#do you have any idea how hard its been to keep this quiet for SIX MONTHS

[metalsonicscraps]

In exactly one week I get to post my Sonic Big Bang Fic and the wonderful art that goes with it >:3

I'm so excited!

(What is the Sonic Big Bang? Check it out here-> https://www.tumblr.com/sthbigbang)

[sylusonychinus]

Episode Six : A Storm Brewing

Series Masterlist Next Episode

The quiet hum of the morning was shattered by the sharp ringing of a phone.

[Reader]’s mother frowned as she glanced at the caller ID, her ex-husband’s name flashing across the screen. With a sigh, she picked up.

"What do you want?" she asked, already exasperated.

"Why didn’t you tell me our daughter is working in aviation?!" he barked on the other end. "Do you have any idea how hard this is making things for Liana?"

Her grip on the phone tightened. "And why exactly is that my problem?"

"Because it’s embarrassing!" he spat. "People are comparing them! Liana worked hard to be where she is, and now they’re saying that she—"

"Oh, please," she cut him off, her voice cold. "You don’t get to act like a father now. You never cared about [Reader], so don’t pretend you suddenly have an opinion about her career."

"I am her father—"

"No, you’re Liana’s father," she snapped. "You made that clear when you walked away from us. You have no say in her life."*

The silence on the other end was deafening.

"Stay out of this," she warned. "And tell your precious daughter to deal with her own insecurities."*

With that, she hung up, anger simmering in her chest.

Across town, Liana Reyes sat in a trendy café, lazily stirring her iced coffee as she listened to Marissa rant about her latest grievances.

"—and then he had the audacity to say he wasn’t interested. Can you believe that?" Marissa huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Liana, only half-listening, hummed in fake sympathy. "Men are idiots."*

Marissa rolled her eyes before scrolling through her phone. She stopped suddenly, her fingers tightening around the device. "Oh. My. God."*

"What?" Liana asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Marissa turned the screen towards her. "Tara went to a wedding last month. Look who got married."*

Liana’s brows knitted together as she leaned in—only for her expression to twist in fury when she saw the photos.

"You’re kidding," she seethed.

[Reader]. And Caleb Xia.

Married.

"That little—" Liana set her cup down with a loud clink, gripping her phone with enough force that her nails nearly dug into the case.

"And she didn’t even invite you?" Marissa added, feigning shock. "Wow. Your own sister."*

Liana’s jaw clenched. "She really thought she could keep this from me?"

Her fingers hovered over her phone before she dialed a familiar number.

The line rang twice before [Reader] picked up. "Liana?"

"Meet me at Belleview Café. Now," Liana ordered.

A pause. "Why?"

"Because we need to talk about why I wasn’t invited to your wedding, dear sister," she sneered.

[Reader] exhaled sharply. "I don’t have time for this, Liana."*

"Make time," Liana snapped. "Or I’ll make sure everyone knows that you’re the daughter of a mistress."*

Silence.

Liana smirked. "See you soon."*

She ended the call, sitting back in her seat with satisfaction.

"She’s on her way," she mused, crossing her arms. "Let’s see if our golden sister can handle this one."*

Marissa giggled. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

The café was cozy, filled with the quiet hum of conversation and the scent of roasted coffee beans. But despite its warm atmosphere, the tension at one particular table was thick enough to cut with a knife.

[Reader] sat across from Liana, her fingers clenched into fists beneath the table as she listened to her so-called sister drone on.

"I just can’t believe you would do something so selfish," Liana scoffed, taking a delicate sip of her overpriced latte. "Marrying Caleb Xia of all people?"*

"Selfish?" [Reader] repeated, raising a brow. "How is marrying my husband selfish?"

"Because," Liana leaned in, her voice dripping with condescension. "You don’t deserve him."*

Marissa, sitting beside her, smirked. "I mean, let’s be real. You’re not exactly his type, are you?"

"Right!" Liana sighed dramatically. "Caleb is successful, charming, handsome. He’s been my friend for years. Honestly, he and I would have been the perfect couple."*

[Reader]’s patience was wearing thin. "Then why aren’t you together?"

Liana’s expression faltered for a split second before she scoffed. "Because you sunk your claws into him first."*

Marissa nodded eagerly. "You’re a nobody, [Reader]. You really think Caleb married you because he loves you? He probably felt pity for you."*

Something inside [Reader] snapped.

She grabbed the glass of water in front of her and, without hesitation, threw it straight at Liana’s face.

A gasp rippled through the café as cold water splashed all over Liana’s perfectly styled hair and designer blouse.

Liana let out a shriek, her hands flying up to her face. "You—!"*

"Oops," [Reader] said flatly, setting the now-empty glass back on the table. "Must’ve slipped."*

Marissa gasped, eyes wide in shock. "You bitch!"

Liana slammed her palms onto the table, seething. "Marissa, hold her down."*

Marissa immediately reached for [Reader], grabbing her arms to restrain her.

"You think you can humiliate me like this?!" Liana spat, raising a hand to slap her. "You’re nothing, you hear me? Nothing!"

But before her palm could make contact—

[Reader] was suddenly ripped from Marissa’s grasp.

"Let. Her. Go."*

The voice was cold. Dangerous.

Liana froze, her raised hand trembling slightly as she turned to see Caleb Xia standing behind [Reader], his grip firm on her wrist.

"C-Caleb?" Liana stammered.

Marissa’s smug expression instantly vanished as she let go of [Reader] like she had been burned.

[Reader], still shaken, looked up at him in shock. "Caleb?"

He had followed her.

Earlier, when [Reader] had taken the call from Liana, Caleb had just stepped out of the bathroom. He had overheard everything. When he asked where she was going, she had brushed him off, saying she was just heading downstairs.

But he hadn’t believed her.

And now, standing here, hearing every vile thing Liana had just said—his patience was gone.

His gaze flickered to Liana, his jaw clenched. "You’re seriously still like this, huh?"

Liana swallowed hard. "I—Caleb, you don’t understand, she—"

"I understand just fine."* His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it. "And for the record? I was never interested in you."*

Liana’s eyes widened, her breath hitching. "W-what?"

"Not in high school. Not in flight school. Never." His grip on [Reader] tightened protectively. "I don’t know what delusion you’ve been living in, but my life? My choices? They were never about you."*

Silence.

Liana stood there, humiliated, her lips slightly parted like she wanted to argue—but for the first time in her life, she had nothing to say.

"Come on," Caleb murmured, gently pulling [Reader] towards the exit. "We’re leaving."*

And with that, they walked out—leaving Liana Reyes and Marissa alone in their embarrassment.

The moment they stepped back into their apartment, [Reader] pulled her wrist free from Caleb’s grasp and bolted for her room.

But Caleb was faster.

Just as she reached for the doorknob, his hand landed on the wood, stopping her from going inside.

"Oh, no you don’t," he said firmly.

She clenched her jaw. "Move, Caleb."*

"Not until you answer me," he countered, his tone unusually serious. "What would’ve happened if I wasn’t there on time?"

She looked away, arms crossing over her chest. "I could’ve handled it."*

"Really?" Caleb raised a brow. "Because from what I saw, Liana and Marissa were seconds away from ganging up on you."*

"I threw a drink at her first," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "I started it. I can finish it."*

Caleb exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face before leaning down slightly, forcing her to meet his eyes. "[Reader], listen to me. You don’t have to deal with this alone."*

She swallowed. "It’s not like you’ll always be around."*

"That’s what I’m saying—" He sighed, pressing his palm flat against the door beside her head. "If something happens, call me. I don’t care where I am, what I’m doing—call me. Because I’m your husband."*

She blinked up at him, his words sinking in.

Husband.

The weight of it still felt unreal sometimes.

After a beat, she let out a small breath and nodded. "Okay… I promise."*

Caleb studied her expression before sighing and stepping back, giving her space. "Good."*

Then, his usual playful smirk returned. "Now, on a much lighter note—dinner."*

She raised a brow. "Dinner?"

"Yeah. A few of my friends from the airline are meeting up tonight. Come with me."*

"You mean a pilot gathering?"

"Something like that," he shrugged. "It’ll be fun. You should get to know them."*

She hesitated. "I don’t know…"

"C’mon, [Reader]." He gave her a knowing look. "You can’t just hide in your room after throwing water at your sister. Celebrate your victory."*

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back a small smile. "Fine, I’ll go. Just let me change."*

Caleb grinned. "That’s the spirit."*

A few minutes later, [Reader] emerged from her room wearing a short skirt and a simple white blouse.

Caleb, who had been waiting in the living room, looked up—and immediately raised a brow.

"Are you dressing like that for me or my friends?" he teased, his eyes flickering over her outfit.

She scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. "Neither. I just felt like wearing this."*

He smirked, stepping closer. "Right. Of course."*

She gave him a pointed look. "Do you have a problem with it?"

"Not at all," he said smoothly. "In fact, I fully support this choice."*

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse. "Let’s just go before I change my mind."*

Caleb chuckled, placing a hand on the small of her back as they headed out.

The dinner was held at a high-end steakhouse near the airport, where several of Caleb’s airline friends had already gathered.

The atmosphere was lively—full of laughter, teasing, and the occasional talk about flight routes and emergency landings.

But there was one person who didn’t seem thrilled about [Reader]’s presence.

Mark.

He had been close with Liana during training and was clearly on her side. Throughout the evening, he made little side comments, subtle digs aimed at [Reader].

"So," he mused after taking a sip of his drink. "Marrying into the aviation industry, huh? That’s one way to stay relevant."*

[Reader] tightened her grip on her fork, but before she could respond, Caleb shot Mark a sharp look. "Watch it."*

Mark raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, man. Just making conversation."*

[Reader] exhaled slowly and placed her napkin on the table. "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom."*

She needed to cool off before she actually threw something at him.

But the moment she stepped out of the restroom, she saw Mark standing near the entrance, scrolling through his phone.

Her eyes narrowed.

Perfect.

She walked up to him, voice cool and calm. "You have something to say to me, Mark?"

He looked up, smirking. "Just surprised, that’s all. Never thought Caleb would settle for—"

"For me?" she cut him off, tilting her head. "You mean someone who actually knows how to do her job? Or someone who doesn’t cling to him like a desperate high schooler?"

His smirk faltered. "Look, I didn’t mean—"

"No, go on," she crossed her arms. "Because I find it funny how you’re talking so much when Liana isn’t even here to defend herself."*

Mark cleared his throat. "I was just looking out for—"

"For what?" she raised a brow. "For your friend or your own misplaced bitterness?"

He looked away, jaw tightening.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "If you have an issue with me, be a man and say it to my face. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut."*

Mark let out a slow breath before finally muttering, "Fine. My bad."*

"Glad we understand each other."*

And with that, she walked back to the table, leaving him standing there in silence.

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @kithyyy @mcdepressed290 @nezuswritingdesk @elegantdeerlady @yuuuumii @duhgurl @lumieresdreams @bidisasterforevermore @i-messed-up-big-time

@that-one-scoundrel @justpassingdontworry @ansbobcar @nagireos @auriuswolve @bookworm1999 @sickleddreamer @heeknow

[lilithwii]

LITTLE BIG LADY! ✃

장면 𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 stylist!rea fluff, swearing, banter 1.7𝒦 LILITHS STASH enjoy!

LILITHS MAILBOX, heeyyy guysss its been a while but im back and trying to write for real ppl i actually hated writing this but i really liked the idea i used sooooo yeah kinda shyt writing but its alr ok bai

Having to try new things wasnt something terrifying like all your friends said. At least, thats what you thought. In desperate need of a job, you were willing to do anything. But to get hired as a stylist for a kpop group? you never thought you would go down that lane in life. Did you care? nope. Did you only look at the pay? yep. So now, six in the morning, you were stuck in a fancy building with a clipboard and the manager trying to explain to you what to do.

It wasnt that hard to understand, its not like youre stupid. But the second you stepped into the room with all the members to meet, you thought that maybe you might have had a few screws loose. Because even Changbin, who you were just introduced to that had a huge smile on his face, also known as the shortest member, was a head taller than you. And every other member, all men, twice your size, biceps bigger than your head, seemed just as terrifying.

When you skipped over the terms and conditions about the job, like any other normal person on earth would, you also skipped how long you had to stay for the job. 6 months. Minimum. To say that now you might have been a bit stupid, was way too late.

