimental it could have been if you had gotten hurt, or worse?!" Oh, what a load of horseshit. It's alway the boy scout schtick with him- I'm the leader, do what I say, If I was there none of this would have happened- what an asshole! Hell, in the second half you might have actually thought he was concerned for you and the team, but you knew better.

"Don't act like you actually give a damn, Summers." You snap. "Everyone is fine, no one got hurt, I don't see your problem." You're done with this. You're tired, sweaty, exhausted, and the last thing you want to be doing right now is talking with him. You knock shoulders with him as you brush past, but he reaches out and grabs you by the arm. You feel a mix of strong emotions- anger, concern, frustration- and thoughts swim in your head, before snatching your arm away from him like you'd been burned. He pauses for a second as you whip around and look at him, a rage in your eyes. He still looks at you with that stupid, stubborn look on his face.

"I get that you think I'm just some stuck-up asshole, but there's a reason I get angry when you do something reckless." His voice has lost the smallest a bit of fire. You scoff at him immediately, before turning away to storm out.

"Eat shit."

So no. things weren't exactly cool between you two.

It's not like you weren't friends at some point though, back when you were kids. You didn't know what happened to cause this rift, but he only really thought of you as some reckless idiot as of late, and you didn't care to learn anything else about what was going on in his brain.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean you could avoid him forever. Not when the both of you are on a team.

You only realise how much pain you're in when the blackbird's autopilot clicks on. Your suit was scuffed and worn in some areas, starting to burn at the edges of your sleeves as the protective coating started to wear away. You noticed it in the midst of battle, trying to focus on manipulating debri to a colder temperature rather than a hot one, but sometimes you can't afford to be picky in fights. Your suit may have been temperature resistant, but you were temperature invulnerable. Besides, heat did the most damage anyway.

You frown a bit at the sight of your burnt sleeves. Normally, you'd be worried that Hank would be mad at having to make a new suit again, but if anything you were sure he'd be grateful for the challenge of improving it. Scott was really the only one who would scold you for it, always coming back to the same arguments of being too reckless, ect, ect... and speaking of Scott, he was being awfully quiet right now.

The cockpit is empty exempt for the two of you, being the only two assigned to the mission. Scott is sat in the pilot's chair, and you can't really see much of him besides the top of his head. He's silent, and it makes you worried.

When you stand and walk. over to him, his face looks pained. You're sure his eyes are closed under his signature visor, his head leaning back limply in the chair, hair tussled. You furrow your eyebrows. You knew he'd be tired, but he's not usually this burned out.

"Scott? You alright?" You ask. he only hums in response. It's then when you realise what's wrong.

"Migraine?" You ask, and he hums in the affirmative. You wince at the thought. You knew he got migraines often, especially when using his mutation more than usual, and having migraines yourself, you knew he was hurting. You take a look at where the emergency aid box usually is, knowing it had painkillers, but the space is empty, and you sigh to yourself when you remember you used it on a local- Scott agreeing with you for once when you wanted to leave it with them for any more emergencies. You look back at Scott, and think for a moment more.

Scott jumps when you place a cold hand on his forehead, having settled your weight on the back of the chair behind him. It sparks a feeling of surprise.

"What are you doing?" Scott asks, and instead of his usual accusatory tone, he just sounds tired.

"Don't be a baby." You respond, chilling both hands and combing through his hair gently. Scott is confused as all hell. Why were you doing this? You go out of your way to avoid him at any cost, and then... this? What even was this?

But... he'd be lying if it didn't feel nice. Scott begins to relax underneath you as you continue to comb through his scalp, pressing gentle touches to his forehead as you do so. It's... it feels good.

"My mom used to do this when I was little." You say softly, after a long moment of silence. "Whenever I had a migraine, she'd run her hands under cold water for a long time, lay my head in her lap, and run her hands through my hair. The cold usually helped." Scott's shoulder's are sagging now, and he sighs every once in a while. Although he doesn't say anything, you don't need to ask. There's a question beginning to brim, but you answer it before he can even speak- saving him the effort of talking in the midst of his pain.

"...And it just felt nice to feel her play with my hair, I guess. 'figured it might help you, too."

You try not to dwell on whatever thoughts begin to swirl after that.

It's hard to tell when things shift after that. Even harder for Scott to understand why.

Eventually you go from avoiding him at any given chance, stiff and petty with your actions, to casual. Not quite friendly, but almost.

"And... Right hand red!" Jubilee calls from the couch, having entirely too much fun for someone who isn't even playing this game. Everyone who's already lost has dispersed, either playing a different game or having good conversation. The game of twister had started with four? Maybe five of you? But at the moment, it was just down to you and Scott. -The two of you being way too competitive to let the other win. At the moment, both of you were in a bit of a strange position, with Scott managing to crawl over you at some point. Aside from that, the game had been going on for uncomfortably long- long enough for the pizza to get here.

The doorbell rings and it's pretty instantaneous when people start to flock to the kitchen for the feast, Jubilee included. There's a flicker of panic in both of you as she quickly leaves.

"Hey!-"

"Jubilee! Wait!"

"You'll be fine, you big babies!" She calls out, giggling in her pursuit of the cheesy goodness. That just leaves you and Scott on the matt, pressed together in some places and a but uncomfortable, but awkwardly? Still competeting.

"God, that pizza smells good." Scott groans from above you, the smell of food becoming more and more tempting. You think about it, for a half a second maybe, but that competitive little devil on your shoulder gets to you before your stomach can.

"You know what? why don't you go ahead and grab a piece!" You say, causing Scott to cock an eyebrow at you.

"What, and let you win? Not a chance." He huffs. You shrug best you can, it was worth a shot! Neither of you were going to budge any time soon, determined not to let the other win. But the longer you stayed pressed together...

It's not like you hadn't noticed how handsome Scott was. Hell, who wouldn't? Even Logan isn't immune to his good looks, but obviously you weren't going to be... wierd, about it. You're just playing a game, right? But the sight of him above you, slightly flushed, shifting every once in a while while keeping his balance? It was... tempting.

It doesn't take long for other thoughts to begin swimming around, worming their way into your mind. The two of you in various states of undress... gasping, gripping onto one another... marks on his neck, your lips swollen and stained by the lipstick your wearing tonight.

Each and every thought leaves you more flustered than before, slipping on the plastic mat and accidentally knocking into one of Scott's weight bearing arms and sending the two of you colliding into the floor. You hear Scott let out a noise of pain and you're not down there for long before you shove him off of you, face burning as you grumble about his win. You stalk off without much fanfare, leaving Scott a bit befuddled.

"What was that all about?"

But regardless of how aggravated you made eachother sometimes, everyone has their breaking point...

You're surprised when Scott kisses you in the hall some weeks later, less than a second after a heated spat started to take a bit of a turn, but to be honest? You were into it.

His lips are soft, if a little chapped, heated kisses full of force and urgency before they soften just a little. You kiss him back in a similar manner his hands falling to your waist as you grab him by the collar and pull him even closer. You're quick to start moving the two of you backwards fumbling for a closet door you could have sworn was right... there.

As soon as the door swings open, you pull him inside, pushing him against the wall once it closes again and cupping the back of his neck as you pull him into another kiss. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth shoots through you as you do, and you almost giggle as his thoughts start to flood with more and more tempting situations for the two of you to be in.

After each and every dirty thought he has, you start to wonder if he even remembered your touch telepathy after having known you for so long- but hell, even if he didn't, you weren't complaining.

If u made it this far, I wanna give u details about the Reader's powers some more!! Specifically, the powers are temperature manipulation/temperature invulnerability/touch telepathy! They get a bit complicated bc reader can't light shit on fire or make ice out of the air, but they can melt shit and freeze existing water though! As long as reader touches it in some way! Due to this they're invulnerable to heat/cold for obvious reasons. Touch telepathy was added bc i love mutations with unnecessary layers (Emma frost) and... u really think I was gonna let scott get away without banging another telepath? wrONG

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Absolutely loved When the Rooster Misses the Dawn. Do you plan to write more? Maybe a morning after scene?

Eh, why not. This one isn't quite as fun, and it is considerably longer because they led me down a slightly more angsty road. I felt like there needed to be some kind of aftermath/consequences of Gale listening at their door. But it is from Peeta and Katniss's pov's so you get to read some absolutely unhinged, down bad for his wife Peeta thoughts, if that's your thing. And it does contain Everlark sexy times and a happy ending for them (duh). Part one is here.

RATED M: for sexual content and discussions of miscarriage.

***

The Hen Tarries in Her Bed

There existed very few temptations great enough to induce Peeta Lucian Mellark, accidental Earl of Baecare, fourth in his father’s line to hold the title, to linger in bed past the rising of the sun. 

Whether they were the intended heir or not, the late Lady Mellark had demanded a certain level of industry in each of her three sons. Peeta, as the youngest, was no exception, and his body retained the training of early rising and hard work, even after the school yard incident that led to his injury. Even after his mother had passed from the world along with his father and brothers, and Peeta had inherited the title, the fortune, the lands, and all of the privileges that came with such trappings, he could never sleep past the dawn.

But his wife… ah she certainly presented the greatest temptation of them all. 

