#i and others have been trying to get them to stop trying as they document it in vent

[ernmark]

When I was in college, a friend of mine got a job at one of the campus help centers where they're supposed to help students who are struggling get their feet under them.

Based on his training there, he insisted that he wanted to have a similar session with me in order to Fix me.

(This speaks volumes about the help the other students were getting, I think.)

See, the entirety of his assistance was sitting with me and creating a nice, tidy little schedule for my life in fifteen-minute increments, with tidy little spots for daily workouts and weekly meal prep. And he kept getting frustrated with me for not being able to put my activities for the day in any order, or assign them specific periods of time, or being willing to commit to following this militant schedule to the letter.

He wouldn't hear the fact that I'm a writer-- I have no control over when the words come. Sometimes I'll be doing something Very Important and I'll have to put it on hold because if I don't write this line of dialogue down Right This Second it's going to make it impossible for me to focus at all. Sometimes I'll be staring at a blank word document for two hours and get a sentence and a half done. Sometimes it'll be three in the morning and I'll have been writing for five hours straight but I won't be able to sleep until I get it written.

He wouldn't hear the fact that I have debilitating depression, and sometimes it takes hours to gather enough energy just to get dressed.

He wouldn't hear the fact that I don't actually know how long something like cooking is going to take, because every recipe calls for completely different cook and prep time, and I can't predict what's going to be utterly unappetizing until I look in the fridge for that meal.

There was no accommodation for the fact that I have a sleep disorder, which between the depression and the rest, makes it damn well impossible to predict when I'll be able to start sleeping, or when I'd need to wake up in order to be rested.

And that's what it comes down to-- there was absolutely no leniency or accommodation for anything outside of that ultra-disciplined, hyper-regimented approach. There was no allowance made for neurodivergence or disability of any kind. Despite knowing me for years at that point, he couldn't understand why I just didn't Try Harder. Clearly I'd succeed if I just did it his way.

A few things that did actually help me, for the record:

When there's something that I Know is going to occupy the entirety of my brain until I do it, I just freakin' stop whatever else I'm doing and do it. In my case, that's usually writing down whatever bit is in my head, but also it can be getting out of bed to make sure I turned the stove off, or making sure I locked the door, or paying my credit card bills in the middle of the night, or whatever.

A lot of my executive dysfunction is exacerbated by sugar/protein levels, so I keep a supply of protein shakes on-hand. It doesn't necessarily fix my depressive episodes, but it gets me out of those loops where I can't do X until I do Y until I eat and I have to eat first because if I don't eat now then I won't be hungry for dinner and then blah blah blah.

On that note: I can't control when/how I sleep, but I can control how many meals I eat during a day and roughly when they happen. Eating regularly helps to make the rest of my natural rhythms a little more predictable.

I have a short list of foods that my household can reliably eat and try to keep the ingredients for that stocked.

I do actually do a little bit of scheduling-- I set aside a few-hour-block on two days of my week to work out. Not because I Must do it, but so that I'm not preoccupied with the constant background radiation of "I should be working out more". If it's not Monday or Friday, it's not going to happen.

Forgiving myself for not being at peak productivity levels at all times. My boss will get what I have it in me to give them, and not more. My writing might not be at its best all the time, but it's a hell of a lot better than a blank page. Pushing myself past my limits to adhere to an impossible standard only exacerbates all those other problems.

[bwat5-blog]

A Heart Imprisoned: Vi's Time In Stillwater

**Spoilers For All Of Arcane**

Vi is all of fifteen years old, when she is kidnapped by the Sheriff of Piltover himself and thrown into the bowels of Stillwater prison. There she will spend seven years of horror, isolation, abuse, and fear. Accused of no crime, with her name not even on the record, she has no hope of escape or mercy until the naïve rookie Enforcer who will change her life comes to her cell.

What I want to try and delve into today, is the impact these seven years have on Vi as a person. Vi continues to be one of the most grossly misunderstood characters in this show. Even now I can come up with no logical explanation as to why, but that's okay. I don't think logic plays a big part in the anti-Vi crowd's day-to-day anyway. But! Still we soldier on, and hopefully by the end of this I can illuminate a tragic part of this remarkable character's story in a worthwhile way, and lend even more to the cause of helping see the humanity in her story.

Lead Up:

I have covered the events of Vi's childhood in heavy detail in other documents. So here, I will just run down a quick list for understanding.

Sees death of birth parents on bridge of progress: Age 9

Spends 6 years as part of family with Powder, Vander, Mylo and Claggor: Age 9 - Age 15

Vander, Mylo and Claggor all die violently in front of her. She barely survives brawl with more than ten armed thugs working for Silco, she is wounded during incident, she is separated from Powder in traumatic manner that leaves her ravaged by guilt.

Imprisoned for seven years until Caitlyn Kiramman frees her: Age 15 - Age 22.

To say Vi's life even before Stillwater has been harsh is a mild understatement to say the least. She begins her story in tragedy. And even though Vander and her siblings love her, the undercity is a hard and dangerous place to grow up. She is not saying things like "wanna see how that ends" to a knife wielding attacker at fifteen years of age because her life has been easy.

We also need to review a few telling things about Vi before her imprisonment to better understand the teenage girl who is sent to Stillwater.

"When people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish.. whatever happens, its on you"- This lesson of Vander's will come to haunt Vi's life for years. He gives her this speech entirely from a place of love and support, talking to her about being aware of the consequences of her decisions as the other kids look up to her. But when things go so..so wrong. Vi internalizes this to the point that she is unable to move on from the guilt of what occurred.

"I grew up knowing I'm less than them, that my place is down there. I want Powder to have more than that, and I'm willing to fight for it."- Take note of what she says. She doesn't protest that she isn't less than.. only that she wants Powder to have more. Vi tells us so early that she doesn't see more for herself. Only more for those that she loves, and that she is willing to bleed for it. And she will... over and over..

"I know you wanna hurt the topsiders for what they've done to us. But who are you willing to lose?"- Again, another of Vander's lessons that Vi tries to take to heart. it leads her to try and make the right decision to protect those she loves, and through no fault of her own ends with Vander taken, and Benzo and Grayson dead. She tried to stop fighting. Tried to lead with her heart and the world crushed her as a reward.

"You've got a good heart. Don't ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you"- See above.

"Take Care of Powder"- Again, this one is tough. Vander's last words to Vi are not of comfort to her, but instructing her. I am NOT bagging on Vander. Had things not gotten even worse Vi would have been the leader of their family now and Vander knew she could do it and was trying to help her be strong. Unfortunately, because things go so terribly, all it is is another source of guilt driving Vi into the dark.

Losing Powder:

Tragically, Powder in an attempt to save her families life detonates a monkey bomb that kills Mylo and Claggor, and initiates the series of events leading to Vander's death as well. All when they were so close to escape. Powder is a little girl. this is NOT her fault. And she is shocked when she comes around the corner to meet Vi's rage instead of praise...

But as I have stated. Vi was only fifteen and having been through all that she had, lashes out at her little sister. Hitting her, calling her a jinx, and aggressively grabbing her face before walking away in horror at her actions, stolen by Marcus before she can make it right.

Conclusion: So what does that all mean in a nutshell? A fifteen year old girl who has already lived a life of loss, and violence, has her entire family taken away her violently in one night, save for the little sister she feels she has betrayed. She is then thrown in a terrible, hellish prison, with the only thing to focus on being the loss of her family, Vander's lessons, and how she believes she failed him, her brothers, and most importantly, her sister.

"I spent so many nights, in that shitty prison. On the freezing floor, hungry, bloody, counting the hours. The only thing.. the only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you."

In Stillwater:

Thankfully for all of us who don't hate this character for breathing, we see none of what happens to her while she is in here outright. But there are a few things we know:

She is routinely assaulted- When she and Caitlyn are speaking she says to just send in whoever is going to hurt her so she can get on with her night. The warden confirms this with absolutely zero shame. And when Caitlyn opens Vi's cell, Vi is rolling her shoulders out like she is getting ready to fight.

There is no record of her or her crimes - Marcus locked her up with no trial, no paper trail, no nothing. She would have been kept there forever. Routinely beaten and totally stripped of her identity. Gee, I wonder why she tattooed her name on her face. They tried to erase her from existence.

She isn't in solitary all the time, as she had access to the tattooed goon she keeps wrecking throughout the show- I'd say this is probably the only reason she is at least slightly functional and still able to socialize in the real world to some degree.

A Layman's Understanding Of The Impact On Her:

First and foremost lets dispense with the obvious. I am not a mental health professional of any kind. But as an adult with a basic understanding of people I feel confidant saying that seven years in a violent prison being victimized and assaulted are what leads to the guarded young woman who has turned her body into a weapon that Caitlyn Kiramman meets that day. Cut off from any kindness, or love, or understanding Vi has hardened herself to the outside world because the last time she tried to do otherwise, her entire life was taken from her. And I am not going for the pity points or for dramatics. But she was fifteen... I'm going to guess something akin to her crying for someone to help her, or for her sister and than being viciously beaten is not outside of the realm of possibility. Her entire life has taught her over and over that the only thing she has to offer is her ability to do violence. An article from the University Of Santa Cruz a few years ago gives us more trustworthy information than my blathering:

"many prisoners "believe that unless an inmate can convincingly project an image that conveys the potential for violence, he is likely to be dominated and exploited throughout the duration of his sentence."

"prisoners may come to think of themselves as "the kind of person" who deserves only the degradation and stigma to which they have been subjected while incarcerated."

"For some prisoners, incarceration is so stark and psychologically painful that it represents a form of traumatic stress severe enough to produce post-traumatic stress reactions once released."

The need to keep up walls and hide their vulnerability, the hidden inner belief they are not worth any better, and deep seated trauma even manifesting as PTSD. Sound familiar? Not to mention the fact that is all started for her when she was fifteen and in the wake of a terrible loss.

I have seen many people lambasting Vi over her inability to cope with change or see that her sister has changed. Let me ask you folks a question. You see your entire family die in front of you, you are almost killed, you get thrown in a horrific and violent prison for no reason holding on to the hope of your last surviving family member, and then you get out and the sweet little girl you were ripped away from is a MURDERING. MENTALLY ILL. TERRORIST (Don't yell at me Jinx fans I'm just proving a point). How well do you think your going to cope?

This is just a drop in the bucket and absolutely a layman trying to learn a-little about how something so terrible would impact someone's emotional and mental health. But it was worth exploring. Like the grouchy broken record I am I have continued to proselytize to all of you regarding the humanity at the core of Arcane being its true heart. So the misunderstanding of perhaps the most human character in the show, someone who wants so badly to love, be loved, and to stand for those she cares for, well... Suffice it to say, I will keep playing this song for as long as I need to.

As always thank you for reading! Keep standing up for stories that matter. See ya next time.

[jrueships]

WHOEVER THE FUCK IS RECOMMENDING MED PPL TO GO INTO RADIOLOGY JUST CUS IF THE MONEY, IM GONNA FUCKING gET YOU

[edith-is-a-cat]

Fuck.

I wish I could help.

[buckyalpine]

CEO Bucky takes his anger out on his secretary (ft smut)

Imagine CEO!Bucky accidently taking his anger out on his already stressed out secretary. He gets mean and you will deal with it because I wanted this angst turned smut to go from chest itching to stomach fluttering. 

-

Your stomach twisted in knots looking at the pile of papers you had stacked on your desk, the phone still ringing while new messages popped up in your email inbox every 5 minutes. The files had to be organized by the next meeting and the number on the phone display was one you couldn’t ignore. The back to back messages were from various investors, each person insisting they were a priority over the others. You kept the receiver between your ear and shoulder, your hands flying around your desk madly between papers and tapping your keyboard. 

You quickly added a few more meetings to the calendar before hurrying to your bosses office to remind him of one he had later that afternoon. You hesitated before knocking at the door, the closed doors indicating he was busy, but you knew he’d want a heads up about the meeting. 

“Mr. Barnes, you have a meeting with Stark Enterprises at 3:30-

“Didn’t I tell you to move this meeting to next week?” Bucky snapped, blue eyes glaring at you while you blinked in confusion. “Well?” 

“N-no” You shook your head, you’d never missed an email before and you’d always been on top of scheduling changes on time. Bucky mumbled something under his breath before waving you off, the shrill sound of his phone going off. 

“Barnes” Bucky grunted, answering the phone without looking back at you, leaving to you scramble away and figure out if you could rearrange the date with Tony Stark. 

Which was a mess in itself. 

You had to argue back and forth, pleading to no end for a different day with Starks assistant only reluctantly agreeing after nearly half an hour. 

“You really should be more responsible, can’t believe Barnes has the likes of you working under him” the woman on the phone clicked her tongue before slamming down the receiver, cutting the call. You sighed, taking in a deep breath to calm the tightness you felt in your throat, you didn’t have time to break down now. 

You printed the up coming contracts for Bucky to sign, organizing them by name and highlighting the places he had to sign so he didn’t have to bother finding the space for signatures. You scurried back into his office, dreading the tense click of his jaw, your nerves increasing even more. 

“Sir, these are your papers-” You stumbled over the corner of the rug, scattering the papers onto the floor, your heart hammering out of your chest when you saw Bucky irritatedly run his fingers through his hair. 

“For fucks sake, y/n, I’m already stressed, don’t screw more shit up!” He growled, eyes hardening at the sight of the papers strewn across the floor of his office while you stayed frozen on the spot. Your eyes glossed over, quickly scrambling to the floor to grab the documents, mumbling apologies over and over again, hoping none of your tears stained the paper. The sight of tears streaking down your face broke Bucky out of his frustrated state, instantly regretting the tone he’d used with you. 

“Fuck” Bucky cursed under his breath, getting out of his chair to help you but you’d already managed to pick everything up, immediately trying to scramble away.

“Y/n” 

You didn’t stop, unable to take more of Bucky’s wrath, continuing to hurry towards the door, desperately trying to hold down your sniffles and aggressively wiping your cheeks. 

“Y/n” 

Bucky sighed, gently reaching out to grab your arm and pulling you to face him, his feeling even worse when you kept your eyes trained on the floor, your arms wrapped around yourself. 

“I’m sorry, p-please d-on’t yell” You choked out, still trying to hold your composure together, fighting the way your body wanted to break down into sobs 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry” his heart broke seeing the tears collecting in your lash line, his thumb swiping away the ones that spilled out. “M’sorry baby” he wasn’t sure where the pet name came from but he couldn’t help it, letting it naturally roll off his tongue. You were still rigid, refusing to look at him, nearly flinching when he pulled you closer, tilting your chin up to meet his steel blues. 

“Look at me” He spoke softly now, as if he were trying to coax a small animal out of hiding, his touch gentle, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you”

“It’s okay” you shrugged, slipping out of his hold, quickly wiping your face and going back to work as if nothing had happened. Even though he’d apologized, his words rang through your mind for the rest of the day. 

In fact, they stuck with you through the entire week. 

Bucky hated the way you didn’t even look at him anymore. He missed your soft good mornings and shy smile whenever he walked into his office. Now all you did was keep your head down, freezing in fear as soon as you heard his footsteps. And it was all his fault. 

He despised that he made you feel scared of him, his own anger being the cause of upsetting you when you had been nothing but sweet from the day he’d met you. You were also the best he’d ever had; no one else had ever come close to how brilliantly you worked; you never missed anything. He nearly spat out the coffee that was placed on his table, missing the perfect cup you made for him every morning. 

You only spoke 1-2 words, retreating from his office as soon as you got what you needed, your eyes always trained on the floor, looking away from him. He couldn’t take it anymore, feeling more guilty each day; he couldn’t go on any longer without your sweetness. 

You blinked at the baby pink roses that sat in a basket on your desk along with a little bear placed on top, a small hand made I’m Sorry heart sitting in its furry hands, clearly in Bucky’s handwriting. You traced over the soft teddy holding it in your hands before going to his office. Before you could say anything, Bucky was up and out of his seat, desperately hoping you’d hear him out. 

“M’sorry y/n” His soft eyes were filled with sadness and regret as he reached out to hold your hands in his, not wanting you to run off again, “I’m so sorry angel, there’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have yelled at you” 

“It’s fine” You whispered, still avoiding his gaze. 

“Hey, it’s not fine” Bucky shook his head, cupping your face to make you look at him, “It’s not baby, I shouldn’t have ever treated you that way. You do everything for me, I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you” 

“I shouldn’t have messed u-

“Don’t, absolutely not. You never do sweets, it was me who messed up. Never you. Will you forgive me, doll?” Bucky nervously bit his lip while you gave him a small nod, that adorable shy smile he loved so much making its way to your lips. 

“God, I missed this” He whispered, his thumb tracing over your lips, chuckling at the tiny confused pout you gave him after.

“What did you miss” 

“This little smile you always have whenever you’re around me” Bucky smirked at the way you grew more bashful, doe eyes darting about, “Do you have any idea how much I love when you look at me like that?” 

“Mr-Mr. Barnes” Your breath hitched in your throat as his hands slowly moved to hold your waist, pulling you closer. Your hands made their way to his chest to ground yourself, forgetting how to breathe as he pressed his lips against yours. It started off soft and slow; his sweet tongue turning sinful as he walked over to his chair, pulling you to straddle him without breaking apart once. You let out a needy whimper feeling him harden under you though Bucky was still focused on kissing your soft skin, his lips fluttering across every inch. 