Day after day and after a few performances, you got the hang of it. Colors were organized differently, certain clothing pieces, accessories, all that. The worst part was when you had to actually style the clothes on the members. Changbin was easy with his height, but you gave him a new ego boost with your height. Bangchan was professional and really nice when he did talk, but had a major staring problem. Han was also really nice and made a bunch of jokes around you to make the area more carefree, but he also made a few flirty jokes, that made you short circuit. Seungmin is nice and quiet, but it also just overall scary, since you do see how much of a menace he is with the other members. Felix is the absolute best, but you jump whenever your focused and he suddenly decides to tell you something with his deep voice, which happens often. Leeknow is quiet and almost never looks at you, but sometimes you forget hes not just a mannequin with how stiff he is and poke him on accident. I.n is just the cutest in your opinion, but he never really tells you if he feels uncomfortable in a piece you put him in, so its kind of difficult.

And then theres Hyunjin. Taller than the empire state. You have to constantly tell him to go on his knees for you to fix the collarbone of his shirt and everything else, and he laughs about it. Every singe time. Youll motion for him to lean down, and he will, but youll always hear a silent giggle from him. When you look over, he always has some smirk on his face while trying to hold in his laugh. You wanted to sew his mouth shut to never hear his little chuckle again. And then, two months into the job, he started teasing you for being so short compared to him.

All staff were gathered into a large area with the members to understand how the performance would go. You stood next to Hyunjin, ignoring him, until he let out a yawn and put his elbow on your head and leaned onto you. You stayed for a moment and processed what he was doing. And then stuck your finger nail into his exposed side over and over again which resulted into him curling away and gigglied at you tickling him. “Asshole!” you whisper yelled at him and then finalized your counter attack by pushing him away completely and going to stand behind your other staff friend, while he smiled down at you trying to keep his laugh in.

When you tried to reach up to grab a piece of fabric to use for one of Hyunjins pieces, and you couldnt reach. You stretched out as much as you could until you just huffed and started climbing onto the table. Out of nowhere, a hand went up and grabbed the fabric for you and you paused. Hyunjin handed you the fabric with a smug look on his face, and you just furrowed your eyebrows and muttered a silent thank you, then harshly pointing back to the stand for him to get back up on to finish pinning the designer shirt. He didnt say anything, didnt laugh, but you could see his smirk from a mile away. Short people really were as angry and ferocious as everyone said, is what he thought.

Countless times did Hyunjin find himself worrying about smile line wrinkles when he was with you. And everytime that he had to open his mouth, you responded. Poking him with a needle, smacking his arm, tugging on a piece tight enough to bother him right before fixing it again, it was endless. You looked forward to the end of this temporary job after every encounter with him, but deep down, it felt empty when you went about your day and a more professional stylist was switched with you for a photoshoot. But Hyunjin only noticed the difference in height when it came to a different stylist, right? did he, really? you thought he did.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was overflowing with boredom. He was anxious before a performance again, which he hadnt felt in a long while. The reason? you werent there to make him laugh while trying different colors on him to see which one complimented him the best, which he would then tease you again and you would probably say that no color could help him with his face. He had his other members to laugh with all day long, but without you, he couldnt deny the dull of colors around him. But you were probably the one to put the request of a different stylist, right? did you, really? he thought you did.

Next time, you were finally back in business. Having finished all other membes checks, Hyunjin sauntered into your work room with a blanked out face, quickly turning to a smile when he saw you this time. He didnt say anything yet, but just silently walked with a hidden sense of pride behind his steps to the stand. “Whats the issue?” you asked him while pricking a few needles onto your pad attached to your wrist. You walked up in front of him and set your hands onto your hips, bending your neck back to look at his face. He looked around with a raised brow and a smirk, acting as if he couldnt find you. “The waist part of my shirt flies around too much while dancing, and its supposed to be a tight fit to match with the theme…” he said. A vein appeared on your forehead but you forced yourself to ignore him and get to satisfying your client. You sighed, letting all of your anger out, and then began to focus.

Your hand trailed up to find the silky black dress shirt that Hyunjin wore, tugging at the parts that hover around his waist. You pull it towards his back, making yourself closer to his chest. You look up at him, and his breath hitched when he looked down back at you, his cockiness suddenly vanishing. “Is this tight enough?” you asked, then letting go of one side and walking to stand behind him, grabbing the piece again from the back to let him see in the mirror if he preferred it the way you were showing him. His small wasit could easily be spotted with the change. You peeked over from behind him, finding the fitting much better than the previous one. Hyunjin swallowed, big, and then answered. “Yea- yeah- its good, its good…” he nodded to you. You grabbed a few pins and stuck then into his shirt. About to send him off so that you could then turn to actually sewing the shirt for him to like it, he stopped you.

“Oh- and something keeps pinching me from this tie…” he quickly said, his hand going up to the collar and stretching it out just a bit where it bothered him. You walked up to the front and waved your hands down so that he would bend over and you could look, just for a flash of realization to pass across his face along with a smirk right after. He looked down at you, and raised a brow. “What? cant reach?” he asked, a spill of smugness dripping from his words. That vein from before? popped right back out and your brows furrowed. Your hands clenched into fits for a second, before you harshly reached up and tugged on his tie to force him to lean down. He yelped and dropped a foot down onto the floor, noses almost brushing. His eyes were wide and his face quickly changed into a bright pink, looking into your bored ones. You pulled his tie off in one swiff motion and then walked away to a small table nearby to inspect what might have been pinching him.

Hyunjin let out a breath he didnt know he had been holding after a few more seconds, trying to ignore his fast heartbeat going 190 mph in his ears. You, were too busy dragging your fingers over the inside of the tie to find a small sharp piece of plastic peaking out. You carefully took ahold of it and pulled it out. You took in a silent breath to not lose your mind, keeping your composure. You smiled, taking the tie and walking back to Hyunjin, finding him looking anywhere but you and stood back up on the stand. You looked up at him, and immediately he leaned down for you to slide the white tie around his neck and fix it without having to tell him. You also dragged a quick finger from top to middle to unbutton his dress shirt in one swift motion. He quickly stiffened, breath stuck and fast heartbeat returning, and you took a step back to admire your work. “Thats all.” you said, and waved your hand to motion him towards the door. Once you did, you quickly turned away to hide the red creeping up your neck. Hyunjins hand bunched his dress pants in anticipation and he slowly walked to the door yet lingered for a moment before it clicked shut, and then you were left alone in the silence of your thoughts and your quickened heartbeat.

LILITHWII © 2025

[drabbles-by-branwen]

Jim didn't get himself. Romantically he was only attracted to men, but every time he'd try to get physical he was unable to do so. Physically women he had no trouble with, but he couldn't form any romantic connections with one. He tried, he tried so damn hard to find someone who he could have the connection he desperately craved. He refused to lead people on, to get their hopes up and be unable to be who or what they needed. He was just lonely, so damn lonely.

He flirted, and acted a good game, and wished he was normal and could have a real relationship, but something inside was broken.

The first few months at the academy he developed a reputation of hopping from bed to bed, and hated every single second of it. He just wanted someone who was his, someone he was capable of both loving and wanting physically, and the constant attempts to find his person drained him.

His roommate didn't know what he was going through, he'd hidden what he was doing and feeling with jokes and half-flirty words and just plain avoiding him on days that Bones was too observant for his liking.

There was always this tingling sensation ever since he arrived at the Academy. It wasn't unpleasant, in fact it made him feel great, but he had no idea what was causing the sensation. He tried to ignore the feeling, as well as the whispers about him that were running rampant across campus. He'd be dead of dehydration and starvation if he was as "active" as the rumors stated.

He'd started spending most of his time in a quiet corner of the library, not wanting to risk his heart any more than he already had. He was tired and lonely and feeling isolated, but no one understood what he was going through, how could they when he didn't even understand it himself.

There was someone sitting in his usual place when he arrived that day, the tingling almost painful with its intensity. The man was a professor, as his uniform showed, but he didn't seem that much older than him. Jim turned to leave, not wanting to confront the person who stole "his" spot, deciding to just go back to his dorm and Bones' questions, something Jim was trying to avoid.

"Don't leave," the man said in a voice that sent chills down his body and a surge of arousal to settle at his groin. "You feel it also, don't you. The bond begging for completion, like little shocks of electricity coursing over your body."

"How..."

"You came to the Academy six months ago."

Jim nodded silently.

"It started as soon as you arrived, didn't it?"

"How can you know that? I've never told anyone about it. Especially not my roommate, he's a great guy but give him a vaguely medical mystery and he's all over it."

"Because I felt it as soon as you arrived. I have been attempting to locate you the whole time. But since I don't know your name, it's been difficult."

"Jim, my name is James Kirk, but my friends call me Jim."

"Jim," the name was whispered in a breathy purr that almost made Jim moan. He was standing, and in Jim's personal space in seconds, "My name is Spock."

Jim shuddered, his pulse racing, "Are you the reason? Are you why I'm so broken?"

Lips brushed against his ear, "You're not broken, Jim. Your mind and body were keeping you... keeping you from bonding with someone else."

"Why?" Jim gasped, closing his eyes in pleasure and slight embarrassment at the way his own voice sounded.

"Because you are mine. As I've been yours, for almost my entire life. I've been searching for you since I was three years old."

"How old..."

"I'll be 26 in another day. Twenty-three years of looking and I have finally found you."

Jim didn't know what to think, his body was overwhelmed with pleasure and contentment and relief at finally understanding just what his issue was. He felt a sense of arousal unlike anything he'd felt before, and the sense of home he'd never felt. Spock was barely touching him, the only skin contact his lips which still brushed his ear. Spock's hands ran down the sleeves of Jim's uniform, stopping just before reaching his hands.

"Why me?" Jim asked, needing answers.

"I don't know, Jim, all I know is that you are it for me. The only being in the galaxy who completes me," his hands finally touched Jim's, and they both gasped at the rush of emotions that raced back and forth between them, "and I am the only one who can complete you. You can feel that, can't you?"

Jim closed his eyes, overwhelmed by sensations and emotions. He gasped as Spock's fingers trailed over his own, and his knees almost gave out as he was struck by an orgasm out of nowhere. He panted loudly, body shaking as pleasure coursed through his veins, only staying on his feet because Spock was holding him upright, and he could tell that Spock was in the same condition as he was by the way his body trembled against Jim's back, the way his breathing had changed.

"This isn't the best place... I mean anyone could walk in and see us like this."

Spock nuzzled his neck, "I know, but I don't want to let you go. I finally have you in my arms and I am loath to let you go, even to find somewhere more private."

Jim would have answered, but the door opened, and a very annoyed looking Bones walked in, whatever complaint he had for Jim dying on his lips as he saw their embrace.

"Figured it out, did you?" he asked, giving Jim a pointed look. "With how twitchy you've been I figured it was a case of accidental bonding."

"You knew? You could have said something sooner. I could have... I don't know, I could have asked Captain Pike to have a Vulcan check me out, to try and figure out what was going on."

"Jim, I thought you... At first I thought you were a widower, that you'd lost your bondmate. But over time I figured out that you didn't even realize that you were bonded. How the hell was I supposed to broach that topic? You refuse to talk."

"He didn't know. How could he, Dr.," Spock asked, "as we've been bonded practically our entire lives. He's never known anything else." He gave a soft kiss to the side of Jim's neck, "And I was only days before my third birthday when it happened, so it wasn't my fault."

"Bones, just... Spock and I need to talk, to figure out what we're going to do. Let's just call this a belated birthday present, and you and I can talk later."

Bones nodded, stepping towards the door, but paused before he reached it, "When exactly is your birthday?"

"Tomorrow," Spock answered distractedly, most of his attention still on Jim.

"Two days after Jim's. How long before your third birthday did you... did you notice the bond?"

"Two days..."

Jim's eyes widened in realization, "We bonded when I was born. How can that happen?"

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out together."

Jim nodded slowly, then took Spock's hand in his own, "But right now..."

"We should go to my apartment. It's closer and... private."

They walked away, both lost in each other, and for the first time since he'd met Jim Bones knew the kid was going to be okay.

[azzie-beastbinder]

Late Night Calls

Her communicator was ringing. Nari permitted herself a single groan before she reached over and answered it. With it being one in the morning, there was only one person it could have been.

Satoru’s voice was quiet and firm. It lacked the rough edge of steel it typically had when he was dealing with the gang. “Nari. We need to talk.”

“Boss? Do you know how late it is-”

“I’m aware, and I’ve got bugs crawling on me and Koda leaning on my left shoulder in a way that’s making it numb.”

