#i hope you go to sleep thinking about what a good delightful day you had.

[felassan]

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 2. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Three]

The dev team really wanted to deliver on Emmrich's romance [source]

Sylvia Feketekuty has now left BioWare so there are likely some things she can't answer now "just because I can't look them up with certainty anymore" [source]

When Emmrich is first introduced, he has a skull helmet. Why does it never ever appear for the next 40-100 hours? "The helmet does indeed look wicked! I believe it actually shows up on his shelf in the Lighthouse eventually. (If I had been a smarter writer I would've asked if we could have it appear again, that one's on me.)" [source]

User: "In another post you mentioned shops in Nevarra City near the Necropolis. How far IS Nevarra City itself is from the Necropolis? Do only senior MWs get to go?" / Sylvia: "I'm reluctant to say what the distance is since I never defined it in game so it's Unknown™. But I imagine they can either walk or take a carriage, depending. Also I never imagined junior MWers are forbidden from going into town or such. It could be they have set hours and times where they're allowed. But got to get all those chores done first..." [source, two]

On the DA:I goat scene ([link]) - "The GOAT! God bless them, that was a delight." [source]

Brian J. Audette, on [this thread] - ""Better late than never" addendum to this thread. I just noticed that Isle of the Gods' writer Sylvia is on here now and I'd be remiss not to tag her in this thread. I can't say enough wonderful things about having worked with Sylvia on this mission." [source] / Sylvia: "Thanks Brian! You tackled an absolutely jam-packed mission with aplomb." [source]

Jo Berry: "Thank you for everything and everything else, on both Veilguard and Inquisition. Sunlight on your road, wherever it goes." [source] / Sylvia: "Thank YOU for all your writing Jo. Seriously, you were a godsend on Veilguard and DAI both." [source]

Trick Weekes: "It's been fantastic working with you, Sylvia, and I know you're going to crush it with whatever you do next. Thank you for finally letting me make you "the person who has to do journals so Trick doesn't" on one of our projects." [source] / Sylvia: "Thank you Trick! I'll miss working with you. It was an honour to finally be given the awesome responsibility of the journal system that still haunts my dreams." [source]

John Epler: "sylvia did you see i told the world Emmrich sleeps standing up like a horse" [source] / Sylvia: "It's days later but: yes. Yes I did." [source]

User: "As someone who also has a truly debilitating fear of death, Emmrich is so special to me. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen it represented in such a clear and concise way." / Sylvia: "Thanks, definitely felt that fear myself. I really wanted to express it clearly and was hoping would resonate with others." [source]

User: "Do you have any thoughts or opinions on what nickname Emmrich might have gotten from Varric if he'd ever gotten one?" / Sylvia: "Oh man that's a good question, but ultimately since I didn't write Varric, that must remain a mystery. Nicknames can only be bestowed. ("Bones" like someone suggested below is funny though.)" [source]

User: "If Emmrich's hobby is alchemy/plants, Vorgoth's is art, and Audric's is architecture... what's Myrna's? (Next to Emmrich, she's my favorite Watcher - sorry Vorgoth!)" / Sylvia: "Myrna has a one off line, you may not have heard it yet, where she talks to Vorgoth about getting tickets to the Sword of Drakon.* She enjoys a night out at the theater, whether it's a play or an opera. *(I think that's the play I named, I hope I'm recalling my own line haha.) It's a bit indulgent of me, but I chose Sword of Drakon because it was one of the plays I made up for a series of codices in DAI about Orlesian theater. I had a lot of fun with these and wanted to give them life once more. [link]" [source, two]