You’d never been this close to Bucky before, the intoxicating scent of his cologne making your heart race, his calloused large hands roaming your body. You hadn’t even realized you were grinding down on his thick bulge until he let out a groan, stilling your hips. 

“Keep that up bunny and you’ll make me cum in my pants like a little boy” Bucky let out a strained chuckle, using every bit of his self restraint not to tear your clothes off. 

“Please?” You wiggled against him again, needing to be closer, Bucky’s resolve slowly crumbling. How could he hold back when you were practically humping your soaked needy cunt right on his erection. 

“Please what, sweets” 

“Need you Sir” your voice had melted in a whine and that was all it took. The sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor caused more arousal to dampen your panties, nearly drooling at the sight of his cock as he pulled it out. 

“Are-are you sure?” He checked with you once more, not wasting a second ripping your blouse off as soon as you nodded. He threw your bra off next before lifting your skirt up and pulling your panties to the, rubbing his fingers through your folds. 

“Sir, pleasee” 

“I got you, I got you baby. Wanted to make love for our first time angel, give you a bed with rose petals n’ champagne over ice” He whispered, recounting every fantasy he’d thought of from the day he’d met you, “Wanted to make you feel good baby, throw your legs over my shoulders and nurse off this little clit”

He rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves, continuing. 

“N’ then you’d be my sweet pillow princess. I’d let you lie down all night while I fuck your soul angel. I’d give you my cum all night, pump you full of my cream” 

“Need you now” You whimpered, clutching onto the lapels of his blazer, not that you didn’t want everything he was telling you but you couldn't wait. 

“Alright baby, c’mere” He pulled you closer, your bare chest pressed against his as he rubbed his swollen cockhead to gather your slick before breeching your tight hole, his hips gently pushing up till he was buried to the hilt, “That’s it, shhh take all of me” 

Bucky gave you a second to adjust to his size, his wide hands splayed across your body to hold you in place as he began to thrust up. You gasped in pleasure, your voice melting into a moan as he picked you up and placed you on his desk, pushing your thighs to hit your chest, hitting an even deeper angel. 

“OH GOD-MR-BARNES” You wailed as he fucked you harder, his heard thrown back, tie loosened, tightening the grip he had on your legs, keeping you spread out wide open. He groaned at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you while you moaned and sobbed on his desk, taking everything he gave you. 

“That’s right baby, say my name, let everyone know who makes you feel this good” He grunted through gritted teeth, holding off his orgasm while bringing his thumb to rub your clit again. 

“I-I’m gonna-OH-GOD-PLEASEE

“Fuck you sound perfect” Bucky moaned feeling you choke his length, fluttering and pulling him deeper as your orgasm washed over you, his own release dangerously close. “God you feel so fuckin’ good when you cum baby. One more angel, just one more” Bucky practically pleaded with you, speeding up his fingers till he saw your eyes roll back, silent screams leaving your mouth as your juices soaked his balls. 

“Fuck m’cumming so hard for you baby” He groaned, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before stilling and spilling ropes of cum into you. He kept his cock inside while bending down to pick you up and sit back in his chair again. He sat with you for a while, petting your hair and kissing you, whispering sweet nothings. 

“Ready to go?” He whispered, looking down to see if you’d fallen asleep while you snuggled into him with your eyes closed. 

“Too tired sir” You pouted, nuzzling into his chest, refusing to move, your body too fucked out to even stand. 

“I got you baby” Bucky smiled, shrugging off his blazer and wrapping you up before carrying you away in his arms, ready to take you home, right where you belonged “Gonna make love to my pretty girl” 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can you please do a part two of the Sebastian fluff where he lets his thoughts get the best of him and gets anxious that reader now sees him as a monster because of what they read on his document so he prepares extra good items and plans to give them heavy discounts and even some free but reader barges in like

"MANTIS SHRIMP??? PUNCH SOMETHING RIGHT NOW"

And after a bit of reassuring(possibly some punching too bc reader is too starry-eyed for him to say no to em) Seb realizes he trully never had anything to worry about and just, generally grows fonder of reader?

Ps. Adore your writing, keep up the awesome work!!

"God, why did I let them take it? Stupid, stupid, stupid.."

Sebastian couldn't stop beating himself up, even though he knew he shouldn't care about the opinion of any human sent by Urbanshade--especially one of the "expendable" class.

Yet because it was you, specifically--who was currently in possession of his document--he began to wonder what you'd think of him once you found out the truth:

That he was nothing but a horrible monster. Plain and simple.

If not the knowledge that he was a hideous chimera of several sea creatures' DNA...then surely the revelation that he caused the lockdown of the Blacksite would ultimately make you resent him.

He released all those creatures, who stopped at nothing to prevent you from reaching the crystal and had you running, fighting, or hiding for your life.

He was responsible for all the injuries you've sustained while crawling into his shop, desperately needing a medkit and a place to rest.

He would understand if you'd never want to visit him again after what they documented about him..but the image of your furious expression and overthinking the words you'd possibly say to him left him feeling incredibly anxious.

Suddenly, Sebastian found himself gathering more supplies. Medkits, code breakers, and every light source he had currently in the shop, trying to market down whatever he could. He was even willing to let you take batteries for free...which was something he'd never normally do.

Would it be enough to make up for everything horrific you discovered about him and the terrors he indirectly put you through? Absolutely not.

Was he willing to try it anyways just for the small chance that you'd keep visiting him? Maybe.

No other human has shown him a single ounce of kindness or gratitude for his services. Nobody except you, of course, and he refused to lose that.

-thump, thump-

"Shit.." He froze, hearing movement in the vent duct, hands trembling for his light to shine brighter. Part of him wishes he could stay in the dark, as he didn't wanna see your face and whatever hurt expression it could possibly hold.

But he knew it'd be rude if you actually needed to buy something, so he forced himself to look as your familiar figure crawled out of the small opening. You seemed out of breath, like you were just running from something, and stood up to dust the dirt off your pants.

"Sebastian..I need to know something, and you need to be 100% honest with me."

The moment you pulled out his document, the shopkeeper could feel his heart sink.

"Wh..What did you want to know?" He asked, already bracing himself for the worst.

You sounded dead serious, and he was convinced you were finally going to let him have it.

You were going to force him to explain himself and his actions, and tell him what a monster he truly was. Literally and metaphoric-

"Its it true that you have mantis shrimp DNA????"

Silence.

Of all the possible outbursts he expected from you, that certainly didn't cross his mind.

Sebastian just stared down at you, utterly dumbfounded. He blinked several times, unsure if he was truly seeing the wide smile and starry-eyed look on your face.

He had been waiting for a deep scowl, eyes full of anger and betrayal and sadness that he wasn't the "friend" he claimed himself to be when you first visited his shop.

Yet now? He saw nothing but pure delight in your expression.

"Um..yes. But of alllll the things you read about me, that shocked you the most?" He was still treading carefully.

"Well, it sucks that you were an innocent guy who got thrown into a shitty situation." You gestured to him, frowning a little. "And I'm sorry you never saw justice, but...it's just SO cool that you're part mantis shrimp!" A grin returned to your face. "They've fascinated me for years! I used to watch videos of them all the time. Did you know the velocity of just one of their punches is equal to a .22 caliber bullet-?"

"Stop." He put a hand up, huffing. "At least some part of you must resent me. I mean...helloooooo, did you skip over the bit where I'M the reason those monsters are after you?! There's no way you could've ignored that..unless your brain turned off the moment you read "mantis shrimp"."

"I read everything, Sebastian." You huffed back. "Look, if I ever had to go through what you did..I think I'd wanna rebel, too. And as much as those monsters scare me, they've probably endured the same experiments as you. They probably felt just as trapped and afraid. You must see at least a few of them as your friends, right?"

"Eyefestation and the PAInter are the only ones I consider "acquaintances"." He answered after a long pause, shoulders slumped. "The anglers are primitive, but they recognize me as the one who freed them, so they don't bother me or my shop. The only creature that tends to be an issue is-"

-thump-

-thump-

Tensing, you looked over your shoulder to see a Wall Dweller emerge from the vent behind you, its mouth split open and drooling with hunger, standing on two legs.

"-that." Sebastian glared at the creature; and before it could run away, he blocked the entrance with his tail fin. "Oh no you don't." He swooped over to grab ahold of its head with his third hand, causing it to shriek and kick its legs as he held it up high. "You seriously need to stop eating my customers when they're trying to BUY SOMETHING!!"

The Dweller just growled at him, to which he ignored it and glanced down at you. "What should I do with this thing?"

"Punch it!" You grinned, your fists balled up in front of you as you hopped up and down. "I wanna see how fast you could throw one!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Pleeeeaaase?"

"..ugh, if it gets that stupid puppy-eyed look off your face, fine." He looked back at the Dweller, grinning widely as he cracked his knuckles. "You wanna eat something so bad? Try this."

"....grahh-?"

In a blinding flash, his fist went through the creature's skull, effectively turning its head into dust. Then he dropped the whole body onto the ground with a grimance. "Eugh..never done that before.."

Then he looked down at you again, seeing your smile brighten. "Hope that made you happy."

"It did, that was amazing!" You laughed, kneeling down to rip off a chunk of the Dweller's flesh. He eyed you strangely, his expression changing to a look of horror as you shoved a piece in your mouth.

"What the f...why would you eat that?!"

"It's okay! I've had this stuff before." You swallowed, feeling rejuvenated already.

"B....Before?! What you're eating is clay and acid-"

"Actually, it's fresh meat. Reminds me of poultry, almost. I found a document somewhere saying that it has regenerative properties." You explained to Sebastian, whose eyes only widened the more you talked. "I didn't believe it at first until I saw the Angler kill one. I was hungry and...eating it healed my electrical burn somehow."

".......why was that not in its actual document?" He muttered.

You shrugged, ripping out another piece and offering it to him. "Care for a bite?"

"I'll..pass. But thanks." Lowering his body closer to you, he frowned. "Are you absolutely sure that-?"

"I'm sure."

"..you didn't even know what I was going to-"

"You were worried about my reaction to your file. I could tell from the discount signs and how you were scared to even look at me."

"............."

"But I promise it doesn't change anything, okay? We're still friends, Sebastian, and I'll still swing by to do business with you." You reassured him, smiling as you patted the back of his hand, before noticing the bandage on his third arm seemed bloody. "Um..when's the last time you changed that?"

"...oh this? Erm..it's fine." He attempted to hide it behind his back. "Nothing you should be concerned abou-"

"Too late. It's my concern now. Let me repay you for saving my tail."

He had no time to protest, as you were already on your feet and running for the medkit that was on the table. You weren't worried about getting to the next zone right now.

Not that Sebastian planned on kicking you out anytime soon.

No.

Now that he was able to confide in you, he was genuinely beginning to enjoy your company--especially as you asked him to rest his arm across your lap. From there, your gentle hands went to work changing the bandage out for a fresh one, using an alcohol spray to keep the wounds from getting infected.

He hissed and cursed a few times at the stinging pain, but not once did he try to get you to stop.

Suddenly, it all began to hit him in this exact moment.

You were willingly playing nurse to a giant sea monster that has killed a man and was responsible for the terrifying things you had to witness down here.

He couldn't understand..but at the same time he felt relieved that all along he had nothing to worry about.

"Th-That's fine..thank you.."

Hearing a sniffle, you glanced up as Sebastian hastily took his arm away, "standing" back up and turning away from you. You just smiled and patted his tail comfortingly, not saying a word as you waited for him to collect himself.

For once, that snarky and sarcastic fish you've come to know was gone, and he was letting his walls down, finally realizing he could trust you.

Eventually he fell silent, and you wondered what to do now. You bought everything you wanted to earlier, so you didn't wanna overstay your welcome-

"Do you mind staying for a little bit longer?"

The question surprised you, but you smiled and nodded. "Sure. As long as you don't mind, shrimpy."

There was a pause, and he slowly looked back at you, pouting. "Big talk coming from someone as tiny as you, friend." He playfully sneered.

You just laughed and shook your head, glad to see him in better spirits.

Thanks to that scrambler on his back, you didn't have to worry about HQ getting on your ass about continuing the mission or threatening detonation.

You could definitely stay awhile and ramble about more mantis shrimp facts to Sebastian...if he was willing to hear them, of course.

[reidrum]

the prophecy part 1:

cards on the table, mine played out like fools in a fable | s.r.

A/N: trying something new…..this one’s been on my mind for too long and the angst hurt too good. sorry in advance ! perhaps a part 2 who’s to say ..,,,..,. ?

cw: bau!fem!reader, spoilers for prison arc, implied talks of SA (referring to when lindsey doses spencer in mexico), maeve donovan, just angst bro this doesn’t end well

summary: you and jj accompany spencer to cat’s correctional facility to play her games, except there’s more than one loser

wc: 2.1k

part 2

——————————————————————————

Cat Adams’ taunts and demands have led Spencer, JJ, and you to visit her in her correctional facility to play whatever game she has for him. Emily had you and JJ go with him given his erratic state from just being released, in hopes that you both could regulate and monitor the whole meeting.

You and JJ watch Spencer walk in stoically, sitting down across from Cat as she smiles at him. He angrily demands for his mother’s location, but she gets upset and tells him that he doesn’t get to treat her like a criminal. She only agrees to tell him the location if he plays her game, and figures out the secret she knows about Spencer.

Spencer’s brain works overtime to figure out what he’s missing, what Cat could possibly be holding against him that would make him deny the truth of it. He runs through all the scenarios; Spencer being able to now understand how it feels to have a parent used as a pawn, Cat wanting him to admit his love for her. But she shakes her head and reveals that a clue was left in a scrapbook in Spencer’s apartment.

You remember you took a picture of it when you went with Spencer to scope it out, and pulled it out to show JJ.

“Is that an X and a Y?” She ponders, “What could that mean?”

“I think it’s…” You stop halfway, realizing what it means. Your face drops and you look back in the room to watch Spencer come to the same conclusion.

“We’re pregnant!” Cat sings.

You and JJ look at each other in shock, the blonde’s voice slowly drowning out as you sink further into the Cat shaped hole. You vaguely hear her mention going to the guard to find her medical records, but all you can think about is how she could be bearing Spencer’s child.

Spencer and you had been together for a little over two years now. While still in the relative early stages, a lot about your relationship had been figured out and solidified. It was the most secure you’d ever felt with anyone, and despite the road bumps with Mexico you felt that you both came through it as well as any couple would in that situation.

You loved Spencer, and Spencer loved you. Right now was just another one of those road bumps, just like Mexico. That’s what you needed to tell yourself.

JJ bursts through the door with the medical documents, “I got them.” breaking you out of your spiral. You both anxiously look at the paper to find a little (+) sign ticked next to the pregnant box.

Cat Adams really was pregnant. You think you could be sick, you feel JJ’s hand grip your arm in an attempt to tether you back down, but it’s a futile effort. Your brain has already taken the information and ran a billion different directions with it, each coming up with a more crazy conclusion.

You stare blankly into the interrogation room as Spencer vehemently denies the child being his, denying any such way that it could even be his. The disbelief is ruling his words as he shuts down any theory that gives it truth, until Cat reminds him of the heavy dose he was given in Mexico. It hit him then, if he could barely remember the third person in that room, he had no bearing on whatever else transpired.

Spencer tries not to let the anxiety and shock show on his face as he sits down to face Cat in the eyes, “How did you do it?”

“I gave Lindsey very specific instructions to get you in the mood.”

“She pretend to be you?”

“Why, would that have worked?”

“No.” he says sternly.

She pauses, ego clearly bruised, “Yeah, I know. I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid "Hot or Not" list. I told her to pretend to be Maeve. Maeve Donovan, who had her brains blown out right in front of you before you two could even kiss.”

Spencer’s face falls. No, he thinks, no no no. He looks back at the one way window behind him, knowing very well he can’t see you but you’re watching everything unfold disastrously.

Your heart drops so fast it could have very well been seismic. To your horror, Cat continues.

“I thought about telling her to pretend to be your little BAU girlfriend,” she chuckles, “But then I realized, you only had one love of your life. and you won’t let anyone else measure up.” She leans in closer, “By the way, I know that you still think about Maeve when you’re, you know, with your little crime fighter over there. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” She gives an over exaggerated wink to the window.

Spencer feels like he’s seeing white, anger coursing through his body as the reality of his situation comes to a head. He’s definitely not thinking when he pushes the table aside harshly, grabbing Cat by the collar and pushing her against the wall. He’s only able to stop when JJ is beside him suddenly attempting to pull him back, reminding him that she’s pregnant.

His fists are clenched and without a second thought he storms out of the room, his tunnel vision taking him right past you and JJ.

JJ doesn’t know what to do, she looks back into the room to see Cat smirking to herself, and god if she didn’t have morals she’d finish what Spencer started. She thinks it’s wise to go after Spencer and check on him, knowing that Cat’s timer is still ticking and the faster he gets back in there the sooner they can find his mother.

But then she looks at you and suddenly her feet are rooted next to yours.

She lays her hand on your shoulder and gently speaks, “Hey, I’m right here okay?”

You nod mindlessly, hoping you can keep the ocean of tears at bay with whatever resolve you can muster. She squeezes her hand at your acknowledgment and doesn’t move.

How is she supposed to even comfort you? How are you supposed to process this?