He smiled at the sight of Katniss, still slumbering in her bed. He left her to see to his morning needs, but the soft, pale glow of a lovely spring morning had begun to spread across the sky, making her appear awash with starlight, even as the stars faded from view. He found that he could not resist such a delicious temptation, even though he knew that he should. He had business to see to, and she would undoubtedly be sore after the previous night’s delights.

But in truth, had Peeta ever managed to resist her? He had not.

He discarded the dressing robe and slippers he had donned, and instead of beginning the day’s work, he slipped back beneath the covers, finding the area he had vacated still warm with his own heat. He sighed, content. Carefully, so as to not wake her just yet, he drew his body close to hers and wrapped his arm securely around her. Nestling his face in her riotously messy hair, he smiled and savored her soft sigh, the movements of her body that brought her closer to him, even in her sleep.

He, however, could not sleep, so instead he watched the dawn paint the sky in rosy tones. He caressed Katniss’s still naked form and attempted to reign in his reawakened desire for her. Granted, he did not think he could deem it reawakened. His love for her had never slumbered, and neither had his desire. He’d merely had cause sufficient enough these past few months to firmly control himself where his wife was concerned.

Perhaps his mother’s strict training had at last worked to achieve the desired effect of nobility, beyond Peeta’s inability to tarry in bed. The late Lady Mellark refused to allow any of her sons flights of passion or fancy to the point that Peeta’s brother’s often joked that they resided in a monastery, not an estate, although Peeta knew both of his older brothers had engaged with lovers while away at school. In Peeta’s case, there existed reasons why lovers were more difficult to secure, and he sometimes feared that such austerity in his upbringing caused him to completely lack control once he discovered the abundant bliss to be found in his marriage bed with Katniss.

Likely, his mother would not have approved of his marriage to Katniss at all, had she lived, and certainly not if he still somehow inherited the title, but Peeta had not cared. Not in the end. 

Katniss had claimed his attention nearly from their first meeting, and although he did try to court other potential brides whom his mother and father would have considered to be far more suitable candidates for the next countess, Peeta’s heart was not in the pursuit of their hands. 

He felt himself continually drawn back to Miss Everdeen’s side, attracted to her wit and her willingness to tease him and verbally spar with him as they stood on the fringes of ballrooms. Or when they would meet in the park, both on horseback, and together avoided the need to converse with society at large, preferring the quiet company of one another. They often met on the streets, usually while shopping for a book, and they quickly fell into a friendship through discussing one tome or another, recommending a book the other had yet to read. She expressed an interest in his art when he mentioned his feeble attempts at painting when they met in the galleries one afternoon, although he waited until after they were betrothed to fully share that aspect of himself with her.

He appreciated the way in which she showed concern for his health, often slowing her steps and finding interesting sights to give him time to rest, but somehow she still refused to treat him as an invalid.

She claimed that she hated to be the center of any form of attention and everyone seemed intent on determining if she were a ruthless fortune hunter or an heiress, so she preferred to appease her guardians with appearances at balls and other society functions, but had no intentions of pursuing a husband at all. She had far more interest in the food being served than in the gentlemen seeking her attention, and so Peeta had gladly secured refreshments for her whenever she desired at one event after another.

Yet he knew it to be an entirely futile endeavor, courting Miss Everdeen. Peeta… well he did intend to marry. As an earl, it was expected of him, but he despised the manner in which young ladies saw his injury as a sort of obstacle worth their endurance if it secured for them his title and fortune. Furthermore, he knew many of the young ladies viewed him as a desirable husband, solely due to the fortune and title, but as an entirely unsuitable and unromantic suitor, since his leg limited his desire to engage in many of the very basic courtship requirements -- namely… dancing.

Until that fateful night when he had noticed Katniss attempting to politely refuse the request of a dance from a gentleman of questionable honor. Peeta had stepped in and falsely declared that his own name was on her dance card for the next set and apologized for his tardiness in escorting her to the floor.

He could not ascertain from her expression if she were furious or relieved or indifferent to his interference, yet she had not hesitated in resting her gloved hand on his proffered arm and following him out to the floor. They had stumbled, quite awkwardly, through one dance and a half before Peeta’s leg demanded that he cease such foolishness. His pride smarted fiercely, far worse than the pain in his leg, as he excused himself before the set ended, humiliated at his own weaknesses and furious with himself that he must humiliate her in such a manner, abandoning her partnerless on the floor.

Better that than continuing to humiliate her with his clumsy dancing, he had reasoned as he leaned heavily on his cane and made his escape.

Peeta had escaped the crowded ballroom into the garden and limped as quickly as he could manage to a secluded spot in the hedges and collapsed on a stone bench. He’d barely caught his breath, and then she was there. Angry, yes, but not for the reasons he had suspected.

And the kiss.

Oh the way she had kissed him that night. Peeta supposes he ought to have been shocked by her forward behavior, but even then, he could not bring himself to deny her. He had indulged in the kisses, aching and greedy and hopeful. He had pursued more kisses, drunk and lightheaded with love and desire for her. Convinced that this encounter would be his only hope for a passionate interlude.

She did not wish to marry and he must. How could he expect anything but a cold, impersonal marriage bed from any of the young girls sniffing after him for title and fortune but who cared not to know who he was as a man. Especially after he knew Katniss’s kiss. Knew the heat and warmth of her fire. Knew the heady tonic of her regard for him. Perhaps she did not love him, but he knew that she respected him. They were at the very least friends. And he was already hopelessly in love with her, he knew. It would be impossible for him to refrain from comparing every kiss in his future to this one.

Of course, they had been discovered. Thankfully, it had been before Peeta’s self control slipped so much as to completely ruin her, although it had been a near thing. 

It had been Katniss's sponsor in town who discovered them in such an amorous embrace. The rather intimidating Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, whose suddenly gained fortune remained cloaked in mystery and dark rumors as to the source. It mattered not. Her sponsor saw her into her mother’s arms and then returned to Peeta. He had only to assure Mr. Abernathy that he fully intended to call on Miss Everdeen in the morning and request the honor of her hand in order to avoid a duel, although Mr. Abernathy’s words that it would take some convincing on Peeta’s part to secure the lady’s agreement kept him awake well into the morning.

He hated that he must ask her to go against her own wishes. He hated that he must ask for her hand when she had no desire to marry. But nor could he bear to be the reason for a stain on her reputation, or that of her sister’s by proxy. He hated himself for knowing that if nothing else, the threat to Miss Primrose’s reputation would likely induce Katniss to accept him. 

He tossed and turned for long hours, despising himself for allowing himself to become swept away in the moment and ignoring Katniss’s clearly stated desires.

Still, Peeta had woken before dawn and called at the Abernathy house at the earliest hour that would not be considered rude. Surprisingly, it had required very little persuasion to secure Katniss’s agreement. She asked merely a few inconsequential favors of Peeta that he would have seen to anyway. As her husband, of course he would provide a home, security, funds, and comfort for her mother and sister. She hadn’t even needed to ask, but those were her meager requests in exchange for her hand.

During the weeks leading up to their wedding, Peeta could not determine what Katniss might be feeling. She did not act the ecstatic, besotted bride, but neither did she eschew his company. They continued on much as they had before the kiss.

Except that it continued to happen. Whenever he found himself alone with Katniss and any modicum of privacy, they could not seem to resist one another. He began to doubt the entire thing. He wondered if Katniss kissed him so frequently and fervently so as to secure their marriage. Perhaps he had read her intentions entirely wrong. Perhaps he knew nothing about her at all. And so Peeta braced himself for a rude awakening once they were married. 

An awakening that never materialized.

Every night, during the early days of their marriage, he went to her bed expecting an indifferent and dutiful wife, submitting to his carnal desires only out of a sense of obligation for the security and financial care he gave to her family. Instead, he had found Katniss not only willing but almost forceful in her own carnal demands, and he was helpless to resist such a temptation. Even the flimsiest of beliefs that he might be wanted rather than merely tolerated overwhelmed everything else.

Even when Peeta knew her to be tired or homesick for her family, the moment Katniss kissed him and pulled him into her bed, he lost all sense of decency or consideration. Her lips on his always seemed to create a lapse in his decorum. Not that Katniss ever seemed reluctant in their lovemaking. Quite the opposite. But after every night of vigorous, prolonged intercourse, Peeta always feared that he had become some sort of mad beast. Uncontrolled and unable to stop, even past the point when he knew his love would become exhausted, past the point when he knew she would face soreness, aching muscles, and perhaps other ailments the following day.

Every morning that he woke beside her, his memories of the previous night stoking his desire awake again, he braced himself for a cold rebuff of his advances that never came. Again, quite the opposite. They made love in the morning nearly as frequently as they did at night. 

Eventually, he began to hope that she might love him.

And then the babe. 

He had, of course, been elated when Katniss had informed him merely three months into their marriage that she was with child. For a time, they had shared a blissful happiness. He could scarcely believe that he might have so many of his heart’s desires. But providence did not see fit to allow them to continue in their bliss.

There was his own bitter disappointment at the loss of their child, but Katniss bore it far harder than he. Peeta struggled with his feelings of helplessness. He could do no more than hold her and soothe her, love her as best he could, and withhold himself from her bed for as long as possible.