User: "During Rook’s disappearance in the prison, how did Emmrich react? Considering their intense romance, did he fall into depression, or did he show a more vulnerable side? Could his fear of death have influenced the situation? In the immortal romance💀, Emmrich promises that nothing will separate them, not in this world or any other. How likely is that? Would he go to great lengths for Rook, even crossing boundaries? Or, at some point, would he accept Rook's death?" / Sylvia: "1) Very strongly! I think it's a bit more interesting if I leave details to your imaginations, but Emmrich feels things deeply and probably had some sleepless nights. 2) So this I can't say much on even though it's a juicy topic. The truth is, I wouldn't even know unless I was actually sitting down to write it. Again, Emmrich feels things very passionately, but this is the kind of scenario where I might want the player's choices to have an effect." [source, two]

User: "Any chance that color scheme [of Emmrich's coat] was based off the corpse flower?" / Sylvia: "I couldn't find anything on the colour scheme and the corpse flower. Afraid this one's a mystery to me." [source]

User: "I'm really curious if there's a Nevarrese language? We have Orlesian, Antivan, Tevene, Qunlat..." / Sylvia: "I wondered that myself, especially given its ancient ties with Tevinter and also Orlais which would certainly have affected the languages of power and influence. Could also have roots with the Planasene. We never talked about one though, as far as I know, so the answer remains...unknown. 💀 (I did introduce tomb-script, the language you see etched into stone in the Necropolis, but I thought of it as more of a specialist's language for occult and magical things specifically.) (If we did define a Nevarran language in some corner of the lore, now I'm going to feel embarrassed, but I don't BELIEVE we did.)" [source, two, three]

User: "I wanted to ask if you have anything you can share about MW grave dowry jewellery - is it the sort of thing they keep on at all times? Also, would Emmrich like jewellery gifts or give them to Rook?" / Sylvia: "I figured it would be something they wear most of the time, or at least in public. You don't want to be without your grave-gold if you pass away! Emmrich would love to get jewellery, especially if it marked a special occasion like his other pieces do! He'd also probably like to gift Rook a piece of grave gold himself, though he knows a non-MW Rook might look at that part askance." [source, two]

User: "Question: how much if anything can you tell us about the circumstances surrounding the emergence of Emmrich's magic and him going to the Mourn Watch? In my mind, his parents' death could certainly be a catalyst for the emergence of mage powers, but I'm so curious why the butcher's boy goes to what seems the equivalent of Nevarran Harvard instead of a regular Circle unless he immediately demonstrated outstanding ability?" / Sylvia: So timeline wise, I think his magic manifested after he was taken in. This part isn't canon, so much as a background thought I had that maybe the spirits of the Necropolis nudged the MW to scoop up this future corpse-whisperer. It seems like a kind of place ripe for that sort of omen. That said, it could've also been a kindhearted Watcher who saw how shattered and alone this young boy was, and thought an upbringing in the Grand Necropolis would be the better place to deal with his grief. It's the kind of thing I want to leave open unless someone goes back one day to fill it out!" [source, two]

User: "what’s the overall Mourn Watch opinion on the whole Weekend at King Markus’s the other Mortalitasi are pulling? I can’t blame Emmrich for not wanting to be involved with that political mess!" / Sylvia: "No clue what you're talking about. King Markus is in the finest of health!!!!! ahahahahaha (To my mind Emmrich's response indicates a tension between the orders, but that they're going along with the polite fiction to avoid a mess. I can't say what the future holds though.)" [source]

User: "Ah, one last note: whoever decided “DA liches are immortal protectors and not always evil?” Chef’s kiss. It’s all I’ve ever wanted!" / Sylvia: "Thanks again! It was in Emmrich's first draft. The other writers and editors gave me good feeback on lichdom and the philosophy behind it especially" [source]

User: "I'm an ICU nurse, and that is imagined to confer a comfort with mortality. Suffice to say Emmrich has been a huge comfort to see." / Sylvia: "Thanks so much. I really wanted him to struggle with it while also engaging with it, because it's something I find hard as well. And I hoped it would find purchase with players." [source]