You knew how important Maeve Donovan was to Spencer. The whole thing had happened a year before you joined the team, only having heard the story through your teammates. It was tragic, there was no other way to put it, and your heart clenched for Spencer for having to go through that by himself. When you both first started dating, he disclosed the more intimate details to you, wanting nothing to be left unspoken about his past to affect his future with you.

What a cruel twist of fate.

“I—I think,” you stutter, “I have to go, JJ, I can’t be here right now.”

“But—“ She starts.

You cut her off, “No, JJ you have to go talk to Spencer and get him back in there. The longer his mom is with Lindsey…” you trail off.

She nods, understanding that you’re thinking about the priorities right now, “Okay, okay I’ll go find him. Where are you going to go?”

You could go home, the one you share with Spencer. Or you could go back to the office, the one you also share with Spencer.

Every realization adds another needle to your stack, and you’re about to crumble under the weight. “I—I don’t know.” You whimper.

JJ closes her eyes to think quickly and grips your shoulders, “Go back to the BAU okay? I’m going to call Emily and tell her to expect you back, you go straight there, do you understand me?” she emphasizes. JJ is smart enough to know that you cannot be alone right now, and that Spencer wouldn’t be able to scrounge up whatever focus he could into getting answers from Cat if he knew you had left by yourself to god knows where.

All you could do was nod, and hope and pray that your feet would carry you to the car and back to the bureau. JJ was nervous having you drive back, but she really didn’t have a choice. All she could do was notify Emily, as well as Penelope for tracking purposes, that you were headed back, and to not ask you too many questions.

After you left, JJ stood in the waiting room for a brief moment before going to find where Spencer went. She finds him sitting on the floor of an unused interrogation room with his head tucked into his knees.

She speaks quietly to not startle him, “Hey.”

He looks up at the voice, JJ noticing his eyes flit around and behind her as if looking for something, or someone. His eyes sulk back when he’s unable to find it.

Spencer opens his mouth to speak, “Is she—“

“She’s going back to the BAU, Emily knows she’s on the way,” she cuts him off already anticipating his question, “Listen, whatever you’re feeling about what just happened right now has to be paused. You need to focus and finish this stupid game with Cat so we can find your mother and be done with her.” She grits out.

He sighs shakily, he doesn’t even want to think about what must be going through your head. As much as it pained him to experience her vitriol first hand, you were on the other side of that window listening to every word Cat spewed out. And somehow, knowing you watched all of that hurt worse than Mexico, worse than Tobias Hankel, and even worse than Maeve Donovan.

Cat was playing a deeply fucked psychological game with him, and she had now called you in as a pawn. You, his darling girl. The one who made him see the light of the sun after it was constantly being put out, the one who loved him through his mother’s illness and wrongful imprisonment, the one who is, with all and every bit of certainty, the love of his life.

If the velvet black box in his sock drawer was any testament to the power that love held, he hoped it would take mercy on him in this moment.

He stands up and paces the room for a moment before kicking the chair to the other side of the room. JJ startles, her eyes widening but attempting to remain neutral faced as Spencer sorts out his emotions.

“Spence, we need to focus,” she reminds him, “Time is running out.”

“I know,” he mumbles and paces the room hoping to have a stroke of insight, “I have an idea.”

———

You must be no better than a zombie in the final apocalypse when you walk into the bullpen, stumbling around with glassy eyes, no regard for what’s in your way. The apathetic coping mechanism you’ve deployed almost makes you seem as mindless as those monsters, if it weren’t for Penelope to show up and steady you.

“I gotcha, honey,” She makes eye contact with Emily, acknowledging that she’s got you, before turning back to you again, “Come here, let’s sit down.” Penelope sits you down in the nearest chair and drags another one for her to sit right next to you.

You don’t speak for an hour after sitting. Penelope doesn’t ask, only checking in every ten minutes to see if you want a snack or some water, to which you shake your head no every time. She’s too busy typing away on her laptop getting information that could help the team find Spencer’s mother, the last thing you want to be is a bump in the road for them.

Another hour passes before the team exits the conference room, alerting you and Penelope that they think they’ve found the cabin where Diana and Lindsey are. Emily gathers everything they need before approaching you in the bullpen.

“Do I have to be here when you guys come back?” You ask quietly.

Emily sighs, understanding the gravity of your circumstance, “No, you don’t. Will you let Garcia drop you home though? Give us all a peace of mind.” She chuckles humorlessly, unknowingly squeezing the other shoulder JJ didn’t.

You know the ‘all’ she’s referring to really just means one person. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but you don’t think it’s meant to. She brings you in for a tight hug, “I’ll check on you after, okay?”

You nod and release from her embrace. Penelope gathers her things next to you and you both walk to the elevator.

“Honey,” It pained Garcia to see you like this, and she didn’t know how she could help, “What can I do?”

You sniffle and shrug, there isn’t much she can do. There isn’t even much that you could do. Not that anything you could do would be enough, it was never enough. Not for you, not for the team, and not for Spencer.

With a bitter chuckle you answer Penelope’s question,

“Bring back Maeve.”

[eelnoise]

one night/all night

law x fem!reader (nsfw!)

week 2 of small kinktober!

>an accidental stumble over some mysterious spores leaves both you and your captain at wits end.

cw: sex pollen, multiple orgasms, dom!law, oral sex (both), begging, semi-public sex an: god damn this one kicked my ass. but i'm finally happy with it. enjoy! wc: 4.7k

Trafalgar Law is no stranger to the oddities of this world. He's chased curiosity across enough oceans to work the fruits of his labor into a lifelong goal. 

In his pursuit for knowledge, Law bands a crew of his careful choosing together to aid with the task. Made up of dearest friends and closest confidants, the Heart Pirates are deeply loyal to their captain—even if he feels unworthy of it. 

This includes you. Brought aboard for your experience with botany and overall usefulness, you had fit in quickly—going so far as garnering Law's trust with enough relative ease that even he's grown deeply attached to you. 

He brings you in tow for most of his errands on land, not all of which you're privy to, but never once do you pry or question and Law's come to need that comfort more than he'd care to say. 

With his business concluded with his acquaintance, Law exits the small coastal cottage and finds you in the nearby clearing, sitting on your haunches and hovering over what looks like a pair of bright green mushrooms with your sketchbook in your hands.

He isn’t intentionally trying to be quiet as he strides up behind you. However, when he calls out your name, you yelp in sudden surprise, toppling forward and into whatever you had been focused on. The sole of your boot catches on one of the fungi, uprooting it, while the other disintegrates beneath your knee. The remnants hiss ominously, releasing plumes of spores from their caps that are immediately swept away by the breeze, swirling directly into both of your faces.

You try your best to roll out of the way as Law attempts to ease the situation with use of his devil fruit, but he’s too late to get the bulk of the remaining spores. 

Law’s eyes water as the spores hit his face, and he can’t help but cough and sputter. He wipes his eyes and looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and concern. “Would you please stop touching strange plants?” he asks, though his tone is far from polite.

"No. That was all you." you reply with a frown, trying to play cool despite the frustrated look on your face. The spores had caught you off guard too, filling your lungs with a strange tingling sensation that seems to be lingering. “You’re the one sneaking around like a fucking cat.”

Law's eyes narrow at your accusation, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the spores still floating in the air. He can feel them affecting his senses, making everything seem more vivid and intense. He takes a step closer to you, his gaze locked onto yours.

"I was not sneaking," he says, low and controlled. "I simply didn't want to disturb you while you were so focused on your work. But now that I see the mess you've made, I can't help but wonder if you're even capable of handling a simple task without causing chaos."

You roll your eyes at him and rise to your feet, brushing the dirt off your sketchpad and tucking it into your pack before doing the same with your boiler suit. "I was trying to document enough of it for research back on the sub, which is, you know, my job."

Law shakes his head and pinches his nose with a sigh. "Doesn't matter. Now let’s go; we don’t have much daylight left." He turns on his heel and starts walking, clearly expecting you to follow.

As you fall into step beside him, Law can't help but notice the way his attention seems to be constantly drawn to you. Your movements are slightly more exaggerated, your breathing a bit heavier than usual. He tries to focus on the path ahead, but finds his gaze constantly drawn to your form.

"What exactly were you hoping to learn from those mushrooms?" he asks, more to distract himself than out of genuine curiosity. "I thought your expertise was more in... practical plants."

He can feel the heat of your body next to his, the scent of your skin mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest. It's intoxicating and though he knows he should just take the lead—to put you out of sight even if temporarily—but he can't bring himself to stray too far from you.

Part of you wants to argue—to explain just how and why he’s wrong, and how his position as your captain doesn’t excuse the sheer audacity of his words. Yet you sigh in defeat; it simply isn’t worth it.

"To be fair, they may very well have been 'practical,'" you begin, wiping the uncomfortable sweat from your brow. "The plan was to sketch it, take some notes, and look into my books back on in my room for more information."

"Plus, I was bored. You were taking a while, you know?" You look up at him, and the way he’s already looking back down at you makes the heat rise in your neck.

Law's eyes flicker to your face, taking in the flushed cheeks and the quick breaths. "Boredom is no excuse for recklessness," he mutters, his tone a little rougher than intended.

The dusty road widens into the overgrown remnants of what was once this island's capital. Charred ruins of stone and wood mark the past, leaving behind winding streets of crumbling buildings covered in ash and soot, the smell of smoke lingering in the dry air.

Acres of scarred, lifeless land remain forever trapped in its moment of doom. It’s a bleak sight—and that’s putting it lightly.

Law leads the way down the debris-strewn street. He keeps his senses on high alert, scanning the dilapidated buildings for any signs of movement or danger, but the heat is oppressive, and it only adds to the growing tension coiling in his gut.

Silence falls between you, and Law’s mind begins to wander. His fist clenches tightly around the brim of his hat, both troubled and irritated. Those spores have surely fucked with him, and now he’s faced with the circumstance of it being you that fate has left him in this condition with.

He just had to keep you instead of allowing you to pair off with Ikkaku. Didn’t he? He could have He could have—should have—gone it alone, but this time, his damn pride may finally be his fall.

Though he can’t deny the effect it’s having on him—the way his heart races and how his body responds to your closeness. He’s always been attracted to you, convinced he didn’t have the time or reason to piece it all together, but this feels... different.

Law doesn't know if he's angry at himself or if he's frustrated with you—accident or not, those spores are doing something to him. There's no other way to explain the artificial intensity pumping through his veins.

The grip on his sword tightens, the hilt digging into his palm as he struggles to focus on the weight of his duty instead of the intoxicating allure of the way you look, the scent that envelops him, and the mesmerizing way your body moves beside him, each glance a reminder of the reckless desire brewing within.

Meanwhile your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, most of them incoherent and centered around the growing desire that seems to be tangling in your belly.

Sweat trickles down your neck, and your skin feels like it’s tingling. What the fuck is this heat? 

Your first instinct is to blame the spores, for while yearning for your captain is nothing new, this longing feels heightened, almost overwhelming, as if the very air around you has stoked a smoldering desire deep inside.

You’ve encountered your share of strange plant life, but a mycelium with enough substance to trigger this much of a response from a fully grown person? Nearly impossible.

But what the hell do you know?

Trying to push away your thoughts, you force your steps to match the rhythm of Law’s. You can feel his gaze, acutely aware of how he leans in occasionally to avoid brushing against you. The tension between you is palpable, and it's making you feel a little disoriented.

You’re unsure how much longer you can maintain the charade of feigned composure. Every step feels heavy, and every breath is shallow and labored. The heat of the sun is nothing compared to the fire building inside you, threatening to consume you whole.

You lose count of Law’s footsteps as you try to cool off by fanning yourself, pulling your hair up, and drinking your fair share of water from the bottle you carry in your pack—but nothing seems to help. Something’s gotta give, or you’re going to melt.

Without a shred of a second thought, you unzip the heavy suit and slide your arms out of the sleeves, tying them around your waist. You sigh in relief as the breeze flows over your arms and through the thin fabric of your tank top, but it does little to truly soothe the lingering heat between your thighs.

Law's breath catches in his throat as he hears the sound of your zipper. He tries to keep his eyes forward, but his gaze is drawn to your form like a magnet. The sight of your exposed skin, glistening with sweat in the fading sunlight, sends a bolt of pure lust straight to his core.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. The heat that had been building inside him reaches a new level, and he can feel his cock straining against the confines of his pants.

Trafalgar Law's eyes rake over you, taking in the sight of your flushed skin and the way your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths. The emphasis of his tone iis rough as he asks, "How do you feel?"

It's a loaded question, one that he hopes will reveal just how much those spores have affected you. He's afraid to know the answer, but he can't help but want to hear it.

Your voice wavers slightly as you try to maintain a facade of calm. "I... I'm not sure," you admit, your eyes unable to break away from his intense gaze. "Hot. Really hot."

You take a step closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The air between you feels charged, electric. "Are you okay?" you ask him in a soft whisper.

Law's eyes widen at your question, surprised by your boldness. He hadn't expected you to be so direct, so forthcoming about what you were feeling. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you until your bodies are almost touching.

Law's fist clenches at his side, knuckles turning white. He's not okay. He's so far from okay it's laughable. But he can't tell you that. He can't tell you about how he's been left him in a state of constant arousal, that every nerve ending in his body is screaming for attention, for relief. 

For you.

"I’m fine," he replies through gritted teeth, the lie lingering in the air between you. He can smell you now; the scent of your sweat is intoxicating, pulling him further into disorientation.

"You don't look fine. Maybe I can–" You trail off, your eyes growing into a half-lidded daze as you trail down his body, taking a long look at the way his muscles ripple in his arms before snapping back up to his face with an awkward cough that doesn't really hide anything.

Your eyes meet Law's, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You see the desire burning in his eyes, mirroring the heat coursing through your veins.

You take another step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches out, fingers trembling slightly as they brush against his chest. "Maybe I can help," you whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing pulse.

He feels his resolve crumbling with your touch, your sultry tone and hungry gaze sending shivers down his spine. He wants to push you away, to maintain his composure, but his body betrays him.

"You don't understand," he grunts, tilting his face away from you. But even as he speaks, his hands are moving of their own accord, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. "I can't... I shouldn't..."

This isn’t how he wanted this to go.

"Law," your voice calling his name eases the rumble in his head, instantly clearing the chaos of his relentless thoughts. "I want to help you. Anything..."

Law's pupils dilate at your words as something snaps within him, crashing his lips against yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His hands pillow the impact as you're shoved against the cast-off remains of a building built from stone. He nips at your bottom lip, urging you to open for him, and when you do, he plunges his tongue into your mouth, claiming you with a passion that steals the breath from your lungs.

Law's grip on your hips tightens, pulling you closer until you can feel the hard length of his cock pressed against your belly. The heat between you is palpable, as is the need that rolls off him in waves.

"Tell me you want this," he growls into you, lips barely breaking contact with yours. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

Your breathing hitches as his demand echoes in your ears. You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of giving in. But then, you look deep into his eyes, seeing the hunger reflected in your own.

"Yes," you whisper,  trembling with desire. "I want this. I need you, Captain."

Law's eyes flash with triumph, and he wastes no time in responding to your plea. His hands move to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he wraps your legs around his waist. He pins you against the stone wall, his hips grinding against yours in a rhythm that's both torturous and exhilarating.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves as if he's memorizing every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. "Taste so good," he murmurs, the husky rasp of his voice tickling your flesh.

Law's hands make short work of your clothing, peeling at the fabric of your shirt and tugging it your shoulders leaving you bare chested before him. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his attention roving over your body with a hunger that makes your skin prickle with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hip. "Perfect."

He lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily. His teeth graze the sensitive surface, sending jolts of lightning through your veins.

You gasp at the sensation, arching into his touch. Your  hands find their way into his hair, knocking his hat off in the process of tangling your fingers in the dark, raven strands as you write and shiver under his touch.

"Law," you moan, your words breathy and filled with yearning. "Please..."

You're not sure what you're begging for, but you know you need more. You need him. All of him.

He obliges you with a final, harsher nibble to your hardened bud before pulling away to trail his lips down your torso. Long fingers slide from your hips to unzip and shuffle the remainder of the suit down over your legs to fall in a heap around your ankles.

Law’s breath hovers over your panties, inches away from where you’re dying for contact.

“Move these.” He commands. "Show me."

Your body thrums with want, his imposing tone weakening you into desire borne of flame. Your  hands tremble as you hook your fingers into the front waistband of your panties and slowly slides to the side. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver. 

Law’s eyes lock onto your exposed sex, his gaze burning into you. He doesn’t hesitate, diving in to taste you, his tongue flicking out to tease at your clit. You whimper at the sensation, your body arching up off the wall in response.

He buries his face between your thighs, licking and sucking, his fingers gripping your hips to hold you steady while his tongue works its magic. You can feel the intensity building within you, every single one of your senses feels like they're working overdrive.

Law's tongue swirls around your clit, alternating between flicking and sucking, as his fingers delve into your wet heat. He groans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

His fingers twist inside you, stroking along your inner walls and hitting that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

Law's skilled tongue and fingers work in perfect harmony, driving you further and further towards the edge. You can feel the pressure building, the need to release coiling tighter and tighter within you.

"Captain," you moan, your wails a broken plea. "Please... please, I need..."

Law doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh as you ride out your orgasm. He relishes in the taste of you, in the way your body shudders against him, and the sounds of your pleasure. You cry out, the orgasm ripping through you, your body shuddering and trembling as waves of pleasure crash through you.