At first, such restraint had been easy. Her body would not allow it. As she began to heal in body, she asked him to sleep beside her again, for comfort. He had agreed, but within days, Katniss made several frantic, tearful attempts to seduce him. His body proved more than willing, but his mind thankfully managed to win the battle. She was not ready. Not if she were sobbing as she issued the invitation into her bed.

She could not bear it, she sobbed into his chest night after night. She could not bear the loss.

Heartbroken and fearful for both of their sanity, Peeta attempted a new approach. He held her on the settee in her chambers, until she fell into slumber, and then he would carry her to her bed, leaving her there alone and retreating to his own. The first month of that had been torture. The cold way she would greet him in the mornings, both of them fully dressed and pale with lack of sleep, gutted him. He nearly caved when the doctor announced her body ready to bear the strain of intercourse, ready to bear another child.

The pronouncement came the same day as a letter from her childhood friend, Colonel Gale Albert Hawthorne, announcing his intention to visit them. As she relayed the news to her husband, Katniss had smiled. It was the first spark of real happiness Peeta had seen in her since the babe had been lost.

In response, Peeta did what any sensible man would do. He had gotten himself drunk for the first time in his life that night and locked himself in his study, fearful of what he might do if he went anywhere near his wife’s bed.

In the morning, jealousy and despair and alcohol still warred within him. Until he woke to find his wife sleeping on the sofa, her arm stretched over the edge and her hand clasped around his as he slept on the floor. He had expected that at last, with the man she could have married set to visit them, Katniss would see Peeta as he truly was. Worthless.

Instead, Katniss had begun a campaign of seduction, conceived with near military precision to attack Peeta’s weaknesses and defenses. The only reasons Peeta had managed to resist her at all was owing to the moments of obvious, deep grieving Katniss still displayed, and his awareness that once she saw her undoubtedly dashing, frighteningly capable, military friend again, she may very well decide Peeta was no longer worthy of her regard. 

He held out as long as he could, watching her recovery as closely as he could without discomfitting her. Gale had arrived as expected, and as expected, Peeta found him to be every bit the dashing hero he had feared to meet. Tall, handsome, smartly garbed in his uniform and bearing the responsibilities of his rank and success with clear ease. Peeta found himself observing his wife’s interactions with the colonel with far too much interest and fear. 

Yet, although there were moments when Peeta’s heart twisted with the certainty that he had already lost his wife to this man’s love, Katniss never wavered in her efforts to resume marital relations with Peeta, culminating in the note she had sent the night prior, after she had retired to her chambers. It had come to him via a footman, and found him in the drawing room, mired in a conversation with the colonel, about the empire’s prospects for expansion, and when he read the note, it had required all of Peeta’s fortitude and self-control to refrain from running out on the colonel mid-sentence.

Then, somehow, the conversation had turned to Katniss herself as Gale regaled Peeta with several anecdotes about their shared childhood. Peeta had only grown more uncomfortable and less sure of himself as the night wore on. Doubting the sincerity of Katniss’s words in her missive. Until an offhand comment from Gale had caught his attention.

“She was always such a quiet, serious child. I expected her to grow into a quiet, serious woman. Who would have guessed our Katniss could sing with such beauty?”

It took Peeta far too long to piece it together. The words and their meaning. Far too long for him to reply. “Do you mean to say she did not sing when she was younger?”

“Not that I ever heard. She had no use for anything she considered pure amusement. While other young ladies concern themselves with frivolous pursuits such as ribbons and rainbows and embroidering cushions, Katniss concerned herself with far more substantial matters. The running of a household in her father’s place, and the like. What need has a woman of her station for singing except to catch a husband? And you’ll know, of course, that she had not intended to pursue marriage…”

It felt an accusation, this reminder of Katniss’s wish to remain free of matrimony. Yet somehow, Peeta found himself defending Katniss’s capitulation to him rather than defend himself, who was the clear target of the implied accusation.

“She didn’t. Pursue it, that is,” Peeta supplied, and Gale had given him an odd look. Peeta had been too caught up attempting to decipher the rest to pay too much attention to the expression. It made no sense. Katniss had told him that she sang with her father as a child, that her education in song had been informal but beautiful, and comprised many of her fondest memories of her father. She had once told Peeta that when she sang, she felt close to her father again, in a happy way. She sang all the time in the months before they’d lost the babe. And yet here sat Gale, her childhood friend whom Peeta feared as a threat to their marriage, admitting that he had no knowledge of this aspect of Katniss’s childhood, of her heart.

What else then, did Gale not know about Katniss?

Hope sprang to life again in Peeta’s chest. Using the first lull in conversation to make his excuses, Peeta had rushed upstairs and dismissed his valet as soon as he was prepared for bed. Still, he paced and worried and doubted, reading and reading the note again and again. Mulling over her song tonight, Gale’s admissions.

Love me again, she had demanded. Did she not know? Did she not know how fiercely love for her had always beat in his breast? Clearly she had not. Resolved to show her, Peeta had gone to her, intending only to provide for her pleasure and then hold her while they slept. But of course, Katniss had other intentions, and once he was again naked in bed with her, Peeta found that he could not resist. 

And he had been right. He had become a mad man. A demon in her bed, yet she had not allowed him to stop. She had in fact encouraged him and demanded his passion. Despite his better judgment, his body awakened the way it did in those early months of marriage. Ready to plunge into her again. And again. And again. Until they were too tired even to dress for sleep.

Peeta knew it would be the same this morning, even after last night. Perhaps especially after last night. He dared not wake her to satisfy his own desires, however, not after he kept her awake so late into the night, into the morning even, with their repeated lovemaking. 

He chastised himself for demanding so much of her, for asking so much of her. But, God help him, he desperately and constantly desired his wife, and once Katniss initiated their lovemaking, Peeta almost always found it impossible for him to stop until they both collapsed, satisfied, exhausted, and completely spent.

He should not wake her, he thought as he continued to watch the sun’s progress as it rose and still his wife slept in his arms. He should not. And so he fought a familiar battle with his own body.

Eventually, she stirred in his arms and Peeta found his hand wandering closer and closer to places where bliss could be found. Katniss murmured in her sleep and then stilled. Her breathing halted and Peeta ceased his touches, waiting for her to notice her body’s fatigue and unleash her anger on him for his inconsiderate behaviour.

“Peeta? Why did you stop?” she asked instead and Peeta sighed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and rolled his body away from hers.

“Because you must be tired and sore this morning.”

“I am,” she said and turned to him, her brow furrowed. “But that is no excuse for you to tease me and then to cease.”

“I had not--” he stopped talking at the knock on her door that preceded the turning of the key and the entrance of a servant.

“Lady Mellark, shall I see to your needs?” Eliza, her ladies’ maid, halted and gasped as she saw them. “Your pardon, my lord! My lady! I had no idea!”

She bobbed a curtsy and left, locking the door again behind her. Peeta glanced at Katniss and noted her furious blush. While Katniss was recovering, she often locked the door in an attempt to hide her grief from even the servants. Peeta had gotten quite irate with her over that and the servants had standing orders to ignore the locked door to her chamber, to ensure that Lady Mellark had ample food and had not worsened during her periods of rest.

“You did not rescind the locked door order, did you?” Katniss accused him. Of course he had not. It still felt necessary until a few days ago, and then her note last night had him too distracted to rescind the order.

“And with that, my lady, I believe I shall depart,” Peeta declared and reached for his crutch, but before he could grasp it, Katniss gripped his shoulder and pushed him back onto the mattress.

“You will not. You will wait here.” Katniss clambered from the bed then, and Peeta lay there, wondering why he did not simply leave the room. She returned shortly after and slid naked back into the bed. Peeta gripped the sheets beneath him and swallowed, praying for forbearance.

He would not make demands of her body this morning. He would not.

“Do you intend to ignore me, husband? Or shall we sleep a little longer in one another’s arms?”

“My love, we have a guest,” Peeta reminded her and yet he could not resist. He returned his body to his earlier position, wrapped protectively around her.

“He has been here long enough to grow comfortable. He can amuse himself,” Katniss stated as she wriggled in his arms. Peeta hissed and gripped her hip to halt her motions.

“Have a care, my love. I do not wish to hurt you.”

Katniss scoffed at his words but stilled her body, and gradually, Peeta relaxed enough to slip into a light slumber, warm and content to at last be in her bed again, to know that their love had not been diminished by the months of denial.

***

Katniss waited for her husband’s breathing to calm. The steady puffs of air against her neck did little to calm her own awakened needs, but she was satisfied that Peeta at least slumbered for now. She knew that he woke before dawn every morning, if he slept at all. She knew that he had likely spent the morning silently berating himself for what had happened in their bed last night, despite all the evidence she had heaped before him that she had wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. 

She had been relieved at that. Some part of her knew that Peeta’s restraint since they lost the babe was due to his consideration for her well being, both in body and in spirit, yet it had infuriated her. Ever since that first kiss they shared in the garden, Katniss had delighted in her husband’s bashful restraint at first and gloried in his absolutely mad passion once she had broken through his restraint. 