Nari picked up on the name. “Koda, not ‘Boss Hayashi’. Personal problem phone call then?”

“...You know me well. Were this any other case, I’d be pissed about that. But right now I need your expertise.”

“My expertise on what the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Precisely.”

“Great. Alright, what prompted the phone call?”

“Finding out that my younger brother apparently had sex with the prince of a demon cult on a plane that paved over its oceans.”

“...Run that by me again?”

“Apparently they did it while Koda was experiencing a colorshift, so he definitely wasn’t in his right mind, as much as he pretends that he was.”

“Remind me, colorshift?”

“He basically had all of his morals and priorities rewritten for twenty-four straight hours.”

Nari was silent for a moment as she processed that.

“Yeah. I just scrolled back up in the communicator to try and find it when it happened, but there’s also two posts on the hellsite about it and Hayashi’s already making plans for round two.”

“...So are you concerned about your brother having sex or are you concerned about who he’s having sex with? Give me something to work with here, boss.”

“The who. I of all people can’t judge the kid for getting some tail. I just...okay, shit, how much did you read from my writeup of Thunder Junction and the failed heist?”

“Enough to figure out that you’re probably talking about a kid of that Rakdos guy.”

“Exactly.”

“So, significantly more dangerous than you banging the son of the Regent?”

“Considering he’s a planeswalker to boot, apparently knows a song that makes people all murder each other, and spontaneously combusts-”

“Ah, there’s part of why you called me. Your fear of fire’s run headlong into your concern for your little brother.”

“Right. And Koda’s been spiraling pretty hard lately. The depersonalization and suicidal ideation’s getting worse, it’s slipping a lot more into how he talks about himself.”

“And you think this prince is...what, encouraging it or making it worse?”

“...I don’t know.”

Nari paused. She had never heard Satoru use those three words together in that order. He never admitted to not knowing something, knowing it would come across as weakness to anyone other than Nari. What was going on on other planes to make him finally crack? She took a deep, silent breath.

That quiet breath was what allowed her to hear Satoru’s next whispered admission. “I hate the idea of anyone dehumanizing and using my brother like that.”

Nari rolled over onto her back in bed and was silently grateful that she wasn’t somewhere in the woods on another plane like Satoru was. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“...Revenge fuck the guy’s dad?”

“NO. By the kami, boss. What are you, eighteen?”

“Sorry, sorry. The stress is getting to me. Add on the shit with H- ...the Devouring Chaos, and I’m fairly certain that even if I did die, my heart would just keep beating.”

Nari didn’t need the name finished to know who Satoru meant. Hidetsugu, the ogre-oni, one of the founders of the Hyozan Reckoners alongside Satoru’s ancestor Toshiro. And the two had one hell of a falling out that has affected generations of Umezawas and numerous chaos cultists ever since.

Nari had been six years old when Thistlefur found Satoru, also merely six, among the smoldering ruins of the Umezawa family home, disabled and orphaned. It was how the two of them met, after all – both orphaned, both taken in by Thistlefur. They never considered each other siblings, like how Satoru had never considered Thistlefur to be his dad, but they were close friends through the years. When Satoru had killed Kyuso, the boss before him, it was Nari who became his second-in-command immediately. When Ayame Hayashi was murdered and Satoru had finished consoling Koda, it was Nari who consoled Satoru.

Nari pinched the bridge of her nose. “How bad is everything else on those communicators, boss?”

“There’s an angel from Xerex who’s dedicated to some kind of divine peace that’s putting them in direct conflict with everyone else, someone wants the Brokers to go to war with the Dokuchi Reckoners and they’re pulling strings about it, there are incredibly depressed Dimir agents – also I apparently slept with their boss on Thunder Junction, didn’t know that going in – and...honestly I could be here all day, but then we wouldn’t actually get back to Towashi. I’ll tell you the rest in person.”

“Sounds good, boss.” Nari smirked. “Grey hair check?”

Satoru sounded more exhausted now. “I found three new ones.”

“Old man.”

“Shady bitch.”

“See you when you get home, boss.”

“Shouldn’t be too long now... A little more hiking, a little falling down a mountain, and then getting back to the city and making good on a deal. Then you and I are putting our heads down and working. Hayashi needs our support for this to go well.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Nari let Satoru hang up first, then dropped her communicator back on her nightstand and stared up at the ceiling. She could feel Azamuki’s influence roiling within her, almost like Treachery Incarnate knew something it wouldn’t share with her.

She was worried about that.

[ticklemerainbows]

Aestheticore Legacy Challenge

Hullo friends! I have been searching for a little while for a legacy challenge that I could also use as some sort of perfect genetics challenge and I figured, why not make my own. So the aestheticore legacy challenge was born! As you can tell from the title, this challenge is centered around differed aesthetics. There are a ton of aesthetics out there so it was hard to pick just 10, and some of these I’ve never heard of before so I’m excited to try this out! 

If you decide to do this, tag me ticklemerainbows or aestheticore challenge so I can see! And feel free to let me know what you think. This is my first challenge so if there’s things I could do different/better let me know!

And without further ado, the challenge.

                                                         ~x~x~x~

Generation One - Cottagecore

Your favorite thing about living on family land is the garden. It’s been around for at least the last 10 generations, and you want nothing more than to keep it going, but living in a city isn’t for you. So you pack up, take a keepsake plant from the garden and move to a quiet town in order to grow your own garden that will hopefully last for generations to come!

Requirements:  The Perfect Garden

Live on a small (no bigger than 30x30) lot

Maintain a garden for the entire generation

Reach level 10 Gardening

Make a living off your plants

Suggested Traits: Green Thumb, Loves the Outdoors

Color: Green

Generation Two - Auroracore 

You try your hardest to help your parents on the farm but you can’t help but have your head in the clouds. Fairy tales are your favorite genre of anything, and while living on a farm is all fine and dandy - you absolutely love your horse, you did raise it from a baby after all! - you always wonder if there’s something more. Like, a unicorn, perhaps?

Requirements:  The Fairy Tale Finder

Raise a horse from foal to adult

Reach level 10 in the Riding Skill

Have your horse get the Friend of the Herd Lifetime Reward

Search for a unicorn anytime there’s an aurora

Suggested Traits: Equestrian, Animal Lover

Color: Lilac

Generation Three - Light Academia

Being raised by someone who’s lifelong mission was to find a supernatural creature was surprisingly not as chaotic as it would sound, though you still prefer to stay more…grounded. While your parents were out hunting, you preferred to keep your head in the books, earning a scholarship to get into University. 

Requirements:  The Perfect Student

Get on honor roll as a child/teen

Earn a scholarship in any subject

Buy the bookstore

Suggested Traits: Socially Awkward, Workaholic, Perfectionist, Bookworm

Color: Beige

Generation Four - Fairycore

Your grandmother always told you about her times with her unicorn friend, and while you never quite believed her, you fell in love with the idea of supernatural creatures altogether. Magic, fairies, it all sounds so fantastical that you even begin trying to figure out if you can turn yourself into a magical creature!

Requirements:  Alchemy Artisan

Reach level 10 Alchemy

Visit the arboretum once a week to search for fairies

Befriend a fairy

Use an elixir to become a fairy

Suggested Traits: Supernatural Fan, Gatherer

Color: Pink

Generation Five - Comfy/Cozy

Life around magic has been a whirlwind, and you are anything but all that excitement. Having a grandparent who owns a bookstore has its perks, and you spend most of your time curled up with a good book and a warm cup of tea. Leaving your house to work doesn’t sound too appealing but you don’t have to go outside to write, do you?

Requirements:  Professional Author

Join the bookclub

Visit the library at least 3 times a season

Reach level 10 Writing

Write a best selling novel

Suggested Traits: Bookworm, Couch Potato, Artistic

Color: Orange

Generation Six - Decora

You always get asked how you turned out so outgoing when you were raised by homebodies, and you never have an answer for that. You just love being around people, and more importantly dressing those people up. You want to fill as many peoples lives with as much color as possible.

Requirements:  Fashion Phenomenon

Change your outfit every season

Reach level 10 Painting

Makeover at least 10 sims

Become best friends with one of your clients

Suggested Traits: Charismatic, Artistic, Excitable

Color: Magenta

Generation Seven - Jamcore

You love color just as much as your parents, but not so much the fashion part. Your clothes get way too messy as you experiment in the kitchen, after all. Creating yummy, colorful dishes are where your passions lie and you are determined to learn as much about the culinary arts as you possibly can.

Requirements:  The Culinary Librarian

Cook meals for your family every day

Grow a fruit orchard on the family farm

Have a personal recipe library

(Optional) Use the Grandma’s Canning Station once a week

Suggested Traits: Natural Cook, Bookworm

Color: Yellow

Generation Eight - Nautical

See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls ye. You’ve always been drawn to the water, so much so that your family jokes that you might be a mermaid. Swimming, fishing, boating, it all appeals to you. You’d live on a houseboat, if given the chance. 

Requirements:  Presenting the Perfect Aquarium

Own a boat

Install a pond on your family land

Move into a houseboat

Reach level 10 Fishing

Suggested Traits: Loves to Swim, Angler

Color: Blue

Generation Nine - Wanderlust

Your parents loved the open sea but you want to see what’s beyond that! Visiting other cities, and even other countries. Learning and immersing yourself in the culture. You’ve read books about it, watched shows, and now that you’re old enough it’s time to dust off your visa and visit those places for yourself.

Requirements:  Seasoned Traveler

Reach level 10 in Photography

Collect a relic from each location

Go on at least 1 adventure in each country

Marry someone from a foreign country

Suggested Traits: Adventurer, Perfectionist

Color: Red

Generation Ten - Synthwave

You spent your life in other countries, other cultures, and you have to wonder, what more is there? You’ve inherited a love of traveling but is it possible to go to other timelines, or even the future? There’s not much research on it now but there’s only one way to find out. To the future!

Requirements:  Made the Most of My Time

Become best friends with Emit

Reach Level 10 in Advanced Technology

Complete the Time Keeper Legacy Statue Challenge

Create a time machine

Suggested Traits: Friendly, Adventurer

Color: Black

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 16

⚠️ Erm, not sure what to tag this as...fluffy whump angst? Mainly fluffy!

Timeline starts as memory and ends in the present. Hope you enjoy!

💚💛👨‍🏫🚒🐦‍🔥

Night fell on Tracy Island, and Virgil flopped down onto the cool sheets of his bed. Training had gone well today, despite the odd hiccup; Tam taking to the jet-pack like a duck to water. Jonesy...well, he flew with all the finesse of a drunken penguin. Luckily, the med-scanner had reported no injuries, but for a bruised backside. The merciless ribbing (as to be expected from good friends) was decidedly more painful.

Virgil smiled.

Jonesy had just batted the jokes right back. The firefighter had a good sense of humour, and a thick skin - another vital trait in their line of work. It was like having a second Gordon about the place, which was in equal parts a blessing and a curse.

His piano, for starters; having been somewhat neglected since their guests arrived, had acquired a fine layer of dust. Gordon, of course, had wasted no time at all in scribing messages on its hood.

What's the difference between a piano and a fish? You can't tuna fish!

Jonesy had laughed way too hard at that; and just a few short hours later, another dad-joke (of equal cringe-worthiness) followed. Only, this time, the handwriting obviously not Gordon's.

Why did the GDF arrest Virgil?

Because he got into treble!

Virgil sighed.

"EOS, please can you add piano polish to the shopping list?"

*. *. * .

Virgil drew idle angel-patterns in the fresh bed linen; savouring the luxury of being able to starfish in his king-sized bed after training...well, they weren't really recruits anymore. They had all integrated so well with the family, that it was nice to think that he'd been training friends.

Mac...Mac was quite quiet; that was until he and Brains started chin wagging about Star Trek.

I mean, he liked Star Trek as much as the next person, but those two must have mastered the ability of breathing through their ears. He'd never seen Brains talk so much!

And though he often opted out of their tedious-Trek-talks; it was wonderful to see their resident engineer, and friend, so animated.

Virgil was roused from his thoughts by the strumming of a gentle Spanish folk song; the lilting melody drifting through his open balcony doors.

Someone was humming. By process of elimination; he knew it to be Tamara. It was a female voice, and he had heard both Grandma's and Kayo's over Comms enough times to know that it wasn't them. He padded quietly over to the balustrade, taking in the night air as the music played on.

It was a beautiful night; the father stretches of ocean so tranquil; the surface glittered with dark starlight.