As your trembling subsides, he stands, his eyes dark with lust and his lips glistening with your juices. "On your knees," he utters, his tone low and gravelly, resonating with an intensity that captivates.

You comply, quickly discarding your shoes and the remainder of your clothing onto the dusty ground below and sink to your knees. You sit patiently as you look up at him through your lashes and watch as he wastes no time in freeing himself from the confines of his jeans, his cock springing forth, hard and ready.

"Suck."

He doesn't give you any more instructions, simply guides your head forward, positioning his cock at your lips. You open your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, and begin to suck.

Musky and slightly salty—you relish in his taste, and as he begins to guide your motions your mouth is filled full again and again, the tip of his length rutting so far down your throat that your eyes begin to water. 

But you love it. Fuck, you love it.

Law groans, his head falling back as he savors the feeling of your mouth around him. He tangles his fingers in your hair, using it as leverage to control the pace, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Fuck, just like that," he growls, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock into your throat.

You can feel him growing harder, his cock throbbing against your tongue as he nears his release. His grip on your hair tightens, and he holds you in place as he begins to fuck your face in earnest, chasing his pleasure.

You gag with each powerful thrust as spit and drool drench along his cock.

Law's eyes roll back in his head, a low moan escaping his lips as he feels your throat constrict around him. He can feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with each thrust.

Law's grip on your hair tightens as he nears the edge, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he hisses, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Law's orgasm rips through him, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your mouth. You choke and gag around his cock, some of his cum escaping from your nose as he holds you in place.

He grunts, his grip on your hair loosening as the last of his seed spills into you. "Fuck, that's it," he pants, his cock still twitching as he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you to cough and gasp for air.

Law takes a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he looks down at you. "Stand up," he commands.

As you rise to your feet, he takes a step back, his eyes roaming over your naked form. "Turn around," he orders, "ass out." Law's hands grip your hips as he positions you, his fingers digging into your skin. "Spread your legs," he orders.

You comply, bracing yourself against the wall as you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He teases you, rubbing the tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices.

"Beg for it," he demands, his breath hot against your ear. "Beg me to fuck you."

"Please, Captain," you whimper, your body aching for him. "Please, please fuck me. I need your cock or I'm gonna go fucking crazy. "

Law's control snaps at your desperate plea. With a primal grunt, he thrusts into you, filling you in one swift motion. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming, and you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with a force that rocks your body against the wall. Your hands scrabble for purchase, nails digging into the stone as he fucks you with wild abandon.

Law's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rails into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the ruins, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of exertion.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. "Take it, take my cock."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sends you hurtling towards another climax, your body tensing as the pressure builds within you.

With a loud cry unto the heavens, you gush around his cock, clenching as if milking him for everything he's got to give.

And fuck he wants to give you his all. Wants to empty himself into you over and over again until the only word you know is his name.

Law's hips buck, driving into you as you orgasm, his fingers digging into your flesh as he rides out your climax. The sound of your name on your lips is enough to send him over the edge, his body tensing as he releases inside you, his seed filling you up.

He holds you there, still buried deep within you, his breathing heavy as he regains control. "Mine," he breathes, his tone thick with possession.

But he doesn't stop, he can't stop indulging in you. For so long has he wanted this— wanted you— and some of him thanks fate for this, admittedly large and unexpected push into coming around to his feelings. 

His pace only slows as he tilts your head backward to catch your lips in a kiss.

Law's lips move against yours, the kiss deep and possessive. He swallows your moans, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves, mapping out every inch of you. He breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Again," he orders, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Come for me again."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is too much, the edges of your vision begin to blur as you can feel another wave of delirium crash over you.

Law pulls orgasm after orgasm from your well loved, exhausted form. He thinks himself insatiable— that he will never have his fill of you. Over and over does the rhythm of his motions continue, his balls slapping against your clit in a tangle that rivals two animals in heat.

The relentless pursuit of your pleasure is unyielding. You cry out his name with each orgasm, your body quivering and shaking as he brings you to the edge time and time again.

His own lust grows with each climax you offer, the spores heightening the intensity of the experience. He's a beast, unyielding and unrelenting, his focus solely on claiming your body as his own.

Finally, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the ruins in a warm glow, Law's orgasms become fewer and farther between. Eventually, he collapses against your back in an exhausted huff.

Law's body slumps against yours, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He nuzzles into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he places soft kisses along your neck and shoulder.

"Fuck, that was incredible," he murmurs, voice hoarse from exertion. "Felt amazing."

He pulls out of you slowly, his cock slipping from your well-used body. You both wince at the sudden emptiness, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

Law turns you around, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. "You're amazing," he says, and you can tell he’s sincere.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It's a stark contrast to the frenzied passion you've experienced throughout the day, but no less intense.

When he pulls away, you're both breathless. "Let's get cleaned up and head back to the sub," he suggests, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. 

Law carefully assists you with your scattered clothing, his hands move with a gentle touch, helping you dress. His fingers linger on your skin, stealing soft caresses as he does.

Once you're both clothed and covered, he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. "Ready?" he asks, his eyes sparkling with a softness you don't recognize.

You give him a nod and he pulls you close, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you begin to walk together out of the rubble and back into the direction of civilization. 

"What about those ruins? Weren't we looking for something?" You ask curiously, craning your neck to peer up at him with a raised brow.

"We'll come back for the ruins," Law says, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "For now, I think the both of us need some rest." 

"But aren't you worried about questions from the others? We aren't exactly showing up looking innocent, you know."

He grins down at you, a warm sparkle in his eye. "Don't worry, I can teleport us straight into my cabin from outside the sub. That way, you won't have to face the crew in such disarray."

You know he's honest, and so you let yourself relax and lean into his shoulder. The closeness is nice, and with the heightened exhilaration finally ebbing away it feels nice. 

It feels real.

When Law decides you’re close enough to the coast, the world around you shifts in an instant, and suddenly you’re enveloped in the cozy warmth of his cabin aboard the Polar Tang.

You accept his invitation to use his shower, and your heart leaps in your chest when he slips in behind you to wrap his long arms around your waist. The hot water cascades over your bodies, washing away the sweat and dirt from your day of exploration.

Law takes his time, his hands roaming your body as he cleans you. It's a tender gesture, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion from earlier.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he cups your face. "I know today was... intense."

You nod, leaning into his touch. "I'm more than okay," you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips. "I'm happy."

Law smiles, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he gazes into your eyes. "Me too," he whispers, before leaning in to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

He takes his time, savoring the feel of your mouth against his, the water cascading over your entwined bodies. When he finally pulls away, you're both breathless, your hearts racing in sync.

That night, you curl up in his bed, snuggled against his chest. A calmness fills the room, wrapping you in a soothing aura. Your captain is sound asleep, no doubt exhausted from the day’s events, and while uncertainty lingers about what comes next now that the spores are out of your system, that’s a worry for another day; for now, you find solace in his embrace.

[hellodropbear]

chosen.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter

isabel is finally adopted

new chapter!!!

as always, hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think (good or bad lol) and anything else you want to see :)

~~~~~~

It was something Isabel had been nagging Mapi about for months. Maybe even longer. 

Isabel wasn't stupid anymore, she knew that Mapi had not planned to be her mother. There were other people, and half of her was made of who was supposed to be her father, the man that Mapi spoke so highly of despite getting choked up every time he was brought up in conversation. 

She knew they had died right before she was born and she knew that Mapi was left with a baby that she hadn't actually asked for. 

Isabel knew Mapi stopped playing football until she was older, taking a long chunk out of what would have likely been the peak of her career. 

She knew Ingrid came along later, which is why she had grown up calling her Ingrid. 

She didn't call her Mami, she didn't call her Mama. She called her Ingrid which just seemed so wrong. 

Because Ingrid was her mother, as much as Mapi. 

Mapi had given birth to her, she was a single mother for the first two years probably, until her relationship with Ingrid started getting more serious and both Isabel and Mapi became more and more reliant on the brunette Norwegian that they had fallen in love with so quickly. 

Isabel looked like Mapi, and she carried a few of her personality traits around with her. Outgoing, funny, chatty. 

But Ingrid also raised her, which meant she carried around the Norwegian's calmness, her kindness and her emotional nature. 

She was practically a carbon copy of Mapi on the outside, but anyone who knew her on the inside would say she was the perfect blend of both women. 

So how come she only called one of them Mami? 

Why was it that if she was seriously injured, only Mapi would be called up?

And Isabel wasn't stupid, she knew that Ingrid wished she had been there from the beginning, that her name was written on all of the important documents. She knew that Ingrid wished she was called Mama. 

Not Ingrid. 

When she was younger, Isabel would call Ingrid Mama when she was tired or sad, if she wanted a hug or if she was just feeling emotional. 

It would be in those tender moments and Ingrid's heart would melt every time. It was always in the apartment, hidden away from the rest of the world and just the three of them there together. 

But it never really stuck, and Isabel continued to call her by her first name everywhere else. Her teachers would ask about Mami and they'd ask about Ingrid, her friends would get confused because who is Ingrid?

They all just had a Mami and a Papi. 

Ingrid always thought that Mami and Mama would make more sense. 

So when Mapi knocked on her bedroom door, an official looking document held securely in her hand, Isabel had a very large suspicion that she knew exactly what was in that plastic slip. 

Mapi could tell she knew, the way her eyes lit up and she immediately placed her guitar to the side, sitting up as Mapi moved to sit beside her. 

"Is it them?"

Mapi smiled, tears in her eyes. 

"Yeah, it is."

"Mami!" Isabel practically jumped on her trying to hug her, tears springing from her eyes as well. "Thank you so much!"

Mapi just shrugged. 

"She's your Mama and has been for your whole life, this just makes it official."

"We have to plan something so special! Mami, I can't wait to tell her!"

Mapi laughed softly, planting a kiss on Isabel's head and hugging her in close. 

"We'll just have to make sure she says yes! She might not want to be officially related to a little rodent like you."

Isabel laughed, whacking her mother's side in mock offence and rolling her eyes. 

They both knew that it wasn't true, that Ingrid loved Isabel more than anything else. 

"She loves me more than you, Mami, you're just jealous."

Mapi laughed, silently agreeing. 

She would never admit that though. 

"You wish."

~~~~~~

Isabel spent every minute of the next two weeks planning what would be the perfect surprise for Ingrid, only requesting advice from Mapi a few times. 

It was a photo album that she was creating, filled with just pictures of them as Isabel got older, Mapi only featuring at times that Isabel deemed it absolutely necessary.

Birthdays, christmases, family barbecues, trips to Norway. Summer holidays on the beach. 

Skating competitions, Isabel stood there proudly with the gold medal hanging round her neck, a giddy smile on her face as Ingrid had picked her up despite her rapidly growing figure. 

She had scrolled through all of Mapi's old photos, printing out the good ones and sticking them in the page with stickers and little notes until it was completely full. 

She wrote a letter, enlisting Caro to help her perfect her Norwegian, making her swear to secrecy - the contents of the note were strictly confidential. 

She came up with a plan, something she knew Ingrid would love. A walk to their park was nothing worth being suspicious of, not even when the 10 year old pulled out Bagheera’s carrier. 

It was a family affair, she told Mapi. It would be mean to leave the cat out of it just because she didn’t usually go on their walks. 

It was a nice walk and a nice picnic, planned out to the T by Isabel, down to what colour lined the paper plates and how the fruits on the fruit platter would be cut. 

Everything she did was for Ingrid and if the Norwegian had asked her, she would have been able to explain every single decision in a way that related back to how much she loved Ingrid. 

Perhaps, for that reason, it was best that the papers were forgotten at home, because Ingrid would have been inconsolable if she saw the papers, the photo album and then was explained every single little decision made by her little girl. 

Isabel was disappointed, but Mapi reassured her that the Norwegian would not mind, that her reaction wouldn't change whether she was given those papers on the top of the eiffel tower or in a dump in the middle of the city. 

So the 10 year old waited until they got home and finished eating dinner, only heading up to her room to collect the file once Mapi and Ingrid were sat on the sofa, waiting for their child to return and choose something to watch. 

She couldn't help the nerves that filled up her stomach, the anxieties that began to attack her as soon as the file was in her shaking hand. She almost felt sick as she walked downstairs, spying the back of Ingrid's head, hearing their voices chatting and laughing. 

It took one last push of confidence to walk and stand in front of them, the file held tightly in her hands as she anxiously rocked back and forth on her heels. 

She took a deep breath, realising that everything she had planned to say was long forgotten, instead just brandishing the file towards Ingrid, who took it with an air of confusion as she glanced between Isabel and Mapi. 

"What's this, Is?"

Isabel cowered under her glance, suddenly full of insecurity and self doubt. Would Ingrid even want to be her mother?

She had spent so much time thinking about how much she wanted Ingrid to be her mother, that she sort of ignored the possibility that the Norwegian didn't want that. 

And that would completely break the 10 year old. 

"Just open it." Mapi smiled reassuringly at Isabel, noticing her nerves, before looking over at Ingrid who had completely frozen as soon as she read the first few words on the top of the first page. 

She immediately broke down in tears, her body racking with sobs as she realised what she had just been given.

~~~~~~

"Isabel Leon! We're going and we're going now!" Ingrid was beyond frustrated, the 8 year old not listening to a word she said. Mapi was out of town for the week so they had been left alone together and the child was experiencing a severe case of 'I miss my mum' and it was materialising as disobedience and ignorance of Ingrid. 

"No!" She slammed her door closed for effect, throwing herself on her bed and willing herself not to cry. 

"Isabel, this is important and I can't leave you here. We have to go, you can sulk in the car."

The Norwegian was stood right outside the door, her hands massaging her head in frustration at the girl. 

"No! I'm not coming."

Ingrid huffed, shoving open the bedroom door and picking the ever-growing child up from her bed. 

"Ingrid!" She screeched loudly, almost deafening the brunette. "NO! Put me down, Ingrid, NOW!"

Her words dissolved into sobs as Ingrid continued to carry her until they had exited the apartment, the door locked behind them, Isabel left with no way to get back in. 

"I want Mami, Ingrid, I miss Mami!"

She shook her head, using her hand to guide the child into the lift. 

"Well Mami's gone, so you're stuck with me for now. You're just going to have to make do."

The child lashed out at the words and the contact, flipping around and facing Ingrid as the elevator doors closed. 

"There's a reason you're not my Mami!"

Her vision was blurred by her tears so she couldn't see the hurt that flashed over the woman's face. She only realised later that night that what she said was wrong, that she had been horrible to someone she loved so much for no reason. 

And Ingrid would never admit the reason that she was in tears as Mapi called her that night, alone and wrapped up in bed. 

As she put down the phone, tears still dripping down her face. It wasn’t often that her insecurities returned, but when they did it was like wildfire, quickly spreading and destroying everything good in it’s path. 

Because Isabel was right, Ingrid wasn’t her Mami. She wasn’t her Mama either, she was just Ingrid. 

She was Isabel’s Mami’s girlfriend. 

But if she asked either of the Spaniard’s, they would assure her that she is so much more than that. 

It was with desperation that she tried to wipe her tears away as her bedroom door creaked open, Isabel creeping through the door and silently climbing up onto Mapi’s side of the bed, curling herself up in Ingrid’s side. 

The Norwegian didn’t realise she was crying until she heard the sniffle, her shoulders shuddering subtly.

“Is.” Ingrid’s voice was a whisper and Isabel turned around to face her, eyes puffy and her cheeks stained with tears. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Ingrid.”

She took a deep, shuddery breath and nestled her head into Ingrid’s chest. 

“Please don’t leave me and Mami.”

Ingrid frowned, wrapping her arms tighter around the girl. 

“Why would you think I was leaving you and your Mami?”

Isabel shrugged, her voice breaking as she replied. 

“I said that you’re not my Mami, but you are. I was naughty and you were angry and I don’t want you to leave me, Ingrid, because I love you.”

The Norwegian’s heart broke but she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and responding. 

“I will never leave you and your Mami. Never ever worry about that because I will always be here. And you were just upset today, you missed Mami and you were angry and sad and said stuff to me that you didn’t mean but it’s ok, Is, because you know it was naughty and you’ve apologised. But please, never ever worry about me leaving. I love you way too much to not see you every single day.”

~~~~~~

“Where is Ingrid, Mami?” 

She had woken up confused, her head sore and her arm in a cast. 

All she could remember was dragging Pina and Patri to the skatepark, showing off her new tricks. They were impressive, for a 9 year old and Mapi worried every day about her little girl flying around the skatepark with little to no concern about her own safety. 

When Pina and Patri had offered to babysit, she specifically told them that if they went to the skatepark, Isabel had to wear all the protective equipment that Mapi had purchased. 

Which she did, the two women making sure everything was on tight, equally as nervous as Mapi tended to be whenever she had to accompany Isabel to the skatepark. 

But whenever Pina or Patri turned their back, she would discreetly shed another protective item, embarrassed and humiliated in front of all the local skaters who wore nothing but their normal clothes and a helmet. 

They noticed, of course they did, but Isabel was too quick on her board for them to catch her and put them back on.

“Pequena!” Patri had yelled, her voice stressed and somewhat angry. “Come back here right now and put this all back on!”