It was always the same with him, this belief in his own insignificance, this insistence that he not burden her with himself or his feelings, that he must distance himself to protect her, from what she knew not. And then once she had found the crack in his armour and split it open, the immense outpouring of love and need and passion that Peeta could no longer contain.

Today, she sensed that he needed rest. And perhaps the haze of his sleepiness would allow her to slip in again and ignite his desire for her enough to overcome his silly inhibitions about hurting her. Of course her body was sore this morning. How could it not be, with the impassioned way Peeta had demanded her satisfaction several times the previous night? Katniss did not intend to let that stop her. She had not let it stop her in the early months of their marriage, and she would not let it stop her now.

She let him sleep until the morning sun blazed through the window. Of course, Peeta was correct about their guest. Gale would be awake and about the house by now, but she did not intend to let that stop her either. Eliza had already proven herself time and again as a resourceful and thoughtful maid. She would likely provide a suitable explanation to Gale as to the whereabouts of the lord and lady of the house.

In the meantime, Katniss let her hand rest on Peeta’s thigh and began to caress him, the way he had been caressing her as she woke earlier. She felt the stirring of his desire against her backside and, unrelenting, continued her caressing assault on him.

His breath hitched and his fingers clenched on her hip. 

“Katniss,” he groaned and she slid her hand between them. “My love.”

“Why do you fight what we both desire, my lord? My love,” she whispered and gasped as his hand slid around her body, delving into her already considerable arousal.

“Because you are in pain. Because I need you to understand that while I grieve the child we lost, I cannot bear to put you at risk for the hope of another.”

She gasped again and whimpered, wriggling in his arms as his deft fingers and his pained words proved to her again how well her husband knew her.

“I want you, Peeta,” she sighed and moved her hips, inviting him to come into her as they lay like that, his body curled around hers, his chest pressing warm and solid to her back. “I yearn for your touch for the sake of your touch. I want you because I want you. Not because I am desperate for another child.”

“But you do desire another child,” he murmured. She turned her head and gazed up at him, allowing all the sorrow and love she felt to show in her expression as she nodded.

“Yes. Yes, my love. I want a child. Ours. Your eyes, your laugh, your ridiculous curls on his head. But I can wait for them. I cannot wait much longer for you. I cannot bear this distance between us any longer. Do not place it there again.”

His eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against hers, and yet he gripped her thigh and opened her a little more. She gasped as he entered her, swift and sure and deep.

“Oh my love, yes,” she whimpered as he began to move. She smiled with the ecstasy and stroked his cheek and his hair as they gasped and whispered to one another. Her body twisted and turned with the need. Her fingernails scraped at his scalp as she moaned and flew higher, closer to her crisis with each sinuous movement of their bodies together.

She reached hers first, as she knew she would, crying out and then clinging to him as his mouth muffled her sounds of ecstasy. His kiss only heightened her pleasure in her release and she quaked like a storm in his arms, certain that only his hold on her prevented her complete destruction.

As she floated back down from her rapture, she smiled for a moment and then frowned. “My love. You did not join me.”

“I did not,” he admitted, kissing her perspiring brow and then her eyelids, then her lips. “I’ve no wish to hurt you.”

“Then you will love me until you finish as well,” she stated simply. “Let me--”

“No,” he said, his fingers tightening on her hip and his blonde hair shimmering in the bright morning light as he shook his head. “I will take care of myself.”

At this, Katniss scowled. She moved her hips and gripped tight to his hair as he grunted and met her movement. “You will not.”

“You said you could wait for a child.”

“I can. And I will if I must, but you will not deny me what we both desire, Peeta,” she murmured and grinned at the sound of his tormented groan. At the feel of his restraint snapping once again.

Words of love poured from his mouth unchecked as he altered their embrace. He came to her as she lay on her back beneath him now. He moved above her, inside her. She clung to him, her limbs tight around his body, her hands scratching desperately at his back as she arched into their love. Into the inevitable pleasure of having him inside her, moving as though they had been formed for one another. It felt as though starlight coursed in her veins and perhaps it was the stars that had determined them for one another. She knew it was the sort of thing Peeta himself might say, and in fact he did say such things in the early days of their marriage.

Even before that, when they were but friends, together avoiding the matchmaking schemes of others, at times he would say things that hinted at an undying love for her.

Those words had frightened her then but she craved them now. She pulled his mouth closer to hers so that she might breathe them into her lungs as they poured from his lips, his love a vital source of life to her body.

She shook her head in disbelief at the power his love still held over her and whimpered as she felt her body approaching another climax. He must feel it too, she sensed as the expression in his eyes shifted from awe to determination. His fists clenched in the bedclothes beside her ribs and he leaned into her, his movements steady and constant, allowing her to tip into the flames of ecstasy first. 

She felt him following her, though, even through the waves of release. He followed her with a tremendously loud shout and wild, almost punishing thrusts of his hips. His body would not seem to countenance restraint in that moment and as soon as he passed through it, she pulled him to her in a tight, unbreakable embrace.

He buried his face in her bosom and seemed to be sobbing. It frightened her a little, his sudden release of feeling. She had once asked him why he so often held back as he did from their passion, until it became uncontainable. He had admitted to her that his father once told him that intercourse was the duty of the nobility to continue the lines. That it should be cold and dispassionate by necessity because passion clouded the judgement and therefore, the late Lord Mellark had taught his son, was the sole luxury of lower echelons of society.

How wretched, Katniss had thought when Peeta first told her that. Her own mother had come from a lower line of the gentry and married a steward. At the time, it must have been scandalous, but they had been happy and loved one another deeply. Katniss herself had married Peeta not because of his title, but because she loved him, although she had not yet admitted it to herself at the time, and Peeta loved her. Despite his father’s lessons on passion, Peeta showered her in affection and passion alike. 

No one could deny his love for her. 

Much later, they arose from bed and dressed. Peeta aided her with her corset and gown, which delighted her. It had been far too long since he had performed these small tasks for her, engaged in these marital intimacies. He assisted her in donning her stockings even, smiling up at her and kissing her thighs above the embroidered garter ribbons he ordered for her as a wedding gift. She clung to the bedclothes as he did so, thinking of the day he gave them to her. The flower of her namesake twisted around words stitched in a watery blue, like the lakes where one could find Katniss blooms.

Here where I wish to always stay, to know your embrace.

He confessed to her that it had felt perfectly scandalous when he ordered them for her, that it had taken him a long time to pluck up the courage to give them to her, uncertain as he was of her reaction. 

When he did give them to her several days after their wedding, along with a pair of luminously silky stockings, Katniss had blushed and wavered for a moment. Was she indeed allowed such a scandalously intimate thing? Of course she was, she finally decided. They were married. She sat up in their bed, clutching the neck of her night shift closed for some silly reason, and beckoned him to her.

“Help me with them?”

He had, even though she would not wear such a thing to sleep and it was already late at night. His touch as he slid the stockings up her calves, the brush of his fingers as he tied the garters in place had aroused her beyond imagining. When he had finished and sat back to admire them on her, Katniss reached for him and dragged him to bed.

Moments later, she had come apart with Peeta embraced between her legs, their bodies undulating in harmony and Katniss moaning his name like a chorus while his fingers toyed with the ribbons still holding the stockings in place.

Remembering that night, Katniss watched as Peeta once again tied the garters in place and turned his head to kiss each of her knees before he stood. She reached out and grasped two handfuls of his still loose shirt. They gazed into one another’s eyes and Katniss wondered if he could anticipate her words before she spoke. 

Instead of speaking, she tugged on the fabric in her hands and Peeta tumbled back into bed with her.

Much later, with some difficulty, Katniss let him go as Peeta rose from the bed and stretched. 

“Do you intend to remain in bed and neglect our guest all day, my love?” he teased and Katniss threw the nearest pillow at him. He deflected it with a wicked grin on his face and shrugged on his dressing robe. “Or shall I ring up for food to prolong your stay in the sheets.”

“It seems a little late for that. Order a large luncheon today, and perhaps I shall have a bath, since my wicked husband seems intent on exhausting me.”

Peeta scoffed at her words, but the grin hadn’t moved from his face. He rang for Eliza and retrieved Katniss’s key from her drawer before unlocking the door and opening it.

“My lord,” Eliza curtsied again.

“My lady requests a hot bath, although it is abominably late in the day.” Peeta’s grin remained unrepentant as he made the declaration, but Eliza shared a knowing look with Katniss.

“Right away, my lord. My lady.”

She disappeared and Peeta shut the door, his eyes pausing on the floor as he bent over to retrieve something.

“What is it?”

“A note. For you,” Peeta said, his tone and the mere presence of the note giving her pause.

“For me? From whom?”

“A lover, perhaps,” Peeta murmured and ran his finger along the edge. Katniss scoffed at his words.

“Well then, hand it over, although I have no idea why you feel the need for subterfuge when you can simply tell me your thoughts,” she said and held her hand out for the note. Her gaiety wavered as Peeta shook his head.

“It is not from me.” He showed her the address and her heart dropped to her stomach and she lowered her hand as she recognized the penmanship. She knew that her face showed Peeta a terrible untruth as he winced. “I see. I had thought…”

“Peeta, no. That is not… Gale is not my lover.” She rose hurriedly from the bed, and Peeta clutched the letter to his breast. Fear rose up in her. “Here. I will toss it in the fire.”