Virgil rested his head on folded arms, watching the seafoam gather and fade along the shoreline.

Usually, all this beauty went unseen. After back-to-back rescues; he was lucky to see a glimpse of his pillow before sleep took him. He sighed contentedly, and the music suddenly stopped.

"Oh God! I had no idea anyone could hear me! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to keep you up!" Tam set the guitar aside with a musical thud.

"No, no, please! Play on! I was really enjoying that," Virgil leaned his head over the balcony.

"I'm really not that good. I-"

"How long have you been playing?" Virgil stalled her from disappearing back from her balcony and into her own room.

"Erm...ever since my mum passed, so that's...six years - but it's all self-taught," Tam flustered shyly. It was the first time Virgil had seen her out of her comfort zone.

"That's really impressive. And...I'm sorry about your mom. We lost our mother, Lucy, when we were just boys. Time doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

"No... but I guess, those who are lucky have, or find others to live for," Tam sighed pensively.

They both stood silently for a moment, lost in memory and deep in thought.

After a moment, Virgil gently cleared his throat.

"Do you like stars?"

"Stars?"

"Mmmm."

"Yes. I mean, especially here. They're so vivid and... ethereal!" Tam enthused.

"Well, if you can spare ten minutes; I'd love to share something with you. You can see it best from the Comms balcony," he gestured.

"Oh...I mean, sure?"

"You don't have to. It's nothing really. I-"

"No, no! I'd love to see," Tam assured, seeing that whatever he was referencing, held a great deal of meaning to him...whatever it was.

"Cool. I'll meet you up there in five."

*. *. *.

Tam found Virgil already waiting outside of the Comms room.

He greeted her with a genuine smile, before turning his face to the tapestry of stars in the near-midnight sky.

“Okay. I'm no John, but you can't have two spacecase brothers without learning a handful of constellations,” Virgil waved vaguely.

“Mmm. I bet.”

"Erm...Do you know many constellations?” he queried, not wanting to patronize another potential spacecase.

“Erm, well...that one over there's the North Star.” Tam pointed to the brightest light gleaming proudly in the sky.

“That's…actually Five. John's obviously overdone his teeth whitening gel.”

Tam snorted as she laughed.

“Spoken like a true brother.”

"Alright...so you'll have to use your imagination...like, a lot..." Virgil smiled.

"Cassiopeia, can you see her?"

Virgil guided Tam's hand up to the constellation.

"Angle your head slightly. It's a..."

"M?"

"Mmm hmm. Now, Auriga - that's your O." He guided her wrist as she traced the shape.

"Bare with me for the next one!"

"Okay."

"This is where you'll have to really use your imagination. You see Gemini - the twins?"

"Erm...yep, got it!"

"Okay, forget their top halves.

"Said no guy ever."

"It's all about their legs." he winked.

"Look..." He guided her hand once more in the final shape of an M.

"Mom."

"Mmm hmm."

Tam hummed appreciatively; the loveliest of smiles forming on her face as she gazed on the astral wonder.

"It really is beautiful," Tam mused.

"Beautiful," Virgil agreed, watching her smile.

Quietly, Tam began humming the melody from earlier, and the palms gently swayed in the light of the moon.

*. *. *

Virgil roused.

Grandma!

He made to move before the rest of his senses had even come back online.

Pain was the elicited result.

He hissed and a gentle hand was felt at his shoulder.

"You're okay, I've got you, I've got you."

The voice was familiar but conscious thought still eluded him.

Everything hurt.

Thinking hurt.

Just then, the voice began humming a familiar tune that filled his darkness with starlight.

[aphroditeslover11]

If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around

Neil Lewis x Reader

I’m back and this is the cheesiest, fluffiest thing I have ever written!

Neil and you had been friends for as long as either of you could remember, it was tradition that your families would spend a lot of time together around the Christmas season. Your parents had been friends since before you were born, and eventually decided that they wanted to become neighbours. Neil had been born three years before you, but as soon as you were old enough to join in with his games he refused to spend a moment separate from you. It was him that you had always gone to when you were having a problem with homework, granted he wasn’t the smartest but he always tried his best. It had also been him that you had phoned six months ago after going through the break-up from hell. You didn’t really know why you had made that decision, you had moved away from home that year to go to univerisity and he was busy opening a video store in another town with some friends, but for some reason he felt like the only person you could talk to, that would want to listen and understand. 

For you that night had signalled regaining contact with an old friend, becoming close again, for Neil it had been something quite different. He had had feelings for you ever since you were 17, of course he knew it was inappropriate given that he was twenty, so he just stayed away. Now you were twenty yourself, desperate and calling him for help, and all because you had been hurt by some other man. For him, this phonecall had reignited the spark that he had tried so hard to extinguish, burying it under a blanket of indifference and denial to try and move on with his life. His feelings for you had clearly not gone away.

Neil needed a plan, Christmas was on its way and he had a good feeling, perhaps now was the perfect time to really tell you how he felt. He went into Gumshoe Video alone one evening, clearing the entire Christmas shelf into a bag and taking them home to watch any romances he could find - this was the best place to find an idea. He finally stumbled upon love actually, the fourth film he had watched that night, at around 3am. His idea was born.

~

You had gone home for Christmas, your parents were throwing a party for Christmas Eve as they did every year and everybody in the neighbourhood had been invited. For some reason though, Neil was nowhere to be seen. You were disappointed to say the least. It was around nine o’clock  when there was a knock on the back door. Everybody else was half-drunk and doing Christmas karaoke so it was you that went to get it. You opened the door, bracing yourself for the inevitable cold gust, only to find Neil on the other side, wrapped in a big coat with a hat, scarf and gloves. You were about to pull him inside when he moved back, putting a finger to his lips to tell you to keep quiet. He walked off to the side then, seemingly to get something. What the hell was he playing at? He returned moments later with a pile of white sheets of paper, holding them up for you to read. He had such an anxious smile on his face.

Y/N, we have grown up together. Read the first one, he then promptly dropped it, revealing the next one behind.

You were my best friend and I was yours. Next sheet.

We’ve always been partners in crime. I still remember getting bollocked for covering your mum’s car interior in glitter because it was her birthday. He dropped that again.

By this time next year I might be a millionaire.

Maybe I’ll be dating Keira Knightly.

But there is something that I really want for Christmas. He dropped this to reveal the final slide, with a picture he had taken of you laughing at a barbecue last year. Below it was written Will you be mine? He shrugged, opening his arms and inviting your answer.

You ran out into the cold, laughing and smiling in glee. You threw yourself into his embrace as he dropped the slide in the process. You reached up to his face, crashing your lips against his in a warm and comforting kiss. You only broke it to answer his question:

“Yes Neil. Yes, I’ll be yours.”

[rriavian]

ooooo this ask game has a lot of good ones. How about:

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

My aim is to finish a few smaller projects in the first six months of this year. I’ve got some prompts in my inbox that I’m finishing fics for (all smaller stories) and I'd like to keep to a goal of regularly filling prompts this year.

I’ve also got another Corintheus ficlet I want to finish, and Cursed is a shorter piece. So a rough goal is the get those two out for February and then do the rest in whatever time they need :)

 👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

I think my bad habits are the other sides of my good habits, if that makes sense? The billions of ideas I’m always having can mean that unless I catch that wave when it happens, it feels like I’ve not done anything with that thought and just stalled instead. My own brain can quickly swamp me, and that can make me then struggle to finish. So I’m trying to pace myself better and be less stressed about ‘right now immediately’.

I also tend to write a little chaotically. Prose out of order, leaving rough sentences/ideas as place holders, but this doesn’t always work for longer projects. It can leave some tricky bits to clean up at the end. I can dip back in and be like aha! I know exactly what this needs, but it can also trip me up and stall me.

I’ve got a relatively flexible style, I’ve taken some different approaches in different fandoms and/or fics. Though Baiting the Trap and its specific tone/style was very much something I’d already practised in another series. Just not as explicit and not quite as poetic (the Corinthian’s POV naturally seems to be very lyrical, though not in the same way as Dream's). 

To keep flexibility I like to shake things up and do something completely new to keep myself from losing an edge and getting lazy. Not that I think I am a lazy writer, but I have ways to make sure I’m taking the same care and thought every time. Prompts from other people really help with this as I love considering new angles and tropes.

When something is hard/new I think we go more carefully, and are forced to be more novel, and I really really like improving my skills by doing that. It’s helped me write some of my favourite work.

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

There are two secret Corintheus fics I wrote alongside those for Corintheus week that need a last edit before posting but I’m being very quiet about what they are :) should be a nice surprise! I’m also very proud of my Corintheus ‘divorce au’ that I still need do some work on before I post. I think the one I’m most excited about is probably role reversal au because when finished it’s going to be the longest fic I’ve yet posted that’s not split into a series. It'll also be the longest fic I’ve written in years.

It’s quite ambitious, and will probably have a sequel. I’ve planned the second arc out because I had to split the original fic in two. There’s lots of threads as well as other relationship dynamics and subplots. It’s about Dream and the Corinthian of course, but also very much about how they interact with other characters. Death shows up quite a lot, but I would say that Lucienne and Gault are the other really major characters in the fic.

I’m also branching out into other parings/writing some more gen fics. And, as an honourable mention, what was intended as the last two parts of Baiting the Trap have both been written for over a year and every single day I just want to share where it’s going. Unfortunately there’s at least two more in the middle, which I’m also excited about, but when I get to it I’m going to feel so relieved. 

Oh! And the Corintheus seduction au! Goodness I’m excited about everything aren’t I? Though I guess that sums me up! Thank you so much for your questions I hope you enjoyed my answers :)

[wiltedsunrise]

sobbing… this is. literally nightmare situation JGKDH the more i like. think abt it. i think i fully checked out during one last phone call hgkdh bc like yeah the resulting reactions were very ooc for me personally 💔 and like during this one call they called me griffin and that made me sooooo so uncomfortable so. knowing i was fixated on anger i could probably say that was david and it was like. before id fuuuully lost contact w the system

bc that i genuinely did!! id had no idea!!!

anyways that call was like hgkdh aaaaaaaaaa

theyd needed a sudden like st loa bc of an unnamed family emergency. right when Hell House OCD Nightmare Apartment piqued. in trauma. we hadnt met in two weeks and i know david at that point was the only one capable of like fronting and had been for weeks due to The aunt and uncle situation. and so he like weathered new job hell job and then Hell House. and gradually used emails more bc i secretly cofronted during his one (1) session w grant and he was like. entirely unhelpful hkghd gave just enough of a reply to not require additional prodding but nothing that would facilitate like actual therapeutic progress. anyways he I Guess felt at that point more comfortable emailing. bc grant and i had long since established that i could keep a therapeutic diary via email and they did not have to read it but they could not respond.

so i later looked back and reviewed my send folder and saw 💔 he. very very graphically described The Bug Trauma. and grant also has ocd so like yeah i was instantly worried id caused that family emergency. denied it real real hard!!!! eventually talked myself out of it.

then they. finally. said theyd call me on monday to schedule our appt. they called at five pm and we were so unwell that wed literally been woken by the call 💔 so we checked in and scheduled a session a week out. an hour later, called back asking to be set up with someone else.

mentioned calling hotlines daily.

and. and i heard them. i heard them. anytime im doing well for too long i suddenly remember those sounds and i. i can never. ever. forget them. i so sincerely just want to talk to them because like good lord shared trauma with your therapist is indeed a nightmare scenario and i really should not know that id triggered them. and they were really quiet so i do not think they knew i could hear but. i could. and i immediately. checked out.

looking back i can tell that finn took over bc they were prominent in chats hgkdh they frequently cofront w david so they both talked to modern path but then finn figured it out bc they saw those clues plus realized grant was real real slow in seeing our request to reschedule. bc emails were triggering. sooooo. they checked out too and then it was just david.

and. well.

more trauma yay!!!!!! good lord.

i feel sosososo bad but. yeah i. i genuinely. i dont know how to move past this without like talking to grant you know hgkhd i point blank should not know this and that call was traumatic hgldh its. man. man.

i should go eat hkghd last night i panicked bc i was fixating on that memory and nicks “ruptured beyond repair” so aaaaa

tomorrow i will.. ask… to not work the next six days with only one day off bc. good lord i genuinely cannot handle that. im hglfh well im getting better at handling this but jlghd ive worked through like. the bulk of it right. now im just left with the core of the trauma which is the hardest to address 💔 but luca the therapist grant recommended and w whom we apparently had a consult. which i do not remember bc again i checked out and was cut off from the system so i remember zero things 💔 well they keep saying i need iop without reading any of my emails which is deeply frustrating bc theyre all really positive you know jgkdh just bc i talk a lot and just bc i have bipolar — MANAGED BIPOLAR at least by me griffin — does not mean i need iop hgkdh they were also like oh i was under the impression u didnt want to work together despite my REPEATEDLY EXPLICITLY ASKING FOR THEIR HELP 💔💔💔 id said u could take ur time reading and replying and then they like

like. dude. hgkdhgldb

they havent responded so i sent a follow up just now and. hgkshlghd mentioned my hearing grant bc. yeah. Yeah. shared trauma 💔💔💔

[12freddofrogs]

Still only on episode six, but I have seen what episode seven is titled, which can probably only mean one thing:

Episode Seven: Wet Lettuce, Oliver Twist himself is about to turn up.