It was rare Patri yelled at her, so the harsh words came as a shock to Isabel, who tried to pull off a spin at the top of the bowl so she could turn around. 

Except it was a trick she hadn’t quite mastered yet, and instead of landing it on two feet, she plummeted to the base of the bowl with a sickening crunch, immediately bursting into tears. 

Pina swore as Patri jumped down to her, scooping her up in her arms and giving her a quick once over. 

Her heart sank when she saw the wonky arm. Broken, easily. 

Pina grabbed the board and followed quickly, jumping into the drivers seat as Patri carefully slid into the back, nursing Isabel’s arm as the 9 year old sobbed in pain. 

“Please, Patri!” She had sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t tell Mami, she will be so mad at me.”

Patri sighed quietly, knowing that Mapi’s anger would be directed entirely at Pina and herself. 

She didn’t tell Isabel that, instead kissing her head and soothing her, whispering quiet Spanish in her ear until her cries weakened and she fell asleep. 

The doctors in the hospital had confirmed the broken arm, as well as a very minor concussion that required monitoring for 24 hours. 

But she woke up, her mother’s familiar tattooed hand resting on her leg, her eyes full of worry and stress as she stared down at her daughter. 

Ingrid, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Mapi had been so caught up in her daughter’s injuries that she hadn’t even considered where Ingrid was having not seen her since that very morning. 

“I’m so glad you’re ok, my lion cub.”

The discipline about her gear would come later. Even if Patri and Pina had disregarded it, she had told Isabel time and time again about it’s importance. Today, unfortunately, Mapi had been proven right. 

She had yelled that to the two younger Spaniards as they waited in the hallway, sending them home with their heads bowed and tears in their eyes. 

For some reason, they didn’t tell her that they had been extra careful all day, Isabel only getting hurt after they had told her to come back to replace all her knee pads. Mapi was so angry, which they had understood. 

They were just upset because she had told them they would never see the little girl again, mapi couldn’t trust two people so irresponsible.

It was dramatic, of course, but Pina and Patri had never seen Mapi so angry before. 

“Where’s Ingrid?”

Mapi sighed quietly, stroking Isabel’s hair back. 

“I’ll call Ingrid, she can come in.”

She did just that, easily dialling the Norwegian on her phone, only having to wait through two rings before she picked up. 

“Is has been asking for you, Ingrid, do you want to come over to the hospital?”

Mapi hadn’t really known where Ingrid was, but her concern about why her girlfriend wasn’t there was sort of pushed to the side as she worried about her daughter’s wellbeing. 

She didn’t expect Ingrid to sound so frustrated, so upset. 

“I’ve been here this whole time, Mapi! They won’t let me up because I’m not on her documents. You’re her mother, not me.”

The Spaniard’s heart dropped, immediately filling with guilt. 

“I’ll be right there.”

She was practically flying down the stairs, grabbing Ingrid by the arm and pulling her into the lift. 

“I’m sorry, Ingrid. I’m so sorry.”

It was hard for the Spaniard to keep her tears at bay, the emotions of her day catching up with her. But Ingrid broke down in her arms, silently crying. 

“She’s my kid too, Mapi. She’s my kid too.”

Isabel didn’t know why both Ingrid and Mapi were crying when they entered her room again, but she did finally feel at ease with them both on either side of her, swiftly falling asleep as their hands rested on her smaller form. 

~~~~~~

Her first day of school had gone well. Better than well, really, she had loved everything about it. 

Her teacher, her friends, the food, her new pencil case and backpack. 

Everything had been perfect. It was still perfect as she spied her mother standing by the gate, Baloo’s leash in her hand as the young golden retriever stood steady by her side. 

“Mamiii!” 

Her backpack was dropped on the floor as she raced towards Mapi, throwing herself into her open arms and sighing contentedly as she was picked up, her head fitting easily on Mapi’s shoulders. 

“Oh hello there!” 

Mapi smiled, walking over to the abandoned school bag and skillfully bending down to pick it up with one hand, her daughter and the dog’s leash being held securely in the other. 

“How was your day, Is?”

Her question caused the girl to burst into excited chatter, eating Mapi’s ear off with her words as she recounted every possible story from the moment she was dropped off the the moment she was reunited, her words so quick that she was all finished by the time they arrived back to the apartment. 

“I made a friend, Mami!” 

She skipped beside her mother as they walked towards the lift, a grin settled on her face. 

Mapi was impressed, but not remotely surprised. It seemed that her daughter had inherited her own chattiness and confidence, but she was also an inherently happy kid who practically radiated sunshine. 

Mapi never had to worry about the girl making friends. 

So she listened as Isabel told her all about her new friend Sofie, about how she wasn’t even from Spain. 

“She’s from the same place as Esmee, Mami!” 

Dutch, Mapi thought. She wondered what a Dutch family was doing in Barcelona.

She continued to talk about Sofie’s older brother, her mother and father. Her grandparents and her cousins. 

But a small frown settled upon her face, as she looked up at Mapi with an inquisitive gaze. 

“I told her that I have a Mami, but no Papi. She asked who else looks after me because her Mami needs her Papi’s help all the time, so I told her I have an Ingrid, but she didn’t really get it. Because Ingrid isn’t a Papi.”

Mapi sighed, unclipping Baloo from his leash and moving to unpack Isabel’s backpack.

“Come up here, Is.” She patted the kitchen bench in front of her and the girl raced over, pulling herself up onto the bench with a practised ease. 

“You don’t have a Papi, no. But you have a Mami, don’t you?” Isabel nodded her head eagerly, wriggling slightly in her spot. “And who else do you have?”

“I have an Ingrid!” 

Mapi nodded, but gave her a look that prompted her to continue. 

“And an Ale, a Frido, Esmee! Pina, Patri. Leila, even though she lives all the way in England.”

“Who else?”

“Abuela and Abuelo! And tio and tia!” 

Mapi nodded proudly, placing her hands on Isabel’s shoulders. 

“You don’t have a Papi, Is, but you do have so many people here that love you, Ingrid more than anyone. We can’t even remember life without Ingrid, can we?”

Isabel shook her head, frowning. 

“I miss her when she’s away.”

“So do I.”

It was true, the house always seemed so much more quiet whenever the Norwegian had to return to Norway, even though she made by far the least noise out of all of them. She was a popular presence and one that made life so much more enjoyable for the two of them. 

Of course on the other side, Ingrid missed them equally as much and she was absolutely devastated that her national team duties were pulling her away from Isabel as she started school, one of the biggest days yet in her short life. 

But she had missed yet another milestone, just as she was cementing her place as a mother in Isabel’s life. 

“But Is, she’s your Mami too. You know this, she’s Mama.”

Isabel nodded. 

“I don’t think Sofie knew that it was ok to have no Papi because she looked sad when I told her.”

“Well, tomorrow you can tell Sofie that you’re ok! You don’t need a Papi because you have a Mama instead. Tell Sofie that families always look different but that doesn’t mean we love each other any less.”

She grinned, her head bobbing up and down happily. 

“I love you Mami!” 

Mapi smiled, reciprocating her words without hesitation. 

“Do you want to call Ingrid and tell her the same thing?”

“Let’s call Mama!” 

Mapi smiled with pride, scooping Isabel up in her arms and walking them over to the sofa as she dialled Ingrid. 

And that is where they sat for the next couple of hours, on the phone to their Ingrid, cuddled up in each others arms. 

It was Mapi’s favourite place, only made better when the Norwegian was right there too, her soft skin providing that extra love and warmth that both Spaniards desired so deeply. 

Ingrid was family now. Irreplaceable and incomparable. 

But if you asked Mapi, she would say that Ingrid had been family from the moment she first held Isabel in her arms. 

~~~~~~

Isabel watched as Ingrid broke down, tears streaming down her face and landing with big splats on her legs. 

The Norwegian was always going to be emotional, that was expected. Both Spaniards knew how insecure she was about her place in Isabel’s life, her role in this family. The insecurities were thick, stubborn. They never went away, despite how much Isabel and Mapi tried to cut them out, to push them away. 

The truth was enough for them to withstand any pushing that the mother daughter duo attempted, the facts were all there. 

Mapi was Isabel’s mother, she was the one on the documents, the one who was called if anything happened. She was allowed in Isabel’s hospital room when she got sick and she was the one that Isabel called Mami. 

Ingrid knew she was important, she knew she was loved. 

But she had always been Ingrid, excluding those few treasured times where Isabel had tiredly reached out for Mama. She found everything out through Mapi, she wasn’t even on the email list for her school. 

But these documents changed everything. 

For Ingrid, they changed everything. 

For Isabel and Mapi they changed nothing at all. 

Ingrid’s tears were expected, they were justified. But all she needed to do was look up at Isabel for her to run into her arms, almost toppling her over from her seated position on the sofa with the shear force of her body ramming into Ingrid’s, her arms easily wrapping around her. 

The Norwegian reciprocated the hug, her tears saturating the shoulder of Isabel’s shirt. 

“Do you want to be my Mama?”

Ingrid’s sobs became more audible as she tried to respond, words failing her as she nodded. The tears continued, Baloo looking up in confusion as the Norwegian cried, as Mapi did nothing to console her, instead watching on with a wet smile, tears dripping down her face. 

She was grateful to Ingrid because without her, life would be completely different. Without Ingrid, she would likely be a single mother. She and Isabel would live alone, Bagheera there too but Baloo wouldn’t have been an option if there wasn’t another adult there. 

Ingrid was the first time Mapi ever felt true love, the first time she ever felt like she was loved completely and romantically. The Norwegian made her happy, she made Isabel happy too. 

She had changed their lives for the better. 

Mapi would never be able to thank her enough. 

She watched as Ingrid’s cries softened, as she leant back and grabbed Isabel’s shoulders, looking at her straight in the eyes. 

“I would love nothing more, Isabel.”

It wasn’t long before Isabel disappeared, racing up to her room to grab her gift. As she left, Mapi easily retook her spot beside the Norwegian, kissing away the tears that still fell from her eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do this, Maria. I can’t believe it.”

The brunette just shrugged. 

“This is what’s right. You’ve raised her with me, you’re her mother, Ingrid. I didn’t think it was necessary for such a long time but last year at the hospital… it’s important to me that you know it only took me so long because it won’t change anything for me. You have always been her mother, ever since you walked into my life.”

Ingrid nodded, ready to reply before she heard the feet thundering back down the stairs, telling Mapi that they would have this conversation later. 

Shyly, Isabel handed over a neatly folded piece of paper and the photo book, sitting down on the other side of Ingrid as they flipped through it. 

It was how they spent the rest of the night, snuggled up together on the sofa, lots of tears shed as they flipped through the book of photos. 

Isabel fell asleep once they were done, the TV turned on as all three of them were emotionally exhausted, eyes puffy and faces red. Ingrid could only smile, her hand tangling up in Isabel’s head of hair as she slept peacefully on her mother’s lap. 