“Are you not even a little curious what he writes?”

“Not if it is going to lead you into doubts. Read it yourself, then,” she huffed and sat again on the bed. 

“Very well.” Peeta shrugged and tore into the note before she could react. “My darling Katniss, When this letter finds you, I will already be away--”

“Away? What can he mean?” Katniss asked, rising once more. 

“I do not know if you interrupt,” he said ut his eyes only scanned and he did not read aloud. This time, when Katniss reached for the paper, Peeta handed it over without a fight.

“I do not trust myself to continue reading without destroying something.”

My darling Katniss,

When this letter finds you, I will already be away. Perhaps I should have waited, as leaving in such haste will no doubt arouse your husband’s suspicions. I could not bear to continue a moment longer in a household where you are forced to enact such an elaborate charade. I must confess, I did lose hope briefly last night. I must explain.

After a fortnight in your home, I was convinced you must be miserable in your marriage. You are not yourself around that man. Sickly and pale, dejected and lacking all your former vibrancy. It is as though you are a watercolor caught in a current, all of your bright colors draining from you, and I, the helpless witness. 

You wrote to me, fearful of losing me. You begged me to write to you, but I know now that those pleas were mere shadows of what I must do for you. Last night, I resolved to liberate you from your prison. I came to your chambers, intending to declare myself and beg you to away with me. Instead I happened upon a most horrifying spectacle. A charade of desire enacted by yourself--

Katniss could not stop the sound of mortification that clawed its way from her throat. She looked up to find her husband with his hands braced on her mantel, staring into the fire, and somehow she knew that he had at least read to this part.

-- I must confess that at first, I believed it. I credited your performance as proof that I had in fact been mistaken. Perhaps you did indeed love your husband and desire your marriage. I resolved to depart today, a strategic retreat, an admission of defeat, but then your maid gave me hope. She claimed you to be indisposed yet again this morning and I knew that your monstrous husband must be the cause.

We were once meant to be wed, Katniss, my beloved, surely you must recall. We had an agreement, you and I. You swore you had no interest in marriage save to a man you described to me that day. I knew that man to be myself and I believed your love constant enough to induce you to wait for me. I do not accuse you of inconstancy now. I still do not know what dire tragedy forced you into marriage, but I am convinced it must be the worst form of torture and coercion for you to submit yourself to such abominable charades.

My love for you has never wavered, and I sense that yours for me remains as constant as ever. If I am right, my darling, I beg of you… come to me. Meet me at The Hanging Tree Inn along Greenbriar Road. I will await you at midnight and we will escape together.

All my love,Gale

“Escape together? How could he possibly suggest it? Has he no concept of the shame and ignominy his family would face if he deserted his post?”

Peeta turned slowly to face her, and she could see in the glittering fury in his eyes that she had spoken amiss.

“Is that… truly your only objection to this letter?” Peeta asked, his voice low and almost menacing. “Not the suggestion that you abandon our marriage for him, or his clear certainty that you would agree? Not the claim that you were engaged to him? Not the insinuation that you married me out of desperation? Not the admission that he listened at our door while we made love last night?”

His voice cracked on the last complaint and he tore his gaze away from her, whispered one more to the floor. “Or his assertion that I am draining you of all your vitality.”

“Peeta,” she gasped and stood from the bed, hurrying towards him. He stepped back and held up his hands as though to ward her off.

A knock interrupted and Peeta snatched her dressing gown up, hastily draped it over her shoulders before granting entrance to the servants. They brought in the tub and bucket after bucket of steaming water. Katniss and Peeta waited in silence. She chewed on her lip as she searched for the right words to reassure him, and came up uselessly hopelessly empty. How to untangle the mess of her feelings for Gale and how Peeta disrupted every fiber of her being? She couldn’t even fathom how or when to start.

“Thank you,” Peeta said to the servants as they finished and left, sounding shockingly calm. Kind as always.

He stood next to the tub then and motioned towards it. Already she could smell the soothing fragrance Eliza had added. She could see the steam curling up from it and longed to plunge her body into its depths. She longed even more to breach this sudden distance between them. 

“My lady,” Peeta croaked. She went to him and he helped her remove her robe, offered his hand in assistance and saw her seated in the tub. Then he bowed to her, turned on his heel, and left her. As soon as she heard the soft click of his door closing between them, Katniss buried her face in her hands and allowed herself to weep. Because she knew what she must do.

After her bath, she ordered her horse saddled and penned one sentence on a piece of paper, entrusting it to Eliza, to see it delivered to Peeta once she had left. She grimaced, still sore from the vigor of Peeta’s lovemaking, as she mounted her horse and rode the handful of miles to The Hanging Tree Inn. It was not even tea time, yet her stomach growled ominously as she rode, from hunger or anxiety, she could not be certain.

When she entered the inn, she was directed to one of the private dining rooms and pain sliced through her as Gale smiled at the sight of her. He was heartbreakingly handsome, she admitted, and she regretted the pain she must inevitably cause. He stood and opened his arms.

“You came. I knew you would.” His gaze darted over her shoulder and his smile widened. “And you came alone. Good.”

“I only came alone because I knew that you would not believe what I must tell you unless I did so in person and alone.” Gale’s smile faltered and Katniss gathered her courage.

***

There were very few temptations in this world that Peeta Lucian Mellark, Earl of Baecare and fourth in his father’s line to hold the title, feared. His mother had prided herself on instilling iron strong self control in all three of her sons. Unfortunately, she never managed to break her own husband of his drinking, and after years of cleaning up his father’s messes together with his brothers, of attempting to hide their father’s inebriation as often as possible to avoid their mother’s wrath, Peeta feared his own vulnerability to excessive drink. He never drank more than one, perhaps two drinks at a social engagement, and rarely ever did he drink at home.

He stood in the drawing room of his estate, the one to which he withdrew to seek solitude after a brawl in the schoolyard saw his leg irreparably broken and himself temporarily ejected from school, until his father had levied his wealth and title to gain Peeta’s return. His mother’s disappointment and creative punishments ensured Peeta never got caught fighting again. He withdrew here again after the fire destroyed the true estate of the title, killing his entire family while Peeta was away seeing a doctor who promised he could at last straighten Peeta’s twisted leg.

He rushed home to see his family buried and never returned to find out if the doctor’s promises held true.

Peeta had thought, when he brought Katniss here, that perhaps he could at last chase away the loneliness and misery that seemed to seep beneath the drapes of every room in the house. He clutched the glass in his right hand. His first drink poured and waiting to be consumed. He glanced again at Katniss’s maddeningly brief and unclear note.

I am not leaving.

Not leaving? Why then did he watch her mount her horse and ride the mare in the direction of town, towards the inn where Colonel Gale Hawthorne asked her to meet him. It was not too late, Peeta supposed. Would they dine and take a room at the inn? Consummate their love before beginning their journey? Perhaps he could follow and challenge Gale to a duel.

Challenge Gale, a trained soldier and colonel in the army, to a duel, what foolish nonsense.

He must indeed be the idiot his mother always declared him to be, if he believed he could earn and hold Katniss’s heart. 

He considered his drink. He should just begin it now. Get himself impossibly drunk for the second time in his life and admit that Katniss would not be returning. It was close to dinner.

A shout interrupted his wallowing and he lifted his eyes, spotted the cloud of dust at the end of the lane that indicated a rider. He dared not hope. He dared not move.

Instead, Peeta waited in the drawing room and clung to his drink and the note as the rider approached. As her form took familiar shape and he recognized the same riding habit she wore when she left. His heart clenched and he dropped the glass, spilling the alcohol on the carpet. He retrieved the glass. He grasped for his cane and turned towards the door as she dismounted.

Perhaps she forgot her luggage, he reasoned. She did leave without any bags.

The door opened then and Katniss strode into the room. She seemed confident until their eyes locked and then she wavered. Her mouth opened, but no sound came forth.

“You left,” he croaked and she scowled at him.

“I did not. Did you not read the note?”

“The note? Of course I read the note, all four unconvincing words of it.”

She blushed and dropped her gaze.

“I owe you an explanation.”

“Indeed.”

“There was never a formal engagement between Gale and I.”

She stopped talking and Peeta stared. Blinked. And grew impatient.

“I feel as though there is still much to be explained.”

“I know there is, but I do not know where to even start.”

“Expand on the lack of engagement. That is a start.”

“You should know that he kissed me.”

“He… kissed you. When?”

“Just now, at the inn. It is inconsequential and I stopped him but--”

Rage rushed up inside him, replacing at last the blank numbness that had taken over when he saw Katniss riding away from him. He threw the empty glass and it shattered against the wall. Katniss flinched and stared at him, wide eyed.

“You rode away from here, met another man -- who has professed his love for you -- at an inn, tell me that he kissed you, and expect me to accept it as inconsequential?”

“I would explain if you would let me!”

“I think I would rather call him out. But the real question remains. Would it serve any purpose?”

She scowled at him. Not her usual scowl. Peeta loved that scowl. He often teased it onto her face simply to tease it back off again, into a smile or a laugh, sometimes even a kiss. This was not that scowl. This scowl was formidable and terrifying.