Like, I noticed when Jack said "Oliver's a wet lettuce." It was a memorable insult, because it indicated a) Jack didn't like him (obviously) but also b) that the reason he didn't like him could well be because Oliver was a goody-two shoes. As in, he's not necessarily a villain in this adaption; this could be true to source material, and the Artful Dodger is mad that Oliver panicked regarding crime.

The question is also, of course, what he's doing in Australia. Most likely option I can see is as another suitor for Belle, but it's possible he's just touring the colonies, going exploring. I can't really see how anyone could have drawn him out on purpose to fuck with Jack, because the only one with motivation is Gaines and if Gaines had any idea of the Artful Dodger he'd just hang Jack as an escaped convict. Plus Gaines doesn't have the power to summon anyone, but I could have accepted he was able to manipulate events to get him as Belle's suitor or something.

It could go in a lot of directions! Oliver might be an utter asshole. Maybe he deliberately got Dodger caught. Maybe he's misogynistic or racist or classist. Or maybe he's just an absolute idiot. But that's not necessary as yet, and I very much hope he is a sweet, smart kid who has used his newfound fortune to try and better the lives of other children in his situation. I want Jack to find out Oliver had been writing letters to get him released from jail when he escaped and has since set up a fund for helping young kids in the Artful Dodger's name, and Jack is just like "You are making it really hard to hate you."

It's also possible whatever Fagin and the shadowy man's main scheme is (ochre heist, was it?) was deliberately done because they knew the ochre belonged to Oliver. Done as a very deliberate revenge. Which is possible.

I suspected the shadowy man might be Oliver for a bit, but 95% sure he's not. He's from Fagin's past, Jack might well recognise him from London, but he's too casual about murder. It doesn't fit.

And then, of course, how is Jack going to react? Because Jack actually doesn't care about Oliver. When explicitly asked, he'll agree he doesn't like the man, but Jack hasn't spent too much of the past two decades thinking about him. He doesn't have a picture attached to a dartboard. He didn't want Darius dead; he's not going to want Oliver dead. Assuming plot doesn't happen, if Jack found out Oliver Twist was in his town he would just avoid him. Possibly after a punch to the face, a couple of sharp comments. But Jack as it stands does not care enough to go ruin his own life for revenge.

And how will Oliver react? Will he recognise the Artful Dodger? He'd almost certainly recognise Fagin. The hatred can't be too mutual - Oliver got Fagin freed - but they weren't exactly on good terms. But then, Oliver might have thought he and Dodge were friends, might have fought to get Dodger released, which Jack never found out about. It depends on how Dodger got arrested. Maybe Oliver thinks thieves got what justice is coming to them. Maybe he remembers being cold and hungry and agrees a starving child is worth more than a necklace. Would he think Jack has well redeemed himself and agree to keep quiet to not ruin the doctor's life? Would that still hold true to realise Jack has indeed been stealing recently?

Or always possible that Wet Lettuce is just a random insult, or a literal wet crop, and Oliver doesn't turn up at all.

I think he will. Its an episode title, not a throwaway line. But who knows.

Three episodes into Artful Dodger.

Thoughts so far that are not particularly spoilery but will be under a readmore nonetheless:

1. Baby Dodger is adorable. I love his little accent ("guv!") that very much feels like a literal Dickensian street child. I want more flashbacks. Give me all of the flashbacks.

2. Belle and Jack steadily creating all of modern medicine themselves within a week is a little bit dramatic, but I don't care; it's fun. They have a fantastic dynamic and it's a fun balance of genuine respect and also being very annoyed at each other.

3. Actually everything about Belle is fun? I like that she's just running a different subplot entirely. Just blackmails a surgeon into teaching her. Doesn't fully grasp her class privilege but does have a pretty good idea of it; is very willing to use her title to actually fix things. Assists with surgery in a ballgown and a tiara, and presumably climbed out of her window wearing it.

4. On a character level, I support Jack's desire to not thieve and want him to do well about it, but also I adored watching the Artful Dodger do a pickpocket with the card. He is so good at it, its his absolute skillset.

5. Fagin is less annoying then he was in the first episode. The fact he does actually seem to care about Dodger/Jack helps, the whole e2 scheme being almost entirely for Jack's benefit with the gambling debt rather than to make a profit himself. That said, Fagin definitely has some plan upcoming that Jack isn't going to like.

6. I liked Fagin making a "best of times/ worst of times" reference, but it was almost too subtle. Different book entirely. I am very much hoping Jack will at some point say "Consider yourself part of the furniture" or something equally blatant as a reference to the musical. Tells Belle "Its clear we're going to get along."

7. I want Oliver Twist himself to turn up at some point. Ideally as a very nice guy, because that is more in tune with the book of the virtuous kid, regardless of Jack's feelings towards him, and it would be kind of great if Jack just punches Oliver and he's still not telling anyone about Dodger.

But come on, you can't just name a character 'Jack Dawson' and call it an adaption (spin off? Sequel? Its not trying to be Oliver Twist), there needs to be significant link. Yes, yes, Fagin is there but they are inventing half their backstory so it helps but doesn't really count. I am still mad about that book that just named characters Peter, James, and Wendy and called it an adaption with no closer link. That's not an adaption that's an allusion.

(7 and 1 are linked, btw. Please give us a flashback of baby Oliver and the Artful Dodger. Show us a scene from the book, or make one up during the book's time period. I want it. I will not give you anything for it but I want it. Please)

[sabo-has-my-heart]

NSFW Teacher!Sabo Edited Version

The edited version of my 200 Followers Event fic (here)

Warnings: NSFW, teacher x student relationship, oral both male and female receiving, spanking, very dom!Sabo, 18 y/o Reader

Word Count: 1300

I’ve wanted to write this basic idea for so long. Also, just to be clear, even though this is a teacher/student relationship and the reader is in highschool, they ARE 18, they aren’t underage!!!

This had all started when you’d failed that exam, he’d asked you to stay after class to speak with you. To be fair, it was an important exam, so you hadn’t thought anything of it. So he started tutoring you and once more, you thought nothing of it. Then you thought it was all in your head. Your teacher, Sabo, one of the ‘sexy six’ teachers in the school, flirting with you? No, it was in your head. At least it was ‘all in your head’ until he’d kissed you, a reward for doing so well, he’d said. Of course, you’d expected candy, a gold star, a $5 gift card tops! But to have him kissing you? That had been the last thing you’d expected. Not that you pushed him away, how could you? It was Sabo! Though once he’d pulled back, you did have some questions and concerns. He was your teacher! Of course you’d have questions and concerns!

Kneeling in front of the blond once more, you looked up at him, biting your lip, the tips of your fingers on the waistband of his slacks.

“What’re you waiting for? Or are you going to try to lie to me again and tell me you don’t want it?” Sabo asked with a chuckle. You simply shook your head, quickly undoing his pants and pulling them down, letting his hard cock out of its confines. Staying after school, fucking your teacher, pleasuring him, it always made your heart pound, but you loved it. Loved fucking your sexy as hell teacher, loved the rush of fucking or being fucked in his classroom, loved the filthy things he whispered in your ear. A slight groan left Sabo’s lips as you began to leave kitten licks along his length. Placing a hand on the back of your head, he pushed you closer, small kitten licks turning into running your tongue along his entire length, before wrapping your lips around the tip, head starting to bob up and down. Sabo’s breathing picked up, hand grabbing a fistfull of your hair, pulling you up and down on his cock. It wasn’t long until he had you choking on his dick, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Tears that lied about how much you enjoyed him fucking your mouth like this. Taking a shuddering breath, Sabo pulled you off his dick, pulling you into a rough kiss. Fuck, he wanted more. As he often did, Sabo had you on your back on his desk before you could register what had happened, the blond reaching under your skirt and pulling your panties down. Legs thrown over his shoulders, he began to lap and slurp at your already wet cunt, groaning against it. How was it that his 18-year-old student had him harder than anyone else he’d ever met, how did you taste better than anyone else he’d been with? From the moment you started making his heart pound, he knew it was a bad idea, knew that it was taboo, that he should stay away. But that failed exam gave him an excuse to be around you more, an opportunity he simply couldn’t let pass, each day growing closer, wanting you more and more until he couldn’t deny himself any longer. So he didn’t, he gave in, let himself enjoy such forbidden pleasures. Forbidden pleasures like the one he devoured now, hands on your thighs, keeping you spread open for him as his tongue swirled inside you, pulling more and more muffled moans from your lips. Fuck, how he wanted to hear your moans, hear you screaming his name. A pleasured gasp left your lips as you felt him flick his tongue against your clit, eyes shut tightly as he repeated the action again and again, making it harder and harder for you to stay quiet, hands clamped over your mouth. It wasn’t long before he had you cumming, his skilled tongue always able to bring you over the edge in no time. Sabo pulled back, breathing heavy as he looked at you, laying on his desk, legs still spread wide open. He wanted you, wanted to fuck you.

“S-Sabo… teacher, please. I need your cock.” you whimpered, trying to keep your voice down. The words sent a shiver down his spine, hearing you beg, the way you called out to him. He didn’t even hesitate, pulling you close as he thrust into you, lips pressed against yours as he swallowed your moan. Fuck, you were as tight as ever, squeezing around him. His hands quickly moved to your waist, pistoning his hard cock in and out of your pussy, biting back the moans that wanted to escape. The feeling of your walls clamping down around him, your warm, wet pussy taking him with ease, each time he pulled back, it felt like your cunt was trying to pull him back in. Thrusting forward hard and fast. Fuck, the way you were spasming and clenching around him, you were close, but he couldn’t let it end so quickly, he wanted more. Hands shaking, he held your hips flush against yours, making you whine. You’d been so close. 

“Shh, you need to be q-quiet like a good girl. Otherwise s-someone will hear you. You want them to find out about this?” Sabo asked, biting his lip as the idea made his cock twitch. One of his colleagues walking in, catching the two of you in such a state. Watching, masterbating as Sabo bounced you up and down on his cock, holding you up by your thighs as he showed them your wet cunt. The imagery had him slamming in and out of your pussy again and again. Just as you reached the edge once more, Sabo pulled out, flipping you over before smacking your ass. He knew the risk he was taking, that someone could hear each hit, but his lust was clouding his thoughts as he smacked your ass again and again as you bit into your arm, trying to contain your cries. He quickly picked you up, hands holding you up by your thighs like he’d imagined, lowering you back down on his cock as he thrust up into you again and again. Covering your mouth with your hand, it took everything you had not to scream in pleasure as he bounced you up and down on his throbbing cock. You were close again, so close.

“Please let me cum. I’m a good girl.” you whimpered as quietly as you could manage, knowing how much Sabo loved it when you begged. Not that he could have denied you at this point, his thrusts speeding up until you were cumming around his cock, eyes rolled back as he shot load after load of cum deep into your cunt. He’d never cum inside you before, but it sent you tumbling into another orgasm, mouth open in a silent scream. It was a few minutes before you came down from your high, Sabo already cleaning you up, his pants pulled back up as he smiled at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to uh, lose control like that.” Sabo apologized, looking away. You just smiled and giggled, drawing his rather confused attention.

“I uh, I liked it. Having my teacher’s cum inside me feels… really good.” you said, cheeks turning a bright red. Sabo felt his pants grow tight again as he stared at you in slight shock.

“You know, there’s another important exam coming up, I should start tutoring you at my house on Saturdays.” Sabo said before he could stop himself. You could only nod, cheeks still bright red. Sure, tutoring, that’s what he’d be doing. He certainly wouldn’t be fucking his student and filling her to the brim with his cum, that would be taboo.