“My daughter. She’s my daughter, Maria.”

~~~~~~

It was a week of happiness in the Engen-Leon household, the Norwegian radiating positivity as she adjusted to her new role in Isabel’s life. 

Nothing changed, really, except for Ingrid’s security.

It wasn’t even something you could see from the outside, but Mapi knew her well enough to understand how much happier she was, like she had finally been relieved from a weight that she’d been carrying around for so long. It was a relief for all of them. 

The letter that Isabel wrote, however, had been left unread on her bedside table. 

It was in Norwegian, that much she knew. Apparently, the 10 year old had called up Caro to ask for some help with the language, making sure it was perfect before she gave it to her mother. 

It was a bit more than a week later, her and Mapi laying in bed one evening, Isabel fast asleep in her room down the hall. The Spaniard was scrolling through her phone, her spare hand lazily carding through Ingrid’s thick locks. 

The Norwegian was holding that folded piece of paper, staring at it like it held the secrets to the world. 

“Just open it.”

Mapi chuckled as soon as she store what her Norwegian was looking at, the familiar lined paper forever etched into her brain after such a big deal had been made about it. 

“It’s in Norwegian!” Ingrid smiled, looking over at Mapi. “Caro said I should prepare my tissues, Maria!”

“You would have cried if she said ‘I hate you Ingrid I wish you weren’t my Mama’ if it was written in Norwegian.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes at Mapi chuckled at her own joke, her phone dropping into her lap. 

“It won’t say that though. It will probably be heart wrenching because our girl is smart and has a unique way with words.”

Ingrid flopped backwards onto her pillow, sighing dramatically. 

“I’m going to be sobbing, Mapi.”

The Spaniard could only shrug. 

“Probably.”

It took a few more sighs and a couple more minutes for her to open the letter, unfolding the piece of paper at a painfully slow speed, Mapi just rolling her eyes at Ingrid’s dramatics. 

But the brunette’s eyes glazed over as soon as she saw the first line, neat Norwegian printed onto the page. 

Dear Mama. 

And so the waterworks began. 

I haven’t called you Mama my whole life, but I don’t really know why. You’re my Mama, you always have been. When I talk to my friends, I’ll call you Ingrid, but I will always question why, I’ll question why I call you that. 

I know that Mami was the one who had me, that she didn’t mean to have me and was only left with me because the people who I was named after, Isabel and Luis, died. 

She always tells me not to say that she was left with me because it makes it sound like she didn’t want me, which isn’t true. 

But Mami never had the choice, even if she didn’t want me. She was left with me, a baby. I would have been a lot of work. But she loves me and I love her so it worked and I don’t have any memories of being sad. 

I don’t have any memories of that time at all, really. No memories of anything that happened before you came. 

You had the choice, Mama. You didn’t have to choose to be my Mama. You love Mami and she loves you of course, but she had a baby. You didn’t have to take me into your arms and immediately love me as much as you do. 

You could have chosen that you wanted nothing to do with me, you could have chosen to just be Mami’s girlfriend - a step mother who doesn’t really love her step-daughter. 

But you didn’t choose that. You chose to love me and I chose to love you. 

Somehow, it seems so much more special that way. 

You’ve been there for me my whole life. You took me to Norway with you, the first time I left the country without Mami. You would look after me when she was sad, take me to the park and distract me with toys and Baloo. You were the one who convinced Mami to let me on a skateboard and you were the one who realised that I didn’t like football, taking the pressure off me to succeed at the sport you both love. 

You have been to every school awards night, concert, play. You are always there and I always spot you because you always have such a big smile on your face, one that I like to think is reserved just for me and Mami. 

And I love you so much. You make me so happy and you always have. 

I can’t believe how lucky I am that you chose to love me like you do.

Lots of love,

Your daughter Is. 

The tears that had been pouring down her face were hitting her legs as she finished reading, Mapi’s arms pulling her close as she carefully folded the paper back up, putting it in the top drawer of her nightstand. 

“My daughter Is.” She whispered softly and if Mapi wasn’t right in her space, she wouldn’t have been able to hear. 

“Your daughter Is.” She confirmed, using her finger to gently wipe away her tears. “She loves you so much.”

Ingrid could only nod, words once again failing her. 

“We both love you so very much. We are both so grateful for you and everything you do to make our lives so much better.”

“I love you too, Maria.”

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed! please let me know what you thought and send in anything you want to see :)

have a good day!

[crystalflygeo]

Kinktober Day 6 - Blowjob ft Diluc (Genshin Impact)

I wasn't originally gonna post today bc it's kinda been a long day and I had ZERO motivation/ideas so just meh but THEEEEEN a friend went feral and inspired me lmaoooooooo @moraxsthrone thank youuu and come get your food, heh

“You little minx…” 

So maybe not the best place to do this, but as it often happens, Diluc’s stern resolve often crumbles the moment you open your mouth.

Especially when it’s to wrap tightly around his cock, your plush lips teasing and sucking him dry.

The both of you were in his office at Dawn winery, he had been reviewing some documents when you insisted he needed to relax, and apparently your idea for that was to drop to your knees with your hands gently pushing his thighs apart causing him to blush and sputter. 

Diluc’s hand cradles the back of your head, gloved fingers pulling slightly at your hair as you work his cock with soft breathy moans. The winery is quiet, the maids and other employees at work, and the evening light filters through the window along with the last cries of birds as they retreat to sleep.

“Hah… you’re… q-quite a handful you know.” He hisses, but his words have no bite to it. He groans and tosses his head back as your tongue slides along the underside of his thick dick. Your hand squeezes at the base where your mouth doesn’t reach, fingers slick and wet with drool as you pump him slowly. 

You giggle and pull back, playfully tracing a vein with your tongue. “You love me for it.” You lick your lips. “And, you need to stop working so much I told you, you need to relax~” You tease, kissing at his tip making it twitch and then open your mouth to sink back down as far as you can go.

“Archons, that feels so good…” He says breathlessly. You hum around his cock, the vibrations making him moan again and buck his hips.

You stare at him as you suck him down, eyes bright with amusement. Your other hand leaves its resting place at his thigh to cup his balls, you massage them a little, warm and heavy in your palm and groan on his dick again, this time not on purpose but rather anticipating his load going down your throat.

“Yesss… good girl, just like that” His gloved hand reaches to gently cup your jaw, looking down at you with hazy half-lidded eyes. He loves you more and more with every day, he thinks, smoothing his thumb along the apple of your cheek. His cock twitches again at the sight of your mouth stretched so obscenely over his girth. 

He feeds you more of his length, slowly slipping further into your throat by fisting at your hair and pushing, you eagerly accept, drooling and gagging.

“So, so good…” Diluc says quietly. “Taking me so well…”

You whine, tears springing to your eyes as his cockhead reaches the back of your mouth, your nose pressed against the coarse red hair at his navel. The weight of him in your mouth and the musky scent making your head spin. 

“Relax, breathe through your nose…” 

“Master Diluc?”

“Fuck!”

There is a knock at the office door and both of you jump at the suddenness. If you weren’t choking before, you sure are now as you pull back and try to muffle your coughs. The door is locked at least, even though none of the maids, nor Elzer would enter without explicit permission. 

“A-Adelinde” Diluc clears his throat. “Do you need something?” 

“I simply came to check on you, you have been cooped up there all afternoon. Dinner will be served soon, unless you’d prefer I bring you something if you’ll remain at work?” She asks diligently, voice muffled through the door though she seems not bothered by the fact at all. 

“It’s fine, I’ll be finished soon. You can serve dinner as usual I’ll come-” He jolts “downstairs in a moment.”

He glares down at you, and you smirk, his cock in your hand as you nuzzle at it and drag kisses along the length. 

Oh he’ll come alright.

You nip at the base of his cock, sucking a mark into the pale skin there, your soft hand massaging the tip. Diluc shivers and hisses at you to stop. You promptly ignore him.

“Alright. As you wish Master Diluc.”  Soft footsteps walk away and the winery’s owner sighs in relief. 

You giggle as you continue to jerk him, now licking at the pearly stuff that gathers at the tip. 

“You are a menace, did you know that?.”

“Master Diluc~” You tease with a sultry voice, blinking your eyelashes at him coyly.

He flushes red. “Stop that. And we better get going, that was too close and I don’t want her getting suspicious if we don’t appear at the dinner table in the next few moments.” Diluc replies, making a gesture to tuck himself and stand, but you plant your hands on his thighs and stare up at him resolutely. 

“Oh no you won’t, I’ll finish what I started. You aren’t thinking of going downstairs with a hard-on like this, are you Master Diluc?” You lick along the length teasingly, trying to keep him slick. “Besides, I'm pretty sure Adelinde has heard me scream your name before.” You mumble.

“She doesn’t need to know-”

“She knows.” You roll your eyes.

Diluc says nothing and only stares at you, partially embarrassed but mostly turned on. You smile sweetly at him and swallow back his cock into your warm wetness. He huffs.

“Well then, since you’re so bold and want so desperately to get your fill…” He grasps your hair again at the back of your head, just at the base of your neck, and slides in deep. You keen and Diluc fucks into your mouth, swift and short thrusts with a clear purpose, to shut you up and fill your mouth with his seed, exactly what you want, isn’t it?.

You grasp at him desperate and needy, whimpering and whining every time he pushes in, warmth pooling between your legs.

Diluc grunts, looking at you with red eyes ablaze with lust.

“Show me. Show me how good you are… take it- all!” He comes with a choked groan, a deep sound as his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw tenses, he tilts his head slightly back and you think about how hot this man is for a split second before all you can process is the warm stickiness down your throat.    

You swallow it all down, scrambling between his legs, pulling at his clothes and whining. 

The two of you pant as you slip back, a thread of saliva connecting your swallowing lips to his softening length. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out to show him the spend that’s collected in your tongue before gobbling it up too. 

Temptress. Diluc thinks. “What a sight. Good girl.” He tilts your chin with his fingers and you follow easily as he guides you to a chaste kiss. 

“Now. We better head downstairs before Adelinde comes knocking again.” He fixes his clothes, looking perfectly presentable. You stand up and dust your clothes, knees hurting slightly but it was totally worth it. He wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you close just a second, his breath hot on your ear. “And then, after dinner, maybe I’d enjoy some dessert.” 

You grin. 

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。this feeling inside of me— | gojo satoru

wc: 1.5k

summary: you make gojo realize that this twisty-pop!-y feeling in his stomach might just be jealousy. 

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are used, mild jealousy, mentions of some of the students, lots of stifled laughs and held back grins!, mostly fluff really, gojo just doesn’t understand what he’s feeling! 

a/n: split this into two parts: the first half (this one), lighter and more central to reader’s perspective, while the second half (the next part), darker, and more central to gojo’s perspective. best read after ‘so this is what it means to be in love’ because there are some references made! 

collection masterlist: conversations on love 03. so this is what it means to be in love + (extended scene) too good to be mine <-you are here -> 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace?

Gojo’s been… hovering lately.

He hangs around you a lot more than usual, following your footsteps around your apartment as if he didn’t just spend the night and stay in bed with you all morning. 

You’d think that’d stop at work, but nope. 

For someone who hates sitting still, Gojo’s spending an awful lot of time doing nothing while watching you rifle through folders and documents you’re meant to type away. He sits by the chair in front of his desk, feet propped up and fingers tapping on the wooden surface enough to push you just to the point of going a little crazy. 

Tap.

You could have sworn you’ve read this line already. 

Tap.

This paragraph feels entirely too familiar at this point. 

Tap—

“Satoru,” you sigh, smile half-annoyed-half-guilty as you switch your attention to the man in front of you, “do you have extra work to finish today?” 

You’re trying to ask kindly, after all, Gojo rarely chooses to sit by the paperwork he’s been assigned to do (even though he doesn’t really do any of it because it’s mostly left to you). 

He stops tapping, moving to rest his cheek on one hand as he flashes you a grin so lovesick you think it’s infectious—the corners of your lips are curling up too. 

“Just working on spending more time with you.” 

Of course he says something like this; the most powerful man in jujutsu society transformed into the ever-charming sweet-talker that being your lover brings. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you chuckle—the look on your face a reflection of his. As annoyed as you are that he’s distracting you, you’re endeared. 

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know.” 

Today is his day-off after all. 

He hums, eyes set on you with cerulean sincerity, “It’s boring without you, though.” 

Strands of white fall to kiss his eyelashes and you reach forward to brush them off—his hair is getting longer now, you note. No doubt he’s going to ask you to accompany him for a haircut soon. 

His nose scrunches under the space your fingers hover over and you draw them back, “Clingy.”

—which he’s always been, but even moreso lately. You don’t know where all of it is coming from, how it’s even possible for him to be clingier than normal, but the past weeks have definitely shown you that he is more than capable. 

Gojo loves grocery runs, but only when he’s able to wander around the breakfast and candy section while you go through the long list of essentials and ingredients that need stocking up on. 

Not last week though. 

Instead of beelining straight towards his usual spot, he stayed right where you were, pushing the cart whenever you needed him to and reaching up on the top shelf for things you’d normally have to ask some other kind sir to get to. He stays close to you, body draping over yours as you line up for the checkout queue—long limbs, long torso, long everything engulfing you.

It’s endearing, and cute, and oh so Satoru, but the days after that find him following you everywhere—picking you up after pottery with Megumi (as if you can’t make it back home alone), insisting on doing a taste test on cooking lessons with Inumaki, and even joining you on that afternoon yoga class you reserved for (initially) just you and Yuuji. 

You wonder what’s causing this, why he’s acting this way lately.

“Well, I have to be or else Yuuji might really steal you away from me.” he jokes, elbows propped on the table as he rests his chin on clasped hands. 

You know that he isn’t actually threatened by Yuuji—just that he wants more attention from you, some that you give to the pink-haired boy too eagerly and so easily. 

Still, it’s weird whatever he’s feeling right now, a bundle of unrest bubbling in his stomach these days. He isn’t familiar with it, doesn’t really know what to call it, just that he knows when it hits—like knots waiting to pop at any minute.  

You stand up from your seat to make your way to him, glancing at the clock across the room; you suppose there’s no point trying to squeeze in any more work for the last 20 minutes before you’re set to clock out. 

Gojo pats his thigh, as if beckoning you to sit; he manspreads like crazy but you think it makes sense for moments when he wants to hold you like this. 

Once you position yourself on his lap, he snakes an arm around your waist as you sling yours around the back of his neck, landing a soft peck at the tip of his nose. The hand resting on your hip rubs gently. 

“Is that comment still bothering you?” you ask, scratching the short buzzed hair of his undercut. 

You catch his eyes then, sky blue with a troubled sea.

Now that he thinks about it, it probably did start with the videos. 

Gojo Satoru is a man of many accolades: the strongest, a lone child prodigy, the best teacher (self-proclaimed); at some point he was also the world’s saving grace, and you’d think after that he’d decide to lay low for a bit, have a change of pace—but no.

The man you love has also, apparently, become a social media heartthrob after garnering attention for vlogging your dates. For the memories, he had said, but of course, it’s never just that when he’s as pretty–if not prettier–than the models you see on magazines and billboard posters. The video goes viral and suddenly you’re made very aware of just how coveted he is across all generations. 

He feels the first pop! in his stomach when he finds the comment under a 10-minute video of your day out in the park. He blacked out, he’s sure, but some loser said something about how you were so hot and completely out of his league.

As if he doesn’t know that already, but it’s how confident user ManInATux69 typed that you should just leave Gojo and be with him instead. That one stung a bit; maybe even got to his head, and it’s ridiculous because it really is just some faceless person on the internet. 

But maybe that’s really how this feeling started. 

“Of course not,” he pouts, eyes avoiding yours as he looks to the side, brows furrowed.

You stifle a giggle as you wait, biting the insides of your cheek as you stare at him. A mental countdown until—

“Maybe a bit.” he mumbles after a few blinks, pout deepening as he turns to you. He always comes around to tell you the truth, without fail. 

It’s endearing, and cute, and oh so Satoru. Your Satoru.

“You wanna tell me how you’re feeling exactly?” 

If there’s one word Gojo will use to describe you, it will always be lovely. You have always been so gentle, so kind, never pushing, always asking lightly. 

You’ve sat through all his non-answers, so he thinks it’s just right, fair, that he gladly offers up his heart to you, now nestled into the palm of your hands as he lays all these feelings down, bare, intended just for you. 

He takes your free hand and places it right at his center, the space between his chest and abdomen. It’s warm as his hand dwarfs yours, forming it into a fist and twisting it into his skin. 

“Feels like a knot first,” he begins, before jerking your hand slightly as if to emulate a pop!, “then it pops.” 

And you think, that for all he sees and knows, it’s ironic that he can describe a feeling so vividly yet not know what it’s called—what it could possibly mean or be. 

“Do you think you’re jealous, Satoru?” you ask, smiling, fighting back a giggle (again), tone teasing. 

Hm, he thinks, is that what this is? 

Jealousy? 

He stares at you, lips parted slightly as you watch it register to him slowly. 

“Would explain why you’ve been hovering,” you chuckle, stroking small circles with your thumb. 

“I have not been hovering.” he snaps out of it, almost offended. 

You give him a look, eyebrow raised and mouth set in a smirk as if to say: really?

He relents, taking your hand to interlace your fingers with his, “Maybe a little.” 

Kisses are dotted along your knuckles, his eyes closed as if to ground him. You’ve known Gojo for so long that you can tell when he’s still figuring out how to say whatever it is he wants to—and your heart warms at the fact that this side to him is one he only entrusts to you. 

“There’s no competition, you know,” you whisper, the sky opening back to you, “I love you.” 

Your words are weighted, meant for him to hold and keep in the parts of him that doubt what he means to you. And it might sound a bit silly, to be this affected over a comment from some nobody, but you don’t want to leave any room for uncertainty—for your inaction to once again feed into his insecurity. 

He hums, soft vibrations flowing through his lips still pressed against your hand. Red is starting to bloom across his cheeks to his nose, and he mumbles, “Just want to be sure I’m good to you.”

a/n: the first and second part wouldn’t have fit in tone if i put them in one fic, so i split them! the second part will be a bit darker, more serious, but will discuss more of where the feelings stem from in the first place! 

thank you notes: to niku @stellamancer for listening to me and being there when i seriously needed it writing this!! & to dilly and somi my bbgirls!! @crysugu @soumies for always cheering me on, especially during the slump!! 

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[thecharacterchronicler]

Perform || Coriolanus Snow x Reader || Smut

Outline: You get married to Coriolanus Snow, a powerful man that you don’t even know, and try to adjust to your new life as his wife.

Word count: 3’500

Warnings: Arranged marriage, explicit smut and probably a few mistakes here and there because English isn’t my first language.

Author’s note: This may or may not be a prequel to There Will Come A Ruler. I’m not sure it fits all the details as it wasn’t planned but inspiration suddenly struck me so here it is.

The room went dead silent as soon as you passed the threshold, numerous pairs of eyes turning to stare at you. There wasn’t a single familiar face among the men standing around the large desk, previously hunched over a pile of papers. You knew that they would never be able to tell how intimidated you felt under their severe gazes, you knew how to fake confidence better than anyone… However, two pale blue eyes seemed to be staring right into your soul, as if he knew.

“Great timing, we just finalized the contract.” One of the older man in a suit said, seemingly wanting to break the cold silence that weighted heavily on your shoulders. You nodded without a word, approaching the desk, coming to a stop next to the youngest man, the one with the unsettling eyes.

You turned your head to look at him more closely and his eyes darted away instantly, landing on a distant object at the opposite side of the office. He stood straight, his head held high and his arms crossed behind his back, impassible.

When you entered the room, he seemed to be radiating with light in the darkness of the office, surrounded by men in boring black suits while his was made out of an immaculate white fabric. Combined with the paleness of his skin and his carefully combed back blond curls, he resembled the image of an angel you had seen on a very ancient painting once. But his indifference towards you, and the icy stare he gave you, made it clear that you wouldn’t find solace in him.

“I reviewed the contract at your family’s request and made sure everything is in your best interest.” The man who had spoken to you already said again, handing you the very last page of the pile of documents on the table and an elegant pen to sign it with.