“Serve any purpose? Of course it would serve no purpose! It would be pointless and stupid to call him out.”

Her words only stoked his rage. “Stupid? Stupid how? Do explain to me how it would be stupid to challenge the man who kissed my wife and asked her to run away with him?”

“Stupid because Gale is a crack shot. He would kill you.”

“And that would bother you?” Peeta asked, reckless and uncaring in the moment.

“Of course it would!”

“I fail to see why. You would be a wealthy widow.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Peeta,” she shouted as she charged towards him. “I do not want you dead! Are you really going to throw away our love because Gale kissed me once? Against my will?”

Her words immobilized him. Our love. She sometimes called Peeta “my love,” but he had accepted it as a term of endearment no different than when she called him “my lord” or “husband," not as a declaration of love.

“Yes, of course it would be stupid to challenge him to a duel when you have no hope of winning, and it would be pointless because I came back! I never intended on leaving because I love you!”

Her words and her clear fury shocked him enough that he simply stood there as she grasped his lapels and pulled on them, nearly ripping the fabric as she smashed her mouth to his. He flinched then, the image of Gale kissing her surging up in his mind. Tormenting him with the thought that she might still be able to taste the other man on her lips, even as she kissed him. He attempted to retreat, but Katniss would not allow it. Her mouth savaged his until his resistance broke. 

There were few temptations in this world that could induce Peeta Lucian Mellark, Earl of Baecare and the fourth of his father’s line to hold title, into obliterating every known rule of propriety. But the woman kissing the breath out of him had always possessed the ability to addle his mind and stir his blood. She claimed his heart and entrenched herself so deeply into his skin that even now, knowing that she had ridden away from him to meet another man, however briefly, he could not summon the will to resist her.

Perhaps it made him stupid, caving to her demands in that moment, her furious declaration of love for him still waged war in his brain with the certainty that her lover was even then still waiting for her at the inn. But even if that was her plan, to seduce Peeta and leave him too exhausted to follow, he found that he could not quite bring himself to care. Because she did come back.

She gasped when his arms came around her, cinching her impossibly tight against his chest as he finally returned her kisses. They stumbled across the room to the desk. She gasped again when he tossed her atop the desk and flipped up her skirts. Scattered papers fluttered about them, noisy distracting birds as he kissed her. He had neither the time nor the patience for niceties, but Katniss didn’t seem to either.

He moaned her name like a prayer as her hands worked to undress him enough. His coat discarded, his waistcoat half undone. He gripped her buttocks and pushed into her, drinking in the way her body arched and how she moaned as he slid home inside her. She was wet and warm all around him, and he barely had time to register her copious arousal before he began to move.

He thought he had made love to her in almost every state of passion he could conceive. Tender, grieving, hopeful, frenzied, and so many others. But as he moved between her thighs and she met his punishing thrusts with equal fervor, he knew this was different. This had the potential to destroy them. Or forge them into something even stronger than they had been before. He had feared himself to be a mad beast before, but now he knew himself to be one. He rutted between her thighs. He bit at her neck and her breasts while he fucked her. He only half heeded her cries and her pleas as the pain of her nails gouging into his skin became unbearable.

But even when she broke and screamed in his arms, he could not stop. His only saving grace came in the feel of her clenching in release all around him, in the fact that Katniss’s scream of release might be loud enough to reach the other man’s ears, even five miles away at the inn.

He joined her, desperately moaning her name and collapsing even as he was still caught in the throes of his release. The dishes from his uneaten luncheon clattered to the floor and shattered. He winced in regret at the mess, but couldn’t do a thing about it now. 

As they recovered their breath, Peeta lifted her in his arms. She curled around him and clung to him as he carried her, staggered the handful of steps to the chair before he sat heavily in it. Her fingers curled in his hair absently, again and again. He waited and waited some more. A servant knocked quietly and he sent them away. The room grew dark and finally, Katniss spoke.

She spoke of a proposal that was not a true proposal, a mere suggestion and a few questions that she had analysed over and over again. She spoke of letters that still came to Hazelle Hawthorne, even after her son had left home for his military duties. She explained that years of hard work had left Mrs. Hawthorne unable to write most days and so Katniss handled Gale’s wayward correspondence, pointing them towards his new direction. Until one day a perfumed letter arrived from a woman whose name Katniss did not recognize. Consumed with curiosity, instead of sending it on, she had read it, and known from it that Gale had taken lovers.

At first, she had been furious, then hurt, and then doubtful of Gale’s intentions. Perhaps he had no intention of marrying her at all, she had decided. She convinced herself that she had been mistaken in Gale's love for her and feeling foolish, resolved to act as though nothing had happened at all. She burned the letter and never spoke of it again, not to anyone.

Then, Haymitch Abernathy had paid a visit, claiming a distant family connection to Mr. Everdeen and offering to help his girls by sponsoring Katniss for a single season in society. She had agreed, not out of interest in finding a husband for herself, but rather to gain the knowledge she would need to guide Primrose through her own launch into polite society.

Then she had met Peeta and everything had changed. 

“We were so happy, and I so in love with you that I reconsidered my anger towards Gale. I tried to forgive him. How could I remain angry with him, when his actions helped lead me to you?”

At last she emerged from his shirt, her face red and tear stained, her lips still swollen from how harshly Peeta had kissed her. He winced in regret and attempted to apologise.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Katniss declared with an adamant shake of her head, her ungloved palms resting on his cheeks. “You do not. I should have explained to you better before I went, but I had to tell him in person, alone, or he would never have believed me.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“The truth,” she cried and shook her head when Peeta reached to comfort her. “No, let me finish. I told him that he’d been horribly mistaken. That you do not drain life from me, Peeta. You give me hope. We lost a babe and even though I had only carried our child for a handful of months, the loss devastated me. You know this, but Gale did not. I have not even told my own mother!”

Her voice broke and her confession shocked him. Mrs. Everdeen and Miss Primrose were due to arrive here at their home within the week and Katniss had not conveyed the news? Did her mother then believe she would find her daughter close to childbirth when she arrived?

“Katniss…”

“No, please.” Peeta nodded and waited as she regathered herself. “I have always most feared losing the ones I love, and when he wrote asking if I was truly married to another, I feared he might grow angry with me and end our friendship. It did not even occur to me that our friendship was already lost when I read that letter from his lover, even if I had managed to forgive him. I could not trust him to know my heart.”

Peeta slumped in the chair and in the quiet after her admissions, found a strange sort of peace. Katniss began to kiss him. Soft touches of her lips to his forehead, his nose, his ears.

“Is there anything else I need to explain?”

“Only one thing,” he murmured. “Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?”

She went still and he risked looking up at her. A strange smile had begun to spread over her face. “Yes.”

“Well then,” he said and the last of the tension seeped from his frame. “I suppose I should admit to you that I intended to let you go. If you truly loved him and wanted to be with him, I would not have followed you.”

“Why not?” she sounded annoyed and he nearly laughed.

“Because I could not have lived with myself if I thought I was the cause of your unhappiness.”

“How could you think even for a moment that you were?”

“Because the first time you smiled, the first time you were happy after we lost the babe, was when you received that letter from Gale, telling us that he was to visit.”

She scowled at him then, the scowl that he loved. Confusion and doubt at his words, then she shook her head. “Ridiculous. That was not the first time I had felt happy afterwards.”

“Then what was?” he asked and she caressed his face, a soft smile on her lips.

“We were in the study. You had been working and I had been pretending to read, but in reality I had been weeping behind the book. Eventually, I wore myself out and fell asleep. When I woke up, you were lifting me into your arms. You carried me upstairs, undressed me, and helped me into a hot bath. You suggested we might take luncheon outside in the garden, and although all I could manage was to lay there and watch the clouds while you sketched and played with my hair, I was content. I thought that if I could find those small moments of happiness and hope with you again, and hold onto them, then one day, we might find our way back to feeling joy again.”

“Ah, these are the sort of words I have longed to hear.” Peeta had at last believed her, and slid his hand over hers, holding it in place so that he could turn his head and gently kiss her palms. “Now that we have settled we are both idiots in love and neither of us is leaving, what shall we do now?”

“Hmmm. You could request dinner be served in our room and you could take me to bed.”

“Bed? At this early hour? Countess! Are you so determined to shock the servants then?”

At this, she laughed and kissed him. “My love, I believe we have already done that today.” Her eyes moved pointedly to the desk and Peeta felt himself blushing.

“Well… then perhaps it will not be so shocking after all.”

[thehypnone]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 21

WC: 950

Relationship: SwissAlps & the kits

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Body Image Issues/Insecurity, Reassurance, Fluff

After they get all full of milk and content they get sleepy again, so Mountain puts them back into their crib. He watches them for a moment and Swiss soon joins him, gluing himself to the earth ghoul’s back and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 21 under the cut or on AO3.

For two weeks since giving birth Swiss hadn’t had a chance to look at himself in the mirror. First, he wasn’t strong enough to be up most of the time, and when he did have mostly healed, the kits kept him busy.

Now when he’s finally seeing his body, he is…disappointed.