[h0tchner]

Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

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

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

[dreamerstreamer]

Pocket Knife Prince

Pairing: c!Technoblade x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’ve liked Technoblade from the moment he joined Pogtopia, but you could never quite bring yourself to confess. Who knew it would only take a pocket knife and some potatoes to change that?

Warnings: minor cursing & one slightly out of pocket joke

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this a repost of an older story i had posted a while back. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you enjoy! <3

You huffed as you pulled yourself up another rung on the ladder, your arms straining as you did your best to keep yourself balanced. You still couldn’t fathom why Tommy thought it was a good idea to dig straight down.

“I’ll hit a cave, eventually,” he had told you as he grabbed a pickaxe, already starting to mine away at the space beneath his feet.

“Maybe,” you had said. “But what if you hit a lava pool? Do you really want to burn alive?”

“Oh, I have a backup plan in case I fuck up.” He held up a bucket of water, grinning at you. “Bam. Fucking foolproof.”

Yeah, sure, you thought to yourself with a grimace as you continued to haul yourself upward. You might not have died while digging down, but I might die while climbing up. 

Pausing, you reached behind you to adjust the strap of your back with a cry of frustration. This is way too heavy—I should have gone back earlier.

You looked back up again, squinting for a second before your eyes lit up. At long last, light! You were at least somewhat close to the entrance, now. “Just a bit more climbing,” you muttered to yourself as you reached up once more, “and then you’ll be able to take this stupid bag off.”

A few moments later, you gasped as you finally dragged yourself out of the vertical tunnel, standing up on shaky legs. Without even an ounce of hesitation, you swung your pack off your back, dumping it onto the dusty earth ungracefully. Your muscles practically screamed with relief as you rolled back your shoulders, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Hey, boys!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the tall ravine. “Guess who’s back?!”

You heard some rumbling, then a tuft of blond hair peeked out from one of the overhanging pillars. “Big [Y/N]!” Tommy shouted, waving at you. “You took for-fuckin’-ever to get back.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not my fault we needed so much stuff.” You narrowed your gaze. “Also, your ladder idea sucks.” 

Tommy scowled. “My ladder idea is fucking genius, you bi—”

A new voice cut in. “Tommy, that’s enough.”

You smiled triumphantly as you watched Tommy immediately shrink back, his tone quieting as he grumbled defeatedly, “Yes, Wilbur.”

Giving him a quick ruffle of his hair, Wilbur strolled down the ravine’s cobblestone steps down to the bottom. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets as he flashed you a grin. “Welcome back, [Y/N]. How was the trip?”

You offered him a weary but satisfied look. “Oh, you know. Dark. Dusty. The usual. But…” Bending down, you flipped open the top of your pack and pulled out a smaller sack, shaking it in front of his face. “…I got all that gold you wanted! There’s probably a little less than seven stacks in there, which will be plenty if we want to make some golden apples.”

Wilbur blinked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise as a smile began to tug at his lips. “Not that I doubt you or anything,” he said, “but where in the world did you manage to get nearly seven stacks of gold?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, dropping the bag into his hands with a hum. “In a cave.” When he stared at you in stunned silence, you quirked a brow at him. “What? It’s not like it was hard.”

He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You’re batshit crazy, [Y/N]. That’s incredible.”

You smiled sheepishly at his words. “For the record,” you pointed out, “I didn’t do it all in a single day or anything. I was gone for, like, half a week.”

“That’s still really good work, alright?” He reached over, playfully punching your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

You winced, shooting him a dirty look. “Ow, that hur—”

“Oh, you’re back.”

Your head whipped around at the sound of low, rumbling voice. Your frown vanished at the sight of Technoblade standing a few feet away from you, a basket of potatoes held in his gloved hands. You felt your heart swell and a bright grin replace your scowl as you bounced over to him. “Hi, Techno!” you chirped.

He smiled back at you, his gaze kind. “Hello.”

From behind you, Wilbur let out a distressed noise. “Jeez, you seem so excited to talk to him but barely batted an eye at me. Did you miss him that much?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks. “More than I did you.”

Tommy cackled as he walked by, adjusting the straps of the pack in his hands. “Ouch. Maybe you should get some ice for that burn, Wilbur.”

Wilbur grimaced, opening his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly lit up. “Actually,” he said, turning, “speaking of ice, who wants to go with me to the Nether to destroy some of the SMP’s and Manberg’s ice roads?” A devilish grin split across his face. “I figured that it would slow them down a bunch and they’d spend less time focusing on us, so it’ll be easier for us to get into contact with Tubbo.”

You blinked at him, then sent him a teasing smile. “Wilbur, this might one of the only good ideas you’ve had since starting a drug cartel.”

“Thank y—wait, is that a compliment?”

“Man,” Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at him, “just take it as one and let your ego coast on that for the next six months.”

“Anyways,” Wilbur said, ignoring him and moving on, “who wants to come with me?”

You shook your head, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “No thanks. I just got back from a long, long mining trip. I think I’m due for some time off.”

Wilbur nodded. “Alright, fair.” His gaze moved to the figure standing next to you. “Techno?”

Technoblade simply raised the basket of potatoes in his hands. “Nah. I’ve got my hands full here.”

Wilbur made a face, a hint of desperation seeping into his eyes. “You can farm potatoes any time,” he said, his voice raising a pitch or two. “How about you just come with m—”

“Why don’t I just go?”

Wilbur froze, and he turned with a shaky smile. “A-Are you sure about that, Tommy? You sure you don’t just want to stay in the ravine with [Y/N]?”

Tommy shrugged, flipping the stick in his hand. “Not really. It’s not like I have anything better to do, anyways.” He nudged the pack at his feet. “I’m even packed and ready to go, too.”

Wilbur swallowed, and you could have sworn a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “You really want to come?” he added, sounding more and more uncertain with each word that passed his lips.

“I dunno, Wilbur,” Technoblade spoke up, quirking his lips at him, “but it almost sounds like you don’t want to bring Tommy with you.”

Tommy gasped, looking appalled. “What the hell, Will? Of course you want me to go with you, right?”

Wilbur turned on his heel, dragging a tired hand over his face. “Sure, Tommy. Let’s just say that.” He strode away toward the stairs, practically stomping his way up to the second floor. “Just give me a second to grab a pack,” he sighed, waving a hand behind him. “I’ll be down in like five minutes.”

Tommy threw his hands in the air, waving his stick. “Fuck yeah!”

Technoblade let out a quiet chuckle, turning on his heel. “Well, I’m gonna go back to farming.”

You glanced at him shyly, trailing after him. “Can I come with?”

His step faltered, and he turned to send you a fond look. “Always.”

Your heart lit up at the sight and you grinned, following him into the garden room. The entirety of the floor had been replaced with dirt, tiny streams of water weaving their way around the potato patches. You let out a quiet hum as Technoblade set the basket of potatoes on the ground, grabbing a hoe from its place on the wall and walking over to the makeshift field. Digging the blade of the hoe into the earth, he pulled back and repeated the motion until the soft, dark soil was exposed to the air. Leaning back against the wall, a soft smile crept onto your face as you watched.

You remembered when Technoblade first arrived in the Dream SMP, all those months ago. You had been sitting in the ravine, peeling an apple with a pocket knife as you chatted with Wilbur, when Tommy burst in with a deafening shout about “the blade”. Raising your head, you had opened your mouth to make a snarky retort, but the words died in your mouth the minute you laid eyes on him.

He looked like a prince—a handsome one, at that.

While Wilbur had jumped down to greet Technoblade with a friendly hug, you had simply stared at the newcomer, pocket knife in your hand and apple slice in the other. As Tommy brought Technoblade over to you and asked you to introduce yourself, you remembered that dizzy pink feeling rising in your chest as you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Want an apple slice?”

You had expected him to be confused, shaking his head and pulling away with a disgusted look. But instead, his gaze flickered to your hand.

“I’d rather have the knife.”

You had blinked at him for a moment, stunned, then burst into laughter, outstretching your hand with the pocket knife handle extended toward him. He had offered you a small, awkward smile back, gingerly taking the knife from you. When his hands brushed against yours, that hazy, rosy feeling swelled in your chest again.

Ever since that moment, you’d only fallen harder and harder.

It was difficult to put into words just what drew you to Technoblade. Of course, he was pretty, but you weren’t that shallow. He had an awkward charm to him, something that seeped into every aspect of his being. He was hardworking, determined, sarcastic, and oh-so very real. You couldn’t name one thing about him that you didn’t like, really. You loved his laughter that came in brief, giggling bursts. Every time he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back. He never failed to keep you guessing, and you loved every second you spent with him.

You weren’t sure how far you’d fallen at this point, but you knew one thing, and it was that there was no going back.

“Hey,” a new voice said suddenly, pulling you away from your thoughts. You turned, watching Tommy stick his head into the room. “Can I have some potatoes for the trip?”

Your eyes shot to Technoblade, who paused for a moment, then nodded, gesturing to the basket at his feet. “Sure. You can have a couple.”

Tommy grinned, strolling in to lean down and pluck three potatoes from the pile. Standing back up again, he toed the basket, tossing and catching a potato in his hands. “Hey, Techno,” he said, “don’t you ever get tired of farming these things?”

Technoblade paused, patting down the dirt he had just covered another potato with. “Eh, not really.” His eyes flickered with contentment, and you felt your lips twitch. “I like it.”

Tommy frowned. “But,” he said, “it’s so fucking boring.”

You gasped, shooting him a glare. “Tommy! That’s mean.”

“What? Am I wrong?” He flung his arm out to point at the tilled dirt, clearly unimpressed. “All he’s doing is the same fucking thing over and over, again. We’re in a war, [Y/N]. Why can’t he just spar with me or something?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, deadpanning. “Tommy, the last time you sparred with Technoblade, you lasted less than ten seconds.” 

He grew quiet. “Okay, well, you didn’t have to put it like that, but—”

“What? Am I wrong?” you said, mimicking him.

A second passed. Then two.

“…touché, [Y/N].”

“Tommy!” Wilbur’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs, his head popping out from between the railings. “You ready to go?”

Without missing a beat, Tommy whipped around, rushing out of the farm room and slipping up the stairs. “I’m coming!”

A smirk tugged at Wilbur’s lips. “Heh.”

“Wha—oh, Will! That’s fucking disgusting.”

“But it was funny,” you called out after the youngest.

“Fuck off, [Y/N]!”

Beside you, Technoblade let out a laugh, his eyes curving into two crescent moons as he set down the hoe and picked up a shovel. With a fond smile gracing your lips, you took a step toward him, leaning down to take a closer look. There was something so endearing about knowing someone as powerful as Technoblade had a hobby as mundane as farming—farming potatoes, to be more specific. 

You liked it. A lot. You liked him a lot.

You wondered how much longer you could go without saying it aloud.

“Hey, Techno,” you murmured, watching his ears perk up at the sound of your voice, “could you teach me the best way to plant potatoes?”

He paused, his shovel planting itself in the earth as he turned to look at you, his lips parted in surprise. “Y-You actually want to learn?”

You bobbed your head, praying that your face wasn’t growing any warmer. “Of course. Fighting’s fun and all, but there’s more to life than just bloodshed.” You flashed him a bright grin. “Besides, an army needs food to fight!”

With a small grin, he gestured for you step closer. “You want to make sure you dig about six to eight inches down,” he explained, gesturing down the hole with his finger. “If you don’t dig deep enough, then the potato will be too close to the surface, and if you dig too deep, it’ll have a harder time reaching the top.”

You nodded, your tongue swiping over your lips in concentration. Technoblade let out a brief cough, turning away with a slight flush to his cheeks as he grabbed a potato from the basket next to him. “Then,” he continued, “grab a potato. You’ll want to cut it in half down the middle and plant it so the cut side is facing downwards.”

Sticking a hand into his pocket, he rummaged around for a second before pulling out a familiar pocket knife. Your eyes flashed with recognition as he flipped the blade open and sliced through the potato with ease.

“Is that,” you began slowly, your tone tentative and gentle, “my pocket knife? From when we first met?”

Technoblade’s hands faltered as he sliced, his gaze flickering to you with a bashful look. “It’s—um, yeah. Does… does that bother you?”

You immediately shook your head, waving your hands in front of you. “No, not at all! I-I was just wondering. I haven’t seen it in a while, that’s all.”

He lowered his chin, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “I’ve been taking good care of it,” he admitted quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “It’s important to me.”

You blinked, your heart beating faster in your chest. “It is?” you whispered.