You didn’t doubt that the lawyer your family had hired was competent and probably too scared by them to dare make a mistake while establishing a contract in your name with an army of other lawyers in the room but you still felt compelled to take a look at the full file in front of you, ignoring the pen he was still holding for you to take.

Maybe it was a desperate attempt to gain time on your part more than a necessity to double check the terms and conditions of the agreement you were meant to sign but, as you glanced towards the man in white, you were pretty sure you saw the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, although he was still determined to not look at you directly.

Some clauses written on the paper seemed reasonable, others were more restrictive and some downright affected your freedom and free will but you knew you wouldn’t be able to negotiate anything better. You wouldn’t dare try anyway, everyone had been telling you what a privilege it was for you and what an honor it was for your family to be offered such an opportunity. Even in the high society of the Capitol, it didn’t happen often for a girl who had just graduated from the Academy to secure such an interesting match. It was even more rare that such a match didn’t require to be seduced in order to arrange a marriage...

“Everything seems in order.” You finally said, after taking your time to read each paragraph of the contract, ignoring the lawyers’ growing frustration and impatience around you.

“I can attest that it is.” The one lawyer meant to be on your side confirmed and, even if you felt the urge to tell him that he could have done better - or at least come to an agreement that wouldn’t force you to produce heirs in a few years - you quietly nodded, taking the pen he was offering you and writing your name at the bottom of the last page.

You paused for a moment, admiring your handwriting in black ink, a small gesture that sealed your future.

It was a privilege. An honor. One that you couldn’t refuse.

You took a step back and turned to the man in white, handing him the pen. He took it without looking at you, hunching his tall frame over the desk to sign his name next to yours in elegant calligraphied letters.

Coriolanus Snow.

You managed to take a deep but silent breath, the implications of the contract you had both signed downing on you. Your life was about to change forever, you’d have to leave your home, your family, everything and start a whole new life, with a man you didn’t even know. He was a complete stranger to you, all you knew about him was that he was the youngest head game maker for the Hunger Games in history, the protégé of Doctor Gaul herself and that, as if it wasn’t enough already, he had announced that he’d be campaigning to become the next president of Panem.

“Well, I hope you’ll be satisfied with the agreement, Mrs Snow.” Your lawyer said, but you didn’t realize right away that you were the one he was addressing, your new last name sounding foreign.

You forced a smile at him, watching as all the men slowly walked out of the office, leaving you on your own with your new husband. A shiver ran down your spine as the door closed behind them, a cold breeze caressing your skin. Coriolanus finally turned to face you, his icy eyes staring into your soul once again.

“I’ll meet you at the altar in three days.” He declared, emotionless. You quietly nodded, too intimidated to say a word. You knew that - much like the official documents you had signed already making you his wife - your wedding ceremony would be nothing like you envisioned it to be.

Time flew by after that. You had spent it feeling mostly overwhelmed by the amount of things you were expected to do before the ceremony. You had to pack your belongings, decide what you’d take with you to your husband’s manor and what could be left behind, attend various appointments meant to get you to beauty base zero before your very public wedding and - even if you didn’t have a say in the preparations - you still had to make sure everything would look flawless on the big day, including yourself.

Your family’s chauffeur drove you to the venue early in the morning where a team of people were ready to take care of your hair, nails and makeup and would help you get into the gorgeous white dress that was selected for you by your new husband and his own team. You watched as your reflection kept changing in the mirror in front of you, making you look like a glamorous bride… The only thing missing to such a perfect portrait was a genuine glint of happiness in your eyes.

Once you were ready to face the crowd of onlookers, news reporters and photographers posted outside the venue - hoping to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds on their way out after the ceremony - the people who had prepared you left, leaving you on your own in the luxurious suit, barely recognizing the person facing you in the mirror.

The short hour before the ceremony felt like agony, your hands shaking in fear of not being good enough to live up to everyone’s expectations and your chest constricted with anxiety. You couldn’t help but wonder what people would think of you when they’ll see you in your bridal attire. Would they think you were a good match for a man as important as Coriolanus Snow ? See you as worthy to potentially become the First Lady of Panem ? Would they think you were a cute couple, or see you as an ill match ? And what about him ? Would he find you beautiful when you’ll walk down the aisle to him ?

A firm knock on the door saved you from drowning in your anxious thoughts. You were expecting your family’s lawyer to come by and give you a few advices on how to live your new life without inadvertently breaking some of the terms of the contract you had signed. You also knew the wedding organizer would show up to give you a few pointers for the ceremony and your public appearance after it…

But, when you opened the door, a surprised gasp escaped your lips. Coriolanus was devastingly handsome in a tailored white suit, more fitting and luxurious than the one he wore when you had met him three days earlier. There wasn’t a single strand of his blond hair out of place, not a trace of dark circles under his blue eyes while your team had spent almost an entire hour trying to conceal yours after the sleepless nights you had had.

He smiled at you in a way you weren’t certain was genuine and held up a huge bouquet of white roses, tied together by a blood red satin ribbon. You understood it was yours to walk down the aisle with, the flowers matching the one pinned to the lapel of his jacket.

“Thank you.” You said, as you took the flowers. He was looking at you without any hint of admiration in his gaze, as if the hours your team had spent on your hair and makeup and the expensive wedding gown you were wearing didn’t affect him at all. As if he still couldn’t care less about you… “I’ve heard it’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony.”

He huffed a mocking laughter at your words.

“Good thing we’re already legally married then.” He countered, the reminder adding to the panic in the pit of your stomach. “This ceremony is just meant to give them a good show.”

You knew that, of course. It was your duty - as his wife - to publicly appear by his side and pretend that you were overjoyed about it all. You were meant to help him build a flawless reputation so that he may eventually become president one day and you knew that his popularity was determined by how much the people could relate to him, or at least feel included in parts of his life. Soon, you’d be introduced to them as Mrs Snow and you couldn’t afford to mess up.

You turned around to place the beautiful - but surprisingly heavy - bouquet of roses on the vanity, hearing the door closing behind your back. When you looked over your shoulder, he was standing behind you, clearly expecting something from you although you weren’t sure what.

It was the first time you were fully alone with him, in such proximity to each other, and his intimidating posture added to the way his eyes darkened when they met yours made you feel quite weary, as if you were suddenly in some kind of imminent danger.

“Now turn around so I can make sure you’re ready.” He demanded, his voice slightly lower than usual.

You obeyed without a word, slowly spinning around twice as you felt the weight of his analyzing stare on you, making your body tingle with an odd electric sensation. Once you were face to face with him again, you couldn’t tell if he was satisfied or not by the way you looked, his expression serious and unreadable. A heavy silence lingered between you as you desperately hoped to hear a few words of affirmation to boost your confidence a bit… He didn’t say any but he took a step closer, his face closer to yours than what would be deemed acceptable between two strangers. He pushed a strand of hair away from your forehead, his eyes briefly plunging into yours before his hand traveled down to your mouth. He traced your lips with his thumb, fading out your lipstick slightly.

“I hope you paid attention to the wedding night clause on our contract.” He spoke, almost in a whisper. “Because as soon as we’ll be done performing for the crowd, I’m going to make you mine.”

Your body shuddered in response, and you weren’t quite sure if it was because it made you nervous or if because such a promise actually excited you somehow. You didn’t have time to think about it anyway, another knock on the door forcing you apart. The wedding organizer announced that the ceremony was about to start, forcing Coriolanus out of your suite, visibly oblivious to the tension that tainted the atmosphere between you. You took a deep breath to compose yourself, grabbed your bouquet and folllwed them out, ready to perform.

You spent the whole ceremony in a daze, not quite realizing what was happening or what anyone was saying. But you still managed to say the one thing everyone expected of you; I do. You smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers, made sure to keep your eyes open despite the blinding flashing lights of the cameras on you and took the time to greet everyone of importance that was in attendance that day. When your new husband had to kiss you in front of hundred of curious faces staring at both of you, he did it softly and chastely which almost felt a bit disappointing considering the authority and confidence he had spoken with earlier. But it sure was a cute picture for the tabloids.

You returned to the mansion he owned in the most expensive and luxurious area of the Capitol and were showed to your new bedroom by a maid, noting how your belongings had already been unpacked and organized to make you feel at home. It was only after she helped you out of your wedding gown and into a more practical and relaxed dress that you realized that this bedroom was yours and yours only. There wasn’t a single item that looked like it could belong to your new husband, none of his clothes in the dressing room, none of the products he put on his hair to keep them perfectly combed back throughout the day in the bathroom. And, even though this man was still a complete stranger to you, you still felt a hint of disappointment at the realization that he wasn’t planning on spending any of his time with you if none of his potential supporters could witness it.

He still had been thoughtful enough to ask another one of his employees to deliver a black box to your bedroom, an unexpected wedding present. You opened it as soon as you were all alone and your eyes widened in shock, discovering some lingerie made out of the thinnest and softest lace you ever touched. It was a gorgeous set that complimented your skin tone so well, it almost looked like it had been made specifically for you.

You tried the pieces on, surprised to see how each of them fitted you perfectly and comfortably. However, even if you felt pretty good in your new lingerie, you felt too awkward to go find your husband with nothing else on, so you pulled your dress back over the lace, hiding everything from view, before you walked out of your bedroom, determined to find Coriolanus in the huge mansion you now shared with him.

You easily found him downstairs, sitting on a teal sofa in front of a modern chimney. He was reading with his ankle resting on top of his knee. He looked up to you as soon as you stepped into the living room, immediately folding his newspaper to give you his full attention.

“Is your new bedroom at your convenience ?” He asked, politely.

“Absolutely.” You replied, nervously fidgeting with your hands as you stood in front of him. “And thank you for the wedding present.”

“Does it fit you ?”

“Yes, perfectly.”

“Take off your clothes then.” He demanded, and you wondered how he managed to sound so intimidating despite sitting down and you, towering over him.

“Here ? Now ?” You exclaimed, looking around for house employees.

“I think I’ve waited long enough.” He declared, unwavering. “So take them off or I will.”

You did as he requested, nervously removing your casual dress so that you stood in nothing but your new lingerie in front of him. His icy gaze roamed your body from head to toe, his expression still too closed off to tell if he liked what he saw or not.

He stood up, bringing his hand to your chest and tracing the outline of the lace over your breast with a finger. Goosebumps rose on your skin in reaction, your heart beating faster so close to where he was touching you.

“Turn.” He commanded and you obeyed, feeling slightly more confident in this perfectly fitting set than you did in your wedding dress. You felt his hands on your body again, tugging the lower part of the ensemble down your thighs agonizingly slowly. Did it mean he didn’t like it ? Or was he simply curious to see what was underneath the thin lace fabric ? “Lie down.”

He gestured to the couch he was sitting on a minute ago. You followed his command, your head resting on a soft satin pillow and your knees pulled back to you to leave him enough room to join you. He sat down, fully removing the piece of underwear around your thighs and you shivered when he pushed your knees apart, once again analyzing your body with a critical gaze.

He leaned forward and you gasped when you felt the warmth and wetness of his tongue between your folds, tracing a few circles around your clit before moving down to your entrance. He sat back straight, an amused grin on his face as he licked his glistening lips and took in the shocked expression on your face.

“I needed to know how my wife tastes.” He explained, your body tingling with excitement. He opened up his trousers, pulling his long and hard erection out. Your eyes widened, taking in his size, which seemed to amuse him yet again. “You can take it.”

He sounded pretty confident about that but you weren’t so sure. You didn’t get the chance to protest though, because he immediately moved to align himself up with your entrance and pushed his tip through it without hesitation.

You gasped at the burning sensation, your fingers tightening around the edges of the couch. A satisfied groan rumbled in his throat as he kept pushing himself in, inch by inch until he was fully buried inside you and you couldn’t remember how to breathe correctly.

It wasn’t as pleasant to you as it seemed to be to him at first, your walls still stretching to accommodate his girth and length while he took advantage of the tighteness ensnaring him to push himself as deeply as he could.

It was too much. Way too much. But, just as you considered asking him to pause, suddenly your body stopped resisting him, welcoming him instead, allowing his cock to slide back and forth in rythym with the way he rolled his hips against you, causing a warm and tingly sensation to bubble up deep in your core.

You looked at him, holding himself above you with his strong arms on each side of the couch, his muscles carved under his pale skin. A blond lock of hair bouncing against his forehead in synch with his movements and his eyes were glued to yours, attentive to how your traits changed each time he modified the pace of his thrusts.

Soon, it felt like too much again, but in a good way. You felt close to imploding from how good it felt to have him hitting inside you at a relentless rythym.

You turned your head to the side, hoping the pillow would help silence your moans, worried that every employee in the mansion might hear the uncontrollable sounds of pleasure that kept resonating inside the living room.

“Look at me.” He immediately ordered, not waiting for you to obey as his hand flew to your face, turning your head so that you’d face him again. His fingers then dropped lower, wrapping around your neck, causing the whimpers escaping from your mouth to sound a lot more desperate. “I want to see what you’ll look like when you’ll come as I’ll fill you up.”

A few more thrusts of his hips, his tip hitting the perfect spot inside of you and you felt your whole body contracting intensely, your core tightening around him as you cried out in pleasure, closing your eyes and your mouth dropping open in shock at the intensity of the wave of sheer bliss that ran through your whole body.

“So beautiful.” He commented, his eyes fixed on you in genuine admiration this time. His labored breaths got louder and he climaxed, his erection throbbing as it spurt out a load of hot cum deep inside you.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

[vacayisland]

@!; Meet the Wifie JD / Female! Reader

"Summary"! You had always heard about JD's brothers, but you had never met them before as you had gotten with JD after the band had broken up. Yet, while on a mission to save Floyd, you were slowly introduced to his brothers, each in their own silly yet loving ways. "Tags"! Fluff? Idk somehow a fight almost breaks with between the Reader and poor Clay. Also tumblr is being weird so praying this posts this way.

@storydays @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @gtdkibf6jshhshjd

@!; Branch and Poppy would be the first to know the truth about JD; A truth he might have forgotten to tell his brothers back in the band days, and something he even forgot to tell Branch and Poppy before they rode in Rhonda for the first time. It wasn't like he was trying to keep secrets, far from it; JD was more than proud of this little secret he has managed to cheek, yet in the flurry of re-meeting Branch and meeting Poppy and getting them both down to help save Floyd, he might have forgotten this tiny detail. "Branch! You never told me you guys has a sister!" Poppy exclaimed as she bounced into Rhonda, beaming from ear to ear as she noticed another Troll inside; they were looking over a few scattered papers, receipts, post cards, anything that she's been able to dig up. Yet her attention was caught away from her search and study when three Trolls entered the little RV, even more so calling her JD's brother. She tried to explain to Poppy that she wasn't JD's sister, that she was in fact his girlfriend, yet JD stopped her before she could; raising a hand in her direction as soon as he saw her open her mouth. He playfully wiggled a finger at Poppy, "That's the wifie!" "You're married?!" Poppy exclaimed with excitement, while Branch seemed taken aback instantly; his attention filtered from you to JD, a silent question engulfing his eyes as he tried to fathom a world where someone would have interest in his older brother. "Well, uh, not technically?" JD rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled with nerves; While you chuckled, a bit more sweetly, along side of him. Poppy tilted her head in confusion, her arms dropping to the side as she tried to think of how JD called you his 'wife' but you guys weren't married. Branch stood next to Poppy, still trying to fathom this whole situation. Wondering how you, someone who seemed so... not JD, ended up with someone like his older brother. As in given example, you were careful to stand up and walk around all the evidence you had dug up from boxes of old things that JD had kept since his band days. While JD, while turning around to reach for your waist, almost stepped and step a whole stack of papers flying to the floor! You had stopped him before he did so, thankfully, playfully smacking his leg away from the stack so he would yelp but realize his mistake and draw his leg back. "Hi, it's so very nice to meet you two." You would extend your hand towards Branch and Poppy; In which, Poppy grabbed your hand first and shook it enthusiastically. "Hello! It's so very nice to meet you!" Exclaimed Poppy as she almost made your arm fall off with how vigorously she was shaking it, "I'm Branch's, JD's younger brother, girlfriend. And can I say, you have very lovely hair." You smiled at Poppy, though were glad to be able to pull your hand away when she finished the hand shake. With your other hand, you grabbed onto the closest hand JD had to you, interlocking your fingers.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you both. I expect you both know what's happening?" You received a nod from Poppy, while Branch just kept his eyes square on JD; who tried to play it cool, but you noticed the tiniest sweat drop rolling down his forehead. "Well then, Poppy, would you like to help me search for clues? I'm trying to find where Spruce is-" You didn't even have to finish before Poppy bounded over, grabbing your hand and rushed over to the pile of documents and files you had pulled out. It genuinely shocked you how much energy she had. But you were not going to let that scare you! What you and Poppy didn't notice, as you were sorting and shuffling around clues, was the 'I'm watching you' fingers that Branch gave to JD. In which JD just extended his arms, wondering what Branch was going on about. Branch, in response, glanced over at you and then back to JD with a cock of his eyebrow. Confused, JD turned towards you and Poppy and then back at Branch wondering what he was getting on about. But Branch wasn't going to say his thoughts out loud, not yet.

@!; Bruce would be the second one to meet you, and much like Branch he was confused on how this even happened. Unlike Branch, he was happy that JD finally had someone who could tolerate him and his bossy ways; That's not to say that Branch was unhappy for you or JD, he was just a little jealous and sour that after all this time JD had changed yet he couldn't have been there for Branch when he needed it. Those feelings shifted from time to time the more Branch saw you and JD interact, and he couldn't help but slowly feel guilty; Yet, still standing the fact that it wasn't all that fair. Either way, Bruce met you when Poppy, Bruce, and Branch came back to Rhonda after a successful mission and a dance number about Brozone being back. You were sat in the driver's seat, mindlessly shuffling a deck of cards; You had been asked if you would like to join the three, mostly by Poppy and JD, but you had declined as you weren't much of a people person. It's what drew you to JD at first, when you heard he was going solo around the globe in a 'soul-searching' journey. You asked more about it and slowly the two of you had grown closer than you ever thought would be possible. As such, you always tended to miss him dearly when he stepped off Rhonda. And, subsequently, is why you bounded onto your feet when you heard the door open. You didn't even mind that the deck of cards had spilt all over the floor as you heard your boyfriends all too familiar voice shout, "Honey, we're home!" Which was followed by a confused new voice, "Honey?" "You'll get used to it." And Branch's snarky comeback. They had managed to grab Spruce, no doubt, thanks to the post card. Yet, before JD could introduce you both, he had to take care of the loving and attentive girlfriend that had appeared right in front of him; Grabbing both his hands and welcoming him back with a big smile, while also accidentally stopping those from behind JD; Who had to awkwardly shuffle around the two of you. "What did you do?" JD quipped, smirking down at you with a curious look. He hadn't notice the stack of playing cards that had been left on the ground yet, which Poppy had began to pick up out of habit. "Nothing! I just missed you." Branch, standing next to Bruce, could swear he could see the definition of heart eyes in your eyes. He wasn't sure if he was actually happy for his brother, or a little grossed out, or jealous, or all the above with some plausible explanation for his emotions that he didn't feel like going into. JD, having forgotten that you two had company over, was quick to scoop you up into his arms, as he usually did when you greeted him back home. His arms rested under your thighs, supporting you as you sat on his forearms, and as you wrapped your arms around his neck while your legs wrapped around his waist. There was something always so peaceful yet exciting being this close to JD; Being able to clearly see his eyes, as you cupped his cheeks and leaned down to connect your foreheads. You were able to smell his cologne, which you swore you could get drunk off of. You could just feel his warmth and be able to take a moment to stop and breath and remember that he's here and he isn't going anywhere. You could just, be; Be here with JD and not have to worry about anything. And the way that JD tightened his hold, the way he looked back up at you with adoration... you knew he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if you almost kicked him out of his own bus one time because he was being a pain in your ass. A cough from Branch, and awing from Poppy, snapped you both out of your love-drunk dazes. Causing you to sit up properly and glance over at the company, all the while you kept JD's cheeks cupped with your hands and he couldn't really tilt his head to see everyone. "You both are!... adorable!" Poppy shouted, bouncing on her toes as she held onto Branch's arm. You couldn't help but laugh as her reaction, noticing that she was refraining from shaking Branch with all her might.