It’s not that Swiss thought his stomach would go back to normal right away, he just never thought about how it would look after giving birth. It simply didn’t cross his mind.

From what he has looked up online, and from what Omega has told him, the way he currently looks is completely normal, and would get better with time—even faster than it would for a human—but it will never look the same way it did before he got pregnant.

Swiss doesn’t really know if he’s okay with that, but he tries to convince himself he’s still as attractive as he was, and that his stomach is only a symbol of bringing life into this world. Three precious lives.

At least the multi ghoul knows that Mountain won’t see him as less for it; it helps. And Mountain himself doesn’t spare reassurance, either.

The earth ghoul wishes Swiss could literally read his mind. His mate trusts him without that to be speaking truthfully, but if he had an unfiltered look into Mountain’s brain, he could never doubt himself ever again. 

But that is not possible, so Mountain makes due by other means.

The moment silence falls in the room, when the kits get lulled to sleep, Swiss falls into his armchair with a deep sigh. He pulls his legs up to cover himself, but he does it absentmindedly—he doesn’t even realize.

It makes Mountain a little sad; Swiss has always been so open and beaming, and now he’s hiding like this.

The earth ghoul walks up to him and kneels on the carpet before the chair, making his mate raise an eyebrow in question. He can see in Mountain’s eyes, though, that it’s not sex he wants. He places his hands on Swiss’ knees and gently pulls his legs down onto either side of him. Then, Mountain leans forward, wraps his arms around the multi ghoul’s middle and nuzzles his face into his stomach as he starts to purr.

“What are ya doin’, sweetheart?” Swiss rumbles in question, smiling faintly.

“I loved you pregnant, but I’ve missed your tummy being so soft,” Mountain replies with his face shoved all the way into said tummy, making his words barely audible. The multi ghoul giggles at that, but it’s weak and quiet—lacking his usual liveness.

Mountain doesn’t say anything more, nor does he move. He stays there, purring louder than ever as he’s genuinely enjoying the predicament he’s put himself into. At some point Swiss brings his hand to his head, to drag through his hair and scratch at his scalp.

He only pulls back—regretfully—when the kits start to wake again. The earth ghoul gets up to get them, leaving Swiss on the chair to get out of his sweater; the kits need a snack after a nap.

“Hello there, my little loves,” Mountain coos as he reaches into the crib for Aelin, who’s the first one awake. He smiles brightly as he pulls her out and brings her to his chest, holding the tiny sleepy ghoulette close. Swiss feels like he’s about to melt into a puddle as he’s watching the scene.

After a moment, though, Aelin wakes up more and starts getting wiggly and whiny, so Mountain hands her over to Swiss so he can feed her, while the other gets to the other two.

“Hi, baby,” the multi ghoul greets her, but she seems to only be interested in her mama’s boob, not him. He can live with that, he supposes.

In no time at all the other two are fully awake and latching onto Swiss as soon as Aelin’s done—she doesn’t love having either of her siblings feeding on the other side as she’s doing so, the spoiled princess that she already is.

After they’re all full of milk and content they get sleepy again, so Mountain puts them back into their crib. He watches them for a moment and Swiss soon joins him, gluing himself to the earth ghoul’s back and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

The kits are all touching each other in at least one spot and each is wrapped around a plushie—the ones they’ve gotten from Dewdrop. They fell in love with them right away, especially Amon, whose favorite thing to do is suck on his teddy bear’s ear.

Swiss grunts dramatically every time he has to touch the slobbery plushie, but he still finds his kits the most adorable ever. Adorable, but nasty at the same time; he’s so grateful to Mountain for dealing with most of their…mess.

Swiss did not know how poopy kits are.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he loves them so much, it’s practically insane; he feels like a man possessed.

The multi ghoul can’t stop himself from grinning as he watches both of Arya’s tiny hands holding onto her siblings’ tails—each in one hand. She has taken a particular liking to the fluffy tip of Amon’s, because the fins on Aelin’s are a little too spikey to play with.

That doesn’t stop the small ghoulette from trying, though; barely two weeks old and she’s already following Swiss’ steps of being the designated menace.

He can’t wait to run around setting fires with the little ghoulette on his shoulders, cheering.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus @ghoultrifle (if anyone from here wants to be removed lmk, and also if anyone else wants to be added)

[wtfaniii]

The Other Woman

Summary: The personification of the dream in love with the angel of death, it sounds lovely until a new girl appears in the Grim Reaper's life, forcing the beautiful dream to turn into a nightmare.

Warnings: Obsession, some things are not canon, I will only use the main characters, angst, drama.

N/A: Why is there so little of Grim Reaper??? I wanted to read something about him but in the end I wanted to write something to get rid of this dream I have about him, I haven't checked this yet so sorry for any spelling mistakes

The Grim Reaper x fem reader Cosmic entity

The soft sound of the wind blowing the leaves of the trees was like a lullaby for the deep sleep in which the city was immersed.

In the midst of the silence of a room, you were standing at the foot of a bed with a soft smile adorning your lips.

—¿You know? —Kim Shin's sudden voice almost made you jump in fright —Some people find it creepy to be watched at night while they sleep.

You brought a finger to your lips indicating for him to remain silent, you looked towards the grim reaper's bed and let out a sigh when you saw that he hadn't moved at all.

That man slept like a rock, completely covered by the sheet and the position in which he slept almost looked like a corpse and that generated genuine interest in you.

—¿What are you doing awake? You should be enjoying the dream I made for you —You said with a mischievous smile.

As the creator of dreams, you were in charge of making each and every one of the fantasies that anyone has while sleeping, sometimes were beautiful, other times were horrible, that depended on your mood and in this case, how much affection you had for them.

You liked the goblin, but sometimes he drove you crazy, that's why now him woke up from nightmares in which he fell into the void over and over again.

The complete opposite of the angel who slept peacefully in the bed in front of you, you prepared beautiful dreams for him every day for centuries.

—I don't know why you're trying so hard, he'll forget about it as soon as he wakes up anyway —Kim Shin said before returning to his room.

Maybe he was right, your beautiful angel sometimes forgot about your work as soon as he woke up but for you it was enough to feel him happiness and peace every night.

You laughed internally at the thought that God had been wrong about your supposed punishment.

This was not a punishment for you.

It was a perfect immortal life, you didn't know how but ever since you can remember you were captivated by him, it was impossible to stop smiling like a fool every time he was in front of you.

You smiled once more before turning into golden dust and fluttering above him head, entering his dream.

It was a beautiful meadow full of flowers, the soft sunlight passed through the trees leaving a beautiful scene.

But your eyes fell on the man standing a few steps ahead of you, feeding a deer with a soft smile.

—I thank you for this dream... —He said sincerely turning to look at you.

—It's not a big deal —You said making a carefree gesture with your hand but he approached you and took it —I like making these dreams for you...

—And that's why I thank you —he added, leaving a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

That act almost made your legs weak.

He knew everything you did for him and he adored it, only you were able to transmit to him the peace he longed for without needing to go to heaven, your dreams were a gift every night and no, he never forgot them.

The feeling between you was almost mutual.

The angel of death appreciated you, more than he would like to admit, sometimes he thought about how it would feel to kiss you but he still didn't know when or how to do it.

For him, dreams were even more beautiful when you were in them, the night was the only time when the two of you could talk without being bothered by Kim Shin or Deok Hwa.

It was perfect, even the grim reaper thought he was ready to take the next step and kiss you, tell you everything he felt.

But she appeared.

—¿What's wrong? —You asked curiously when the angel stood up from the table irritated after having frozen until he broke the plate of his food.

Deok Hwa was startled when you suddenly appeared next to him.

—¿Why don't you walk? ¡That would be much better than just appearing and disappearing!

—¿What's wrong? —You asked once again ignoring him complaint.

—He is confused because he cried in front of a woman for no apparent reason.

—¿Did he cry? ¿Why did he cry? ¿Did she do something to him? ¿Who is she?

Your questions came out one after another, you didn't want him to feel that way, you had put so much effort into making him immortality more beautiful for someone to come and make him cry for no apparent reason.

Deok Hwa didn't notice your concern so he continued telling you about the little he knew, he even made that movement with his lips that the grim reaper had made before referring to that girl.

A kiss.

That girl had shamelessly sent him a kiss.

You pressed your lips into a straight line and disappeared into the golden sparkles.

From that day on you felt something different between you and the angel, you didn't know what it was, but you knew who was causing it, you were quite sensitive and before knew it, you were already tormenting that poor girl with nightmares.

It wasn't on purpose, you just let yourself be blinded by your own jealousy, you had worked hard to win him over and now another woman came along to catch him attention.

You felt it was unfair.

And every night it only got worse, for her the nights of nightmares and insomnia were eternal, for him were nights in which he took pills to sleep deeply and not dream and for you, for you it was as if your heart was breaking every moment.

You stopped talking to him and occasionally you would appear in his room to try to make him dream but it was impossible, with the pills he was taking it was very difficult to introduce your beautiful dreams that you had made for him.

Until one day your heart broke completely.

You didn't know why but you decided to follow him, rarely did it but this time your instinct told you to do it.

However, you deeply wished you hadn't, he had been looking for that girl and then taking her out for coffee.