He nodded. “It is.”

You wanted to curl up into a ball and squeal. It only took two simple words from him to send you into a flurry of awkward smiles and blushing whines. You couldn’t believe just how far gone you were.

Technoblade stretched a hand toward you, half of the potato he cut clutched between his fingers. “Here. You try planting one.”

With a shaky hand, you gently pulled the potato from his hands, nearly flinching at the feeling of his skin brushing against yours. Carefully, you reached over and set the potato face down like he had instructed. You pointed your hand toward the pile of dirt lying just beside the hole, about to start covering the potato when his arm shot out in front of you.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, making you freeze in place. “You don’t have gloves on. I don��t want your hands to get dirty.”

You sent him a small smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

He didn’t budge. “Please. Let me.”

That fuzzy feeling was back, and you pulled back. “Okay,” you whispered, your stomach swarming with butterflies as you watched him cover your planted potato with his hands. For someone who made a lot of jokes regarding human ethics, he was far more caring than he let on.

“Y’know,” you said softly, glancing over at him, “it’s really cool watching you do this, even if Tommy thinks it’s boring.” A small smile flitted across your face. “There are all these specific conditions that you have to know to have the most efficient farm with the best percent yield of potatoes—it’s honestly kind of surreal just how much brainpower actually goes into farming.”

Technoblade stared at you, his eyes reflecting something thoughtful and warm, and another thought popped into your head. You felt your cheeks begin to grow warm at the words swirling around your head. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth, again.

“I-I, um,” you began shakily, suddenly finding the scuff mark on your shoe very interesting, “I really hope you know how smart we think you really are. How smart I know you are. Because you are. Smart, that is.”

You must have been trembling, you could almost feel it. Why was it so hard to put your feelings into words? At this rate, you were never going to be able to confess how you felt. Just how much longer could you drag this out fo—

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, your lips parting as you looked at him in surprise. The moment his soft gaze met yours, a spark of electricity ran through your veins, and you shivered for an entirely different reason.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tilting his head at you. “I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, he squinted his eyes at you, his carmine gaze narrowing. “Oh wait, you’ve got something on your face,” he murmured, inching closer in to take a better look.

“Oh,” you said, a hand immediately darting up to your cheek, “that’s probably just some dust or soot or something. You know, from the mines.” You wiped at your face with the back of your hand, embarrassment shooting up your spine knowing that you probably looked dumb. “Did I get it?”

He frowned, pulling off his gloves as he leaned closer. “No, here let me just—”

Suddenly, his hand was on your face, your cheek held gently in his palm. Your heart came barreling to a stop, your entire body freezing like ice. 

He was so close.

The pads of his finger were warm and calloused, yet they held a certain softness to him as his thumb slowly swiped just under her eye, careful to brush away the dirt that marred your face. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you found yourself unable to look away from him, hyperaware of the goosebumps that shot up your sides as his gaze met yours. A prince—he really did look like a prince.

For a moment, the two of you simply gazed at one another, a silent question hanging over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.

“Can I say something kind of crazy?” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered, not moving his gaze from yours for even a heartbeat.

You sucked in a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut. “I…” You swallowed. “I really, really want to kiss you, right now.”

A moment of silence passed, and you held your breath, tension digging itself into your shoulders. Oh, I’m totally about to get rejected. This was such a bad idea. What was I even thinki—

“Can—” He started then stopped, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “Can I say something even crazier?”

You heart leapt. “Yeah, totally,” you breathed.

He turned back to look at you, and you felt something deep in your chest click. “I really, really want to kiss you, too.”

Your eyes flew wide, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin forming on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Technoblade dipped his head down close to yours, his crimson eyes darting across your face as he took in your every feature. As he leaned closer toward you, a question silently flashes in his gaze. 

Can I…?

You smiled and nodded oh-so subtly, just for him to see.

Yes, yes, yes.

Ever so slowly, he leaned down toward you, and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Just then, his lips met yours, soft and tentative like a deer taking its first, shaky steps. Electric ran down your spine at his velvet touch, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck and touch his cherry blossom pink hair. His crown tumbled to the ground off his head, rolling a few times before coming to a full stop, but neither of you particularly noticed, far too enraptured with one another to care.

This was everything you could have possibly asked for.

A moment later, you pulled apart, gasping for air as the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes. His hair had been mussed by your touch, his lips parted and puffy from the kiss.

You didn’t think he could look any more princely, but he still managed to prove you wrong.

Clearing your throat, you cast eyes away in shy embarrassment. “I feel like I should also clarify that this means I like you,” you added in a rush, fidgeting with your hands. “Like, way more than I thought I could ever like a person.”

Technoblade let out a sigh of relief, lips curling at the corners. “Oh, that’s good. I like you, too.” Your heart did a backflip in your chest, shouting in celebration as he added, “I was sort of thinking we were just gonna kiss and never talk about it, again.”

You shot him a quizzical look. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

He sent you a crooked smile, but his gaze was fond. “Only kind of.”

You weren’t quite sure how many minutes passed in comfortable silence, both of you simply basking in the other’s warm presence. It was nice—this was nice. You wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while longe—

“—y it, Tommy, just say it!”

Your eyes shot wide open in panic. Across from you, Technoblade’s expression mirrored your own.

They were back.

“I’m telling you it’s okay, Tommy—you can call me ‘Wilby’ if you want to!”

Flailing your arms in a panic, you immediately began to backpedal to the other side of the room, Technoblade picking up his shovel and beginning to shovel as fast as he could.

“You’re still going off about this shit? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to call you ‘Wilby’, oh my fucking go—”

Wilbur crooned as they stepped into the garden room, “Aww, Tommy, my little gremlin.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilbu—”

“B-Back so soon?” you prompted, pretending to have been looking at the potato field with great focus as you turned to face them.

Wilbur turned away from Tommy, the smile sliding off his face. He nodded with a sigh, adjusting the pack on his back. “We almost got to the portal, but Antfrost saw us, so we had to book it.” 

Technoblade paused his movements, deadpanning with an unimpressed tone. “Tragic.”

Tommy scowled at him. “Don’t sound so cocky, bitch. You didn’t have to outrun like, half of the SMP all the way back here without getting tracked.” Suddenly his gaze shot to the ground, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “And why’s your fuckin’ crown on the ground?” he muttered, snatching it from the dusty floor and tossing it back over to Technoblade.

“No reason,” you said half a beat too quickly.

Wilbur’s eyes flitted back forth between you and Technoblade, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and Technoblade’s disheveled hair. Then, a sly, scheming smile crept onto his face. You gulped.

Oh, he totally knew.

“Tommy,” he said, the shit-eating grin still plastered to his face, “how do you feel about going on another trip with me?”

Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes swimming with confusion. “Another trip?” he parroted.

Wilbur nodded, still smiling. “Yep. Another trip. Let’s get going, yeah? I’ve got something wonderful in mind.”

Before Tommy could even react, Wilbur had grabbed onto the handle of his pack, dragging him back and up the stairs. “Wilbur! What the fuck? Where are we even fucking going?”

“On a trip!” Wilbur sang as he trudged up the stairs with Tommy in tow. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he sent you a knowing wink. “You two have fun, now.”

You gaped at him as he walked off, Tommy still kicking at his heels when they vanished from sight. A moment passed in silence before you turned to look at Technoblade, again.

“He knows,” you whispered, half in awe and half in horror.

Technoblade grimaced back at you. “Oh, he absolutely does.”

A beat of silence fell over you. Your eyes locked onto his carmine ones, and something seemed to click just then, a smile crossing both of your faces.

Indeed, Wilbur had just provided you with the perfect opportunity.

Who were the two of you to not take it?

[omg-imatotalmess]

Speed Demon

Hey guys! So, our new anon, Peach anon, sent me an absolutely god-tier idea, and I got a little out of control thinking about it. Thank them for this messy little thing. Hope y'all enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested: No but based on an ask

The ask: hi i found ur blog recently and i LOVE your work and wanted to shower u with love and affection <3 <3 <3 and maybe also... a headcanon?? anyways roadtrip with boys are so fun to imagine like i have this hc that draco is such a nervous wreck in cars and it translates into passenger driver ("careful, careful!! that semi is switching lanes!" "draco i am sIX CARS BEhiND IT") nfdjhgjs anyways imagine getting so fed up you just reach over (1/2 peach anon claiming peach right now its MINE :D )

(2/2) and start palming at his cock switching btwn just resting ur hand on him and making him try to fuck up into you fist he'd be grabbing the little handle above the door and finally shut up literally the second after you let him come though it's like four seconds of happy peaceful silence and then its "love, steady, you're speeding a bit" anyways ty for doing all that you do ilysm :)

Warnings: Smut, hand jobs, don't jerk someone off while you drive, mild cum eating, sub!draco, dom!reader, swearing(?)

---

The muted drone of the weatherman on the radio filled the near silence of the car. Draco didn't ever talk much when you drove. For a man that enjoyed taking road trips as much as he claimed to, he certainly didn't like being in the car. You didn't mind much, though. You were just happy to spend the time alone with him. Even if the only time he broke the silence was to yell about your driving, which, to be fair, was often enough.

"Slow down! Why are you so insistent upon getting us killed?" Draco snapped, digging his fingernails into the seat.

"Draco, my love, my sweet, I'm already going under the speed limit. Try to relax a little," you said. The huff from your passenger seat reminded you why everyone had insisted that you and Draco take your own car. No one else could put up with him. Especially not with the kind of amusement you could.

"I'll relax when you stop trying to kill us," he said. But, then again, even you had your limits.

"Do you want some help, love?" you asked.

"Help? What do you mean help?" Without looking at him, you lifted your hand from the wheel, resting it lightly on his thigh. You gave it a firm squeeze. Though he didn't say anything, you found yourself enjoying watching him squirm in your peripheral vision.

"You know, help," you said cheerfully.

"You're driving," he hissed.

"You don't seem to mind much," you teased, laying your hand over his slowly hardening cock.

"Watch the road!" he snapped as a truck switched lanes several cars ahead of you. Despite his command, he bucked his hips up, grinding into your palm with no shame. You smiled. Draco could be so stubborn when he wanted to be. No matter how badly he wanted this, he'd probably just keep complaining about your driving until he couldn't anymore.

"I am," you said.

"What if you-ah-get distracted?" he asked.

"I'm just letting you use my hand. Keep it down and you won't bother me," you laughed.

"But what if--oh," he cut himself off with a groan as you popped the button of his pants and snaked your hand underneath.

"Shhh, just enjoy yourself, baby boy," you soothed, grinding the heel of your hand gently against the head of his cock. The whiny moan that reverberated throughout the car made you strain to keep your eyes on the road. You would have loved to see the face he was making just then, but you told him you wouldn't get distracted. Instead, you settled for rubbing him teasingly just to make him squirm.

"(Y/N)," he groaned.

"Hmm?" you hummed.

"Please."

"Please, what? Tell me what you want," you said, glancing over your shoulder as you switched lanes.

"I want more," he muttered.

"I thought you wanted me to concentrate on the road," you teased. With a groan of frustration, he rolled his hips into your barely moving hand.

"(Y/N), take pity on me. I'm already in this screaming death trap," he whined. You laughed, giving him a rough squeeze through his underwear. A choked groan told you all you needed to know. All he wanted was attention. That was likely why he'd been complaining so much in the first place.

"Alright, alright. Take your cock out for me then, baby," you said.

After a second of shuffling, you felt him push himself into your waiting hand. It never took much to work him up, and you were grateful for it. You loved seeing him hot and leaking for you pretty much as soon as you started playing with him. Swiping your thumb over the slit, you smiled as the wetness there smeared with your touch. He bucked impatiently at the soft attention. It wasn't what he wanted. Pulling your hand away for a second, you spat into it before beginning to jack him at a torturous pace. It wasn't a substitute for lube, but Draco didn't seem to mind any.

A quick glance at your passenger told you that he was just enjoying the sensation. He could have been anywhere for all he seemed to care. It was almost like he'd forgotten about the car entirely. One pale hand gripped the seat under him while the other grabbed the handle over his head to steady him as he thrust into your hand. Like a man unhinged, he drove up into the tight circle of your fist practically unassisted. You doubt he really minded the lack of real lube.

"That's a good boy," you praised, switching back into the other lane. "I bet you feel so much better now that you have something to keep you busy."

"Yes! So much better!" he moaned.