"Yeah, very cute." Sarcasm leaked out of Branch, "But have you both realized we've been standing here for a minute? We need to go out and look for Clay so we can save Floyd!- Yet, Bruce only patted Branch on the shoulder, "Calm down, Bitty B! I wanna meet JD's partner." Along with giving you both a smile as you slide out of JD's arms and onto the floor. At least, you were attempting to do so, but JD only tightened his hold. "Bruce, meet the wifie; Wifie, meet Bruce one of my younger brothers. Good, there you guys meet. Now if you excuse us," And, though Bruce seemed to have wanted to met more, he simply walked away with you still in his arms. Which caused you to flush but laugh, playfully smacking his shoulder and asking what has gotten into him! But, then again, this was your boyfriend and he was usually this selfish with you.

@!; Clay met you in Putt-Putt Village, where you had been convinced by JD to come out with everyone else. He had claimed that it was simply too dark and spooky to let you stay home alone and he couldn't make sure you were properly safe in Rhonda. You tried arguing saying that he's left you in worse conditions, which seemed to get a rile out of Bruce who questioned him what you had meant. It was funny to watch JD sputtering out reasons and excuses and examples, but in the end you decided to join them. It would do you good to get some fresh air after so many hours of basically non-stop traveling. To say you regretted your choice as soon as the clown-head started talking would be an understatement. To say you weren't about to kill JD when gulf balls began to animate and roll around you, was an understatement. To say that you then didn't smack JD behind the head when everything turned out to be alright was... actually, that's not an understatement because that's exactly what you had done. "And you said I wouldn't be safe in Rhonda! When has she ever let me get surrounded by gulf-balls that actually turned out to be Trolls." You had 'scolded' JD as you smacked him behind the head. It wasn't anything hard, just a small one-two to see if he still had some sort of brain in there. JD jerked towards you with the most betrayed look you've every seen him give, "Babe!" JD sputtered, not knowing how to respond to you assault! "I'm about to go back to the trailer." You muttered, a little salty. Crossing your arms you turned away from JD and towards Viva, who was screaming about how the new guests needed friends and milkshakes; Which the other Trolls in the village jumped onto getting. "If you go back I might have to follow you to correct this attituded we're having." JD snirked slyly, crossing his arms as he flashed me a knowing glance. Wiggling his eyebrows and winking playfully, leaving you slightly baffled at his boldness in front of everyone. "JOHN D-" You started, yet was quickly cut off as you hadn't noticed Clay's sudden appearance; or how he had rushed over to say hello to baby Branch and Bruce, giving a lack luster response to JD. That itched you wrong. Sure, you knew JD hadn't been the best to his brothers in their band days but that still gave him no right to look and act like that towards JD. You momentarily forgot JD's comment, or the fact that he probably almost killed you earlier (to which he would rightly remind you about your flare for dramatics, and how much he loved them) and marched over to where Poppy, Branch, and Bruce where. Poppy was attempting to introduce herself to Clay, who stood in front of them, yet you pushed past them and stood as a barrier between the three and Clay; Who gave you a weird look, and was slightly taken a back by your forwardness. "Hel-" Clay tried, but didn't get very far in his greeting. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that you had a stick up your ass that someone needs to remove, Cupcakes." You spat at him as you crossed your arms, shooting him the nastiest glare you could fathom at this point. Which was nasty enough to get both Bruce and Poppy to back up a little, and Poppy to slowly inch Branch away from you and Clay.

Though Branch didn't seem to enjoy the way you were talking to his third eldest brother. He opened his mouth to say something, yet you cut him off, "Furthermore, is that how you're really going to greet your brother after all these years? With plain favoritism to the others despite everything he's had to go through and is trying to actively change because of everything that went wrong, huh?" "Oooh'kay, Babe," JD carefully walked over to you, knowing you were a little on the edge; That and you had smacked him behind the head earlier and he wasn't looking for another one of those. "How about we take a step back and go calm down-" "Nah, Imma beat his ass!" It wasn't the best first meeting you could have had with one of JD's brother, and it also put a little sour kick into the two you had met before, yet it was eventful, that was for sure. Who wouldn't find it eventful for having their older brother's spunky girlfriend almost beat their ass over a few choice words and actions towards him? Yeah... you were going to have to do a little bit of work to mend that with Clay.

@!; You officially, without the fear of him dying or any of the other brothers for that fact, met Floyd before the KISMET and BroZone concert backstage. You were there to support JD, and in turn his brothers. Sure, you had seen and heard all about Floyd before this moment but you weren't exactly sure what to expect from him. Especially since you knew that Clay or at least Bruce or Branch had told Floyd about the whole Clay fiasco on the way back. "You're (Y/N), right?" Floyd's voice from behind you caught your attention despite the current list of groceries you were writing. "Huh?" You muttered at first, having been caught off guard by Floyd's sudden approach. You couldn't help but wonder if he was here for some other reason than first greetings. "Yeah.. that's me... and you're Floyd, right?" Floyd would nod as you set down your pad and pencil on your lap, which was cross-crossed as you sat on the floor. Floyd, still a little worn down from all the talent that was taken from him, joined you on the floor and had decided to sit next to you. You weren't sure why, nor did you completely understand the sudden nerves that had struck in your body. You weren't this nervous when you met any of JD's other brothers; So, how come you were nervous now? Floyd seemed to notice this. His eyebrows frowned up as he smiled softly at you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I'm not here to scold you if that's what you're expecting." There was a hint of laughter in his voice, "I mean, I know what happened when you first met Clay but that's in the past, yeah? Plus, you were only trying to stand up for JD... which is sweet, I appreciated it." You jerked your head up to look at Floyd, a little baffled that he was so different from his other brothers. Before, you had been nervously fiddling with your notepad and pencil, unable to form a word to say to him. Yet, he seemed to somehow calm your nerves. Not instantly, like JD had always managed to do, but slowly with a firm reassurance. "Oh," You mouthed, before smiling, "Yeah, I still don't think I've made that up to Clay yet. I mean," You paused for a second, "I did kind of almost attack him just because he rolled his eyes at JD. It struck a wrong cord with me." Floyd chuckled, "Hey, don't worry, I get it. I always get that icky feeling whenever my brothers fight, but that's just how they are." "A ragtag team of brothers who both love yet hate each other at the exact same time?" You joked, cocking up an eyebrow. "And yet, we wouldn't have it any other way." Floyd replied with a smile, turning to look at his other brothers, who were all warming up and stretching. You glanced down at your notepad, reading the list of groceries you would need to get for the bus when JD and you set off again. There wasn't many placed to stop and get food on the road, unless you and JD gathered and hunted. "Hey, I don't know if anyone has told you this.." Floyd snapped you out of your thoughts again, "But thank you." You were baffled, "Thank you?" "Thank you," Floyd shrugged his shoulders, but his smile was so genuine and sweet. "For being there for John Dory when we weren't. For helping him at his lowest. You know, he talks a lot about you when you're not around and I don't think I would want any other Troll to be with JD than you. Welcome to the family, Sister-in-law." Floyd held out a fist bump, though knew you might need a minute by the tears welling in your eyes.

You had told yourself many, many years ago (when you first got with JD and heard about his band days) that you would never pick a favorite brother of his; Just incase it would cause some sort of family drama to arise. You didn't exactly have siblings, so you didn't really know what they fought about and what they didn't. So you told yourself if you ever met the brothers you would do your best to quell anything that came up. Yet, Floyd was making this very difficult right now... "JOHN DORY FLOYD IS MY FAVORITE BROTHER!" You rushed out, snagging Floyd's wrist and shoving it up in the air; To which he yelped, not having expected such a sudden reaction. John Dory, peaking in front backstage, stared for a moment. He hadn't fully heard you, but was able to quickly piece together what you had said: "WHAT?! BABE I'M MEANT TO BE YOUR FAVORITE!" "I don't make the rules JD, maybe you shouldn't have almost killed me!" "IT WAS ONE TIME AND NOTHING HAPPENED!" "Should have let me stay with Rhonda." You playfully shook your head towards your boyfriend, who stood in the doorway completely baffled and a little butt hurt. But, you couldn't help but laugh as his goofy expression, absolutely loving every part of him; His grumpy sides, his loving sides, and even his down-right baffled and confused sides.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[cor-lapis-candy]

Hear me out, Dottore, experiment with everything once, make an experiment out of sex and not tell you till you see a document with a hypothesis and conclusion after he asked you to try something out with him or his segments, Dottore who I believe whole heartedly that if his partner had a chronic illness would use and experiment on the limits of it.

Say chronic fatigue, a partner that sleeps and sleeps, deep and long no matter how long or short they have been awake, leading him to experiment and mayyyybe development a sleeping beauty kink.

This is about somnophilia and technically CNC as he asks but your already half into sleep, so if someone getting down and dirty with a sleeping person is not your thing don't click the read more.

This is your ⚠️ warning ⚠️.

The cool wood of the desk next to the observation area of Dottore, segments coming and going between the sterile zone and the small area that holds sheets of paper and other documentation for whatever was going on in the room at that small window looked into.

Prime, your partner and lover is standing next to you watching the experiment with a cold indifference that some might take for displeasure if they didn't know him, but as you blink sluggishly at him you can see the curiosity and eager attention to the experiment clear as day.

When he turns to look at you, sliding his mask off and pushing his hair back out of his face, that curiosity becomes all about you, the sleepy, slumped over human that was covered by his harbinger cloak, the fluffy collar almost swallowing your head and cushions you from the hard wood.

The sight brews an idea, just how far could be push when you fell asleep...

He had asked you if he could test something as you were dozing off and the muffled response was affirmative sounding, so once you were down and out he had his segments end the experiment and ran a full sanitation of the lab, it was loud, unbearably loud and yet you didn't even react more than a flinch and mumble before nuzzling into the fluff of his coat.

Following the full sanitation he had one of his segments move you into the lab area, making sure to keep the coat you had wrapped around yourself under your head as he had you laid out on the examination slab.

There are multiple hands tugging and pulling clothes out of the way, there are stops and starts as he thinks sometimes you will wake, making internal notes of what makes you mumble or twitch as his segments finally get you naked and somewhat in position on the slab.

He has each segment run a different task, one is pinching and rolling your nipples with his bare hands, another is kissing and gently gnawing on your neck, the third and final is kneeling on the slab between your legs fingers lubed up and working to slowly open you up.

It's fascinating to watch as his segments manage to get your sleeping form so worked up, lube only being added periodically in small amounts instead of larger more consistent applications, the segment playing with your chest is almost as fervent in marking your chest and collarbones as the one that had changed to kissing and tugging on your earlobes?

Regardless of his segments own proclivities, all of them were still unsuccessful at waking you, your sleep seemed so deep and peaceful that even as he orders the segment that is four fingers deep in you to pull away and find something else to test on your body you do not wake.

Taking the place of his segment, he settles on his knees between your legs, grunting about his coats clasps and the need to undo them for this, once he is able to free himself it's simple to get a segment to lube him up and hold your legs apart as he shuffled closer and eases himself in, sighing happily as his head tilts back and his hips jerk as you tighten around him.

It's a good few minutes into what had devolved into a mess of segments pushing each other out of the way to grope at you, and Dottore prime fucking away between your legs, already having cum twice but downed a small experiment that he had saved for a rainy day to keep himself going, that you begin to wake.

Mouth full of one of the segments and hands cupping one segment each, your neck a mess of bites, hickies, saliva and bruises that lead down to a just as marked up chest, it's disorienting to come back too waking as you groan around the cock in your mouth, swallowing thickly and breathing through your nose as you can barely hear Dottore prime speak up his hips still snapping against yours with a filthy wet squelching sound.

"well now that you're awake, it's time to put some more theories to the test... Now be a good dear and just keep still."

[genderqueerdykes]

its extremely important, i would say even vital to learn about queer history. do not use what i'm about to say as an excuse to ignore our history, however i feel like i need to point something out, because i get a lot and i mean a LOT of questions asking if there are books written on every single queer identity and i have to point out that while it's extremely important to try to look to the past for validation in the present, it's also extremely important to realize that not every single queer experience has to have a long well documented history in order for it to be seen as "valid"

in many places in the world, even writing about being queer can be grounds for being jailed or killed. it's not always safe or practical to publish books, zines, or other written works when it comes to various queer identities. even in places where it is safe, not every single identity is going to be covered and written about. not every queer person feels the desire to write about their experience and not every queer person wants to be immortalized for being queer. this is extremely important to consider

also, queerness is based in identity. identity does not need empirical evidence in order to be legitimate. it may not be easy to find books on certain identities, but that doesn't mean they're not real. as important as it is to refer to books and the writings by other queers, it's also extremely important to not leverage literacy and the ability to publish books and/or zines against certain people and identities. just because there aren't books or comics or poems written about certain identities doesn't mean you can't view them as legitimate.

queerness is not like a scientific theory. it does not need to be proven. it does not need evidence. you do not have to prove that other queer people of the same identity exist in order for your identity to be valid. do NOT use this as an excuse to refuse to learn about queer history, but also do not look down on queer people whose identities don't have books written about them, either. remember that queerness is illegal in many, many places in the world. not every experienced can be published and written about. that's okay.

basically what i'm trying to say is don't use a lack of written records to dismiss certain queer identities or even misgender people. that person's anecdotes, that person's stories are still worth listening to. it doesn't matter that you personally haven't heard of other people identifying that way. don't use books and literature against individual queers. don't weaponize the lack of published work against people with complex or niche identities. having books and sources to refer to is an incredible resource, but that's not why they're there. they're not there so you can refer to them and go "a-hah, this is irrefutable proof that x group of queer people don't exist!" they're there so you can learn about some of the beautiful experiences humanity has to offer.

queer literature and history is important, but just because we don't have proof of something being reflected in the past doesn't mean it's not legitimate in the present. there were periods in time before these books and records that we refer to were published. it doesn't mean the people who came before these works weren't queer, and that their identities weren't legitimate. there have always been queer people as long as humans have existed and it's honestly very shitty to spit in the faces of everyone who came before the common sources we have to refer to today. they were still queer even if they had no books to refer to. queerness is not a science. it's okay to accept someone even if they can't provide you with piles and piles and piles of proof that their identity should be allowed to exist.

you don't necessarily need a "source" to prove that queer identities exist. the "source" is humanity. the "source" is lived experience. don't ever stop learning about our history, but don't use a lack of written records against other queer people. it helps no one. thanks. hope that made sense.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

What about the Doors/Pressure shopkeepers trying to pretend they aren't giving their crush special treatment when in groups. Like, special inventory, discreet discounts, all that jazz

Jeff (Doors)

"Oye, I see what you're doin', Jeff. Thought you weren't one for giving out freebies."

*shrug*

"Don't play dumb! I saw you sneak the skeleton key into their bag! Even Bob's a witness!"

No matter what El Goblino says, Jeff will just wave off any accusations of him giving you "special treatment" whenever you stopped by the shop with your group.

While none of them donated to the tip jar, you were the only one who ever did...and even when you came back again and again, it was always you who showed him charity.

The rest of your group would just argue over what to spend their money on, try to rush ahead, mess with his radio, etc. etc.

But you trust Jeff, and he trusts you <3

So you get small discounts on his wares, and despite him not being able to speak, you could tell he's only looking after you.

The goblin jokes about Jeff's little "crush" on you...then he sees the entity's eyes widen and realizes "wait amigo,,I wasn't being serious do you actually like them?????"

He just shoos him away and will deny it to kingdom come, but it is true.

The moment you realized his feelings for you was when Rush attacked the shop once, and you thought you were done for-

When Jeff instinctively pulled you behind the counter and slammed the shutter down, keeping you uncomfortably close (yet somehow you've never felt safer).

When it's all over, he blushes and lets you go free.

You thank him with a small kiss on the forehead(?) and promise to see him again soon.

The next time you get duped by Dupe, or attacked by Eyes, Timothy, Screech, or a snare and need to heal...you discover a few bandaids in your pocket that weren't there previously...

Huh.

Wonder who gave you those?

Sebastian (Pressure)

Normally, Sebastian doesn't care to make personal connections with any of the expendables.

He's just there as their supplier before seeing them off on their journey, hoping they're putting his resources to good use.

But recently he's been seeing you more often, coming by with a new group or by yourself, trying your best to survive long enough to reach him.

Ofc, you've died to stupid things before (or maybe you're just trying to get all the monster documents..in which he's convinced you're some masochist), but you did have the most common sense out of your group and didn't try to annoy him.

The others just waste flash beacon charges on trying to blind the poor guy and stick the keycard in a medkit they couldn't afford...and for what?

Why do your "friends" do that? Are they stupid or something?

You tell them to stop, and it's...actually kinda nice to hear somebody willing to defend him.

People usually don't give a shit about the giant scary fish's feelings, yet for some reason you do.

Of course, Sebastian was reasonably suspicious about it.

"Are you acting this way just to get a freebie?" He assumes. "Because if you are, then you're definitely as stupid as-"

"No, I'd never do that to you." You shake your head. "You're here, helping us survive out there, risking a lot to get us those supplies...is it wrong for me to appreciate that?"

"......"

He goes quiet for a minute, but after the rest of your group leaves, he asks you to stay for a moment.

"You were looking at this Necrobloxicon for a while...you must reeeeally want it, huh?" He grins, flicking his tail where the book was strapped. "It's a rarity."

"I...can't afford that. I'm fine with this dingy flashlight-"

"It's yours for 70% off. Take it or leave it."

You do a double take. "Wait, wha-"

"70% off. Take it. Or leave it." He says through gritted teeth, impatient, only to smile when you accept the deal without further question. "Good. Now don't go telling anyone I'm offering discounts. That's your only one unless I feel generous. Capiche?"

"Gotcha. Thank you, Seb. This means a lot. I hope to see you again soon." You smile back, holding the spooky book tightly, and leave him alone with his thoughts.

And a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest-

Wait.

"Oh no....what the fuck am I doing????? That's it! NO more discounts for anyone, Sebastian!" He scolds himself.

Little does he know, he's gonna keep giving them out, but only for you.