She was beautiful, you had to admit that, ¿what did she have that you didn't?

When you saw him smile genuinely at that girl's laughter, you knew immediately that the only one left out there was you.

So without saying a word you let out a tear that ran down your cheek and then you disappeared.

He sensed your presence and turned his head towards the cafe window, only managing to see small golden flashes fading away.

—¿And how have you been? —Sunny asked curiously —I hope better than me, I haven't been able to sleep lately, I always have nightmares.

Her words caught him attention.

—¿Nightmares?

—Of all kinds —Her complained regretfully.

He swallowed and looked back at the window, he knew it was you and he also knew the reason but refused to accept it.

[...]

Korea was chaos.

The sleeping pills in all the pharmacies were out of stock, and all because the nightmares were more recurrent than usual; no one could sleep without waking up screaming or crying in the middle of the night.

—You must do something to stop her —Kim Shin spoke complaining for the third time as he took his drink away from the grim reaper —Get up, go and tell your little girlfriend to solve her problems.

—She's not my girlfriend —He said seriously, sighing.

—¡Whatever! Just talk to her —the Goblin insisted, almost pleading for not having had a good dream as he should have.

—¡Please! Hallway uncle, I want to sleep —Deok Hwa said now, dramatizing his crying.

Finally he gave in and stood up to go find you.

It wasn't difficult for him, he knew you well enough to know your favorite place where you made dreams.

Arriving at that small abandoned library, he saw you sitting on the floor with a crystal sphere in front of you.

—¿What are you doing here? —You asked without taking your eyes off that sphere.

The grim reaper evaded your question and approached you cautiously, he knew the reason for your current mood and felt somewhat bad about it but he was also confused about his feelings and hoped that you could understand him.

—The nightmares must stop —He said seriously, looking down at that sphere that so tempted you to be trapped —You are causing disappointments, accidents and problems among mortals.

—Well... they have to understand that not everything will be rainbows and good news.

He watched you silently as you lifted the crystal sphere and placed it on one of the shelves.

—¿What is this?

—A dream about my past life... —You whispered.

—¿Can you know who you were before this time? —The Grim Reaper asked in surprise and disbelief —¿As?

The angel was more than impressed, he wanted to know about his past life, his name, his date of birth, everything and seeing you having a possible answer to his doubts was incredible.

—I just did it... but I don't want to see it —When you turned on your heels he was already right behind you, making you jump a little in fright —¡¿What's wrong with you?! ¡You should wear a bell!

—¿Aren't you curious to know who you were before this?

—¡No! ¡I don't want to know anything about that!, ¡or this! ¡or you!

He kept quiet and let you yell at him until you got tired, he truly hated himself for doing this to you and that was why he felt so frustrated, maybe if he knew more about his past he would know why that girl named Sunny had a big effect on him just like you.

You kept screaming and moving in circles in front of him, you were angry and sad, it was noticeable but he didn't hear anything you said until the words "I loved you" left your lips.

—¿Did you... love me? —What a stupid question, of course you did, it was always clear but he refused to see it.

—¡And I thought it was mutual! —You shouted at him one last time with tears held back in your eyes —But that pretty girl with light hair and a beautiful smile did what haven't been able to do in years except in my dreams.

—¿What?

—Make you smile.

It was torture, you made him smile several times in his dreams and with a lot of work but she, she could do it just by laughing.

—Just go away please —You asked in a low and broken voice, and before he could stop you, you had already vanished among golden sparkles.

[wtfisgoingonirl]

Why I got on the ship, why I am still on it and why everybody is entitled to their opinion

I have read the Lukola tag on tumblr since spring last year as a guest and just signed up a few days ago. I’m not into sm at all. I like real life. But in this matter, I have something to contribute, bc the thoughts of bloggers helped me to get rid of negative emotions surrounding this topic. I’m not a native speaker of the english language, so I will try my best to describe what my motivation for getting on and staying on the ship was and is.

Probably like most of you, I was introduced to Pen and Colin in S1 of Bton. It seemed like a fun show. In episode one, while witnessing their interactions in the ballroom scene, I was intrigued by our very beloved Polin. I remember pausing the show bc I needed to know if there could be a romance between those two characters and I learned about the books and bought the ebook of Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. 

While this type of Novell is not my cup of tea, I still decided to read it bc I was eager to know the outcome of their story.

Continuing the show I was so struck by the chemistry of Pen and Colin, that I suspected the actress and actor playing them could actually be a couple in real life. So I did another research online to learn about them, their projects and, bc I was curious, about their privat life. At the time Mr. Luke Newton was dating his gf Jade and Mrs. Nicola Coughlan‘s love life was a mistery.

Even while watching S1 and S2 my interest was pinned on the interactions of our beloved Polin. And as soon as Netflix announced S3 will be Polin season, I was happy! While I got impatient for waiting for the release of Polin season, I started searching the internet for news. Oh boy, why did I do that? I learned about the breakup of Jade and Luke during filming of season 3. HBS in 2023 and that WT just started.

I watched every single Interview I could find on YT and was flabbergasted. There was so much chemistry! It was on another level. Now I was convinced they were secretly dating. I knew they were co-workers and good friends and the only thing I could think of, was that they finally fell in love on set of S3. 

I was waiting for some confirmation of N and L being together. Instead the Instyle article about L and A dating was released. What? WTF!? You kidding me? No way! Is this a rebound situation? 

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. What did I whiteness till then? Had N and L been the goods of PR, just selling the new season? I was lost, but couldn’t let go. Maybe dating A was just a rumor. So I continued watching clips and interviews paying more attention to details. There I was, I had already boarded the SS Lukola without realizing it. Surrounded by the endless ocean there was no escape. I was addicted. 

While searching, I found more information on tumblr. Thanks to all the great bloggers and all the helpful comments, I felt better immediately. Great, there are partners in crime. All willing to share their thoughts, opinions and information.

The last year was so much fun reading it. I simply loved it! Until a few weeks ago… People startet to hate on each others opinions viciously. A ridiculous war got in play. Ruthless enemies, former Lukolas now Ankes, Jakolas and even the Lukola-endgamers were bitching on the Lukola tag. Fighting over an opinion based on different views of events. Senseless hating on the others, especially the ones who were still on the ship believing in Lukolas bond. That kind of behavior didn’t make any sense to me. What’s the problem? Why not let the others be? Why does everybody want to convince the opposition? Blogs started hiding because their opinion got unpopular. What a shame! 

I think all of us can freely have our own opinions and conclusions of events. I do not care about trolls. I strongly believe Nic and Luke are a married couple since last autumn. I even think there could be a surprise on the way. Yes, I said that. I am fully aware I could be totally wrong and all the assumptions I made bc of several incidents (for example actions on the WT, comments in interviews, chaos week, claddah ring, total silence of Lukey Newts in the last few month) are false. 

And if they are: Nothing bad will happen. As long as you only have an assumption and you do not hate on someone, especially Nic and Luke, everything is fine. The only toxic thing is people hyping things up and making it about themselves. By not accepting that another person is allowed to have a different opinion, weather you like it or not, you are a part of the problem. The question is how all of us handle emotions that come with other ppl not sharing our believes.

If tomorrow is the day we get a video of Luke singing ‚Happy Birthday’ to A on a beach in Cyprus and telling the world that she is his most beloved gf, then so be it. We all would be relieved of the burden of not knowing. If that happens, I will still ask: „Who is Nic‘s husband?“ (I suppose his name is not Bert). Bc as nice of a young man Jake seems to be, I would be utterly surprised if it is him, but also would be able to accept a romantic involvement.

Touches, kisses on cheeks, holding hands, putting you arm around, sitting or standing next to someone, going for dinner together, wearing the same hoodie or hat, sitting in someones kitchen or living room, going together on vacation, bathing in the ocean together, sunbathing on a hotel balcony, buying groceries and all the other usual things probably all of us did with a friend are sadly not a confirmation of a romantic relationship. So we still do not know who is with whom. We are only assuming a certain connection by evaluating the main clues.

I will stay on the ship until there is any confirmation of N or L regarding another partner or I see actual proof with my own eyes. And it has to be a picture of one of them french kissing another person or any sort of declaration of N or L! In the meantime everyone is entitled to think whatever they want to be true!

What do you assume, believe or wish?

Shipping doesn’t have to be tough. Leaving a ship is not a crime. I will probably gracefully leave at the next stop if there will be confirmation that N and L are with other ppl. Then the Endgamers will have more space and staying is also fine. I simply believe if N and L did not get together on the WT they are just friends… but who knows?

Do you want to know why I think Luke is not showing up? Because Nic wants to keep their relationship private, as she seemingly always did in the past. While he seems to be such a genuine guy who would love showing his relationship to the world, as he always did in the past, but simply got so much hate for everything he was doing that he is preferring to hide. This is also just a theory, again, I could be totally wrong. We will see.

Till then remember: Trying to insult each other is not supporting your argument. Nobody has to agree with anybody! Also nobody has to argue with anybody! Just share your opinion respectfully and enjoy the possibility of exchanging information with others on this platform. A little sarcasm is therefore essential.

Stay strong! Peace✌️