"I know being my good boy always helps you relax," you said. The car in front of you swerved and cut off the guy in the other lane, who blared his horn. You slowed slightly, glaring at them.

"Always! Love being your good boy." Draco's voice was so earnest and sweet, all pitched up like that.

"And you are such a good boy, Draco," you said.

Little punched-out noises rippled through the car, overpowering the drone of the radio station you'd been listening to earlier. Honestly, you preferred them. Any sweet, pathetic little sound Draco made was infinitely more interesting than any news guy on the radio. Hips pounding into your hand, Draco tipped his head back against the headrest with the most desperate wine you'd heard in a while. You shivered, cutting your eyes away from the road to steal a glance at him in all his strung-out, desperate beauty.

And you weren't disappointed. His usually pale skin was flushed a bright pink, eyes lidded and more focused on you than anything else, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth in an unsuccessful attempt to quiet himself. A real thing of beauty. Your sweet, pretty boy Draco. Twisting your hand over the head of his cock, you relished in that fact for a moment.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'd be half tempted to pull over and fuck you properly in the back seat," you said.

"Please," Draco begged breathily, slamming his hips up erratically.

"Don't tempt me, baby boy. We're on a schedule," you said. Though, it really was a charming idea.

"(Y/N), please. I don't care about being late. Want you to fuck me," he whined.

"You say that now," you laughed.

"Please, I'll be so good," he whined.

"If you can cum from my hand now, Draco, I'll keep you so well fucked on a this trip you won't remember anything but me," you said, an alluring promise coloring your voice.

"Yes, yes! Want that! Wanna cum for you so much," he babbled. Arching his back against the seat, he drove his cock into your hand with renewed desperation.

"Are you close? You wanna a good boy and cum for me?" you purred. The car in front of you stopped short, but Draco didn't even seem to notice that you'd jerked to a stop. He just gripped the handle above him and whined for you.

"Wanna be a good boy. Please, I wanna cum," he cried. Looking over, you noticed the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. You smiled gently at him.

"Oh, Dray, you've been so good," you said. His mouth dropped open into a soft cry as his hips completely lost rhythm. "Go ahead, baby boy. Cum for me."

Draco's hips stuttered, once, twice, and by the third time, he was cumming all over your hand. His eyes screwed shut, and a pitchy cry of your name left his lips as he shook in your grasp. And you just worked him through it. Pumping him gently while he whimpered through the aftershocks. You didn't stop until his thighs shook so hard you could feel the car move. Then, finally, you pulled your hand away and lifted it to his mouth.

"Clean up your mess, baby boy," you said.

"Yes, (Y/N)," he said tiredly, sticking his tongue out. Pressing your fingers against it, you let him lick your hand clean of his own cum until you were satisfied. You two had started moving again by the time he finally came around enough to really talk to you.

"How do you feel, Dray?" you asked. He gave you a sleepy smile.

"Like you need to slow down. You're speeding," he said.

"I'm not speeding," you said. You were, in fact, speeding a little.

"Don't think that just because I just had the best orgasm of my life that I don't remember you drive like a demon," he said. Shaking your head, you laughed in disbelief.

"Only you could complain after having the best orgasm of your life," you sighed.

"I thought you loved that about me," he said. "You're still speeding."

"Maybe I should have pulled over," you said, rolling your eyes. Well, it had been nice while it lasted. And Draco was right. Kinda. You did love him, even if you wouldn't exactly say you loved his complaining.

[real-jane]

nftn (bonus): the girl

(bucky barnes x female!reader, shield)

summary: what happens after bucky meets *the girl.*

warnings: bucky only has one foot in reality, is v dramatic as per usual

word count: 1,681

a/n: the first in a series of BONUS baby companion pieces to ‘nostalgia for the new’! this is the direct aftermath of the first instance that Bucky meets reader, as described by Sam in his toast in part 10. :) (i just keep getting ideas for little things to add to nftn, so at this rate it may never officially end lol.)

series masterlist

The stainless steel elevator doors had horizontal scratch marks not waist high, from agents in too much of a hurry to wait for them to slide fully open. The grating at the base was worn flat in a way that any metal that wasn’t vibranium did. Each illuminated button glowed extra bright the moment it was summoned to an upper floor, and then dimmed with a settled flicker until the lift reached its destination–and for a split-second, they all glowed. The red number above the door hovered there until the doors closed again, regardless of whether or not the elevator gained an occupant.

The tinny ding made Bucky wince. Floor six. He tugged on his earlobe, but the metallic bell hung on a frequency that had him wondering for a moment if he was going to pass out, a piercing thing. He popped his jaw, but it sat there, right behind his ear canal.

He scooted to the corner to make room for one person to join him from the sixth floor. His fellow rider had cherry red sneakers with mesh across the toes, and the laces were twisted by someone in haste. The wearer wore white tube socks, pulled up–like someone who gets frequent shin splints. Like Sam. Bucky looked up.

When did Sam’s face have real definition to it? Hadn’t Sam Wilson always been a faint blur at his side, someone who tolerated him, but never seemed quite corporeal? He had a quizzical brow. His lips were moving, and Bucky watched without listening to what they said, exactly. Sam patted his cheek. Hard.

“Hello?” Sam’s voice reverberated in the otherwise empty elevator. Bucky blinked.

“Yeah. Yep.” He shook his head to bring back the cloudiness which dimmed his whole world to a faintly fogged-over grayscale. Try as he might…

Bucky Barnes was awake. Fully. Maybe for the first time.

He looked at Sam, really peered at him.

“Where did you just come from?” Sam’s phone was in his hand, screen unlocked like he was about to take action of some kind.

“A, uh… a girl–” Bucky stopped. “Sam. I… shit.”

Sam shook his head. “Oh. A girl? Do go on.”

“No, it’s just–I slept on eight. In the hallway.”

“...Last night?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s gaze slid to the button with an eight printed on it, worn where the two circles joined from thousands of presses. The number became nonsense the longer he stared at it. Circles, adjoining, turning on their side, becoming corneas, then irises–hers–and then spinning records on an endless turntable, and then–

“Are you good good, or should I be worried?”

Bucky’s attention bungeed back to the world of acute knowingness, where the scratches in the elevator doors were obvious and Sam wore red sneakers, and there was a girl and... Bucky grabbed Sam’s shoulders, looked him dead in the eye without daring to blink, and quieted his racing heart.

“There’s a doll–girl. On eight. Listens to swing music.”

Sam twisted his mouth in that way where he was trying not to poke fun at something Bucky was saying. Something he did a lot. Right? Bucky had always noticed it but never really clocked it for what it was. But then, Wilson smiled a little. He raised an eyebrow.

“A girl, huh?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. She likes my music.”

“How did you discover this?”

“I heard it really late last night through the vents,” Bucky remembered. It had been so clear… “So. I followed it to eight, and I sat down next to her door–”

“Because knocking would’ve been creepy as hell.”

“Right.”

“So, you… fell asleep.”

“Yes. She found me just now.”

“That’s embarrassing.” Sam shook him off as the elevator retreated for the smaller numbered floors once again, having crested in the penthouse but not received a Stark as payment for its journey there.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed. He rucked his cuffs up to his elbows, as if part of his embarrassment was being seen in long sleeves.

“Was she cute?”

The man, who had spent seven decades in service of an organization who routinely wiped his short term memory with thousands of volts of electricity, recalled her face clearer than he had ever seen anything in his life. Clearer than his own face in a mirror, clearer than Sam’s worried and amused and slightly judgmental expression. Bucky tried and failed to bite back a rush of embarrassment, toeing at the faux marbled-linoleum tile.

“Cute. Yeah.” If ‘cute’ were a sufficient way to describe the first flame of warmth after a lifetime of being numb, then yes. She was cute. Cute like a bolt of lightning.

“That’s good, man. You met a girl.”

Bucky’s head snapped up. He looked at Sam in panic. “I… I did.”

“What else do you know about her?”

“Um. She’s spec ops. Her name… shit.” Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “257. Agent 257.”

Sam practically gasped. “Your mystery girl is Y/n? Buck–that is some girl, man.”

“...is that a good thing?”

His friend… no, his primary best friend, really (when Steve Rogers wasn’t around, and Bucky had any amount of lucidity), let out a long breath. “That is a very good thing. I know her pretty well.”

Bucky reached over without looking and pressed the button to stop the elevator, making the emergency break deploy. The elevator abruptly halted just below the fifth floor. Immediately, the pleasant voice of FRIDAY began instructing both men not to panic, but the Falcon muted the speaker.

Sam crossed his arms and waited.

Bucky ran his hands over his face, and turned in three full circles, before bracing his hands on his knees to find the words to say what was going on inside his chest right about then.

“Please tell me more.”

Sam was quiet, but he smiled. He clasped Bucky’s shoulder. He squeezed. Hard. “Man. I… yeah. What do you wanna know?”

“Everything.”

***

Neither Bucky or Sam went to the gym that day, for the first day in a long time. Instead, the recovering Winter Soldier could be seen for several hours in the morning sitting on a bench at the curve of the path around the compound’s pond that was least obscured by trees, next to a man who might one day inherit an Avenger’s title. Bucky was silent, while his companion shared all that he knew about a girl–a woman, Sam reminded him–who lived on the eighth floor. It wasn’t hope that strangled him, listening to the other man describe the woman with whom he had shared a short elevator ride, but… awareness. He had been floating through the walls, hovering always on a distant plane with no real ground below him. Until now.

Now, the world was wider, and the woman was in it, too. He had to see her again. Just to know that his memory was accurate and reliable.

A long time passed, just sharing a bench with Sam. Bucky didn’t want to stand up, for fear that it would all fade away, but… “If it’s of any interest to you, she’s single,” Sam said gently.

Bucky folded in half, practically, leaning on his knees. He covered his mouth with both hands like he didn’t trust himself unmuzzled. He glanced at Sam, who was smirking and sitting back, arms crossed.

“Just saying.”

Bucky stammered. “I’m not–that’s not–”

“Mhm,” Sam snorted. “But if you were, and it was…”

“Wanna finish that?”

“I’m gonna let you do that, buddy. But… if you want my opinion?”

Bucky nodded once.

“Get yourself a woman like that, and you’ll be set. For life.”

“It’s not like that,” Bucky said, but he chewed the words like he didn’t want them to be true. God. Who was he to be thinking like that, anyway? One night and he was letting some woman get to him…

For once, when he closed his eyes, the image that greeted him wasn’t the terrifying stranglehold of darkness. The space behind his eyelids was peaceful. His mind’s eye was burnished orange from the sunshine, and one little trumpet lick tumbled lip-over-bell between his grey matter… Benny, of course.

Bucky was back there in his mind, at her door again. And she turned over her shoulder just as he woke in surprise, over and over again. He saw her for the first time, a million times. She was a story he told himself, like he used to tell his Ma about a film he had seen for a nickel.

She looked at me and I surfaced, Ma. I saw her and she wasn’t like Carole Lombard behind a vaseline-coated lens, all glowing and lit to perfection–meant to be looked at, but only admired from afar.

She saw me, too. Nobody sees me.

“Gotta gimme something here,” Sam said, nudging his shoulder. Bucky looked at him. He nodded. Sam nodded, and thumbed down the path from whence they had come several hours prior.

His legs were made of lead, but Bucky kept up. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

“She happens to eat lunch around noon in the community caf every day. Should you like to run into her again.”

“Is that a good idea?” Bucky’s throat was trying to close in on itself.

Sam shrugged. “Worth a try.”

“...how?”

“How, like... how do you talk to a woman?" Bucky's silence was enough to make Sam wince. "I haven’t had enough caffeine for this… lemme buy you a cup of coffee in said caf, and we’ll talk strategy.”

“That coffee is free.”

“If you don’t want the coffee–”

“No, no,” Bucky said quickly, near panic, “I want the coffee. I would like the coffee, thank you.”

Sam shook with laughter. “I thought you might.”

It would take a long time before Bucky could reconcile how he came to that particular moment–how the world conspired to put him at the door of a woman who owned a little piece of his distant life. How he could be so fortunate, after everything, that she–the doll, the girl… the woman…

was You.

***

other drabbles in the nftn universe:

if this is all we have

after prague

what happened in paris

the heir

birds

tag list: @peterhollandkait @morticiaofthedead @hogwartsahist0ry @harrietbaudelaire @general-kenobi357 @hawsx3 @subwaysurf45 @nahthanks @sergntbarnes @agni-l @mass-percussion @ayleehweasleyobrien @music-give-me-life

message to be added to the tag list :)