User: "If you’re willing, can you share a bit about the other orders within the Mortalitasi? Is there a rivalry with the Tevinter Imperium?" / Sylvia: I'm afraid I don't have much, sorry. I left the other Mortalitasi orders a big open canvas in case we wanted to invent more some day. (We've mentioned the palace Mortalitasi are separate from the Mourn Watch, so there's one. As you probably caught, Emmrich's not a fan of theirs.) Is there a rivalry with the Tevinter Imperium? I can't really point to anything in the game talking about that, so I hesitate to call it canon. But to my mind it would be very natural and also very funny. So if that ever manifests, I approve." [source, two]

User: "was any of Emmrich's design or personality modeled on British actor David Niven? I think there is resemblance just wondering if that was intentional." / Sylvia: "Oh I love David Niven. But the more direct actor influence for me was Peter Cushing in a few old Hammer Horror films." [source]

User: "just wanted to say thank you for creating the character of Josephine in Inq!! Helped me learn some stuff about myself when I was younger and meant a lot." / Sylvia: "Thank you so much on all counts! I'm glad the lovely Lady Montilyet was there for you (and enormous credit to her actor, Allegra Clark. She absolutely nailed Josephine, straight away.)" [source]

User, on Emmrich: "He mentions he thought he would marry - is that permitted for Mortalitasi when it wasn't for regular Circle mages? Can they now raise their own children?" / Sylvia: Mortalitasi have a lot of power. I imagine the Nevarran Chantry might grant them permission to marry outside the Circle more regularly than in places where mages are given less respect. (Mages can also marry within Circles, so no permission needed in those cases.) The same might be true for mages raising mage-born children in Nevarra, but I say that with less certainty. I think that's a topic I would've wanted to discuss with the rest of the narrative team." [source, two]

User: "is there a particular reason why emmrich is always wearing a glove on one hand?" / Sylvia: "I like to think it's mostly because he works a lot with his hands. The glove seems useful if he has to, say, grip a rough outcrop of rock when traversing the Necropolis, or deal with a bitey corpse." [source]

User, on Emmrich: "On my 1st run I played a trans Rook and romanced him. It felt incredible how he was so accepting of Rook's identity, and in return she could support him as he did a transition of his own as well. Beautiful mirroring!" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much! If those scenes worked, it's thanks to some people at work who kindly gave feedback that helped get the tone right." [source]

User: "I've been wanting to thank you for writing Luck in the Gardens for 4 years. Hollix was the first time I ever saw a non-binary character given a real voice." / Sylvia: "I loved writing Hollix in that story, they were a treat, and I'm glad they meant a lot to you. (And a shout out to a nb friend who gave me some good feedback on the character, I don't think the story would've been as clear without their help.)" [source]

User: "I was curious about Audric from TN, and if he originally was planned to have an appearance in veilguard, and what he's up to now" / Sylvia: "Love Audric, but I never planned to bring him into VG. I'm not AGAINST it, but I didn't want the short stories to feel like required reading for the game, and I liked where his arc ended in DatDM. That said, I dropped in a few references to Audric to let people know he's around and well. And I imagine he's doing what he loves: being a force of order, in the library. (And reading books during the more quiet hours below.)" [source, two]

User: "As a consumer of (and probably future creator of) so called "erotic" fanficfion, I'm wondering how you feel about the fact that fans make it about a character you created?" / Sylvia: "No issues with it whatsoever. We put sex and romance into the game itself, after all. I think people use fan art and fanfiction to extend their time with a story they've grown fond of, or to figure things out. So it feels like a natural extension of that." [source]

User: "Maybe one day my rook will join the mw!" / Sylvia: "Well, the Grand Necropolis is always eager for more company...🪦👻" [source]

User: "did the flame eternal (short story) come first or the flame eternal (quest)? i’ve been wondering if the quest was named after the story or vice versa" / Sylvia: "I wrote the scene first, the short story came after. But I named the quest AFTER the short story had come out, so I'd say the quest is named for the story because I liked the callback." [source]

User: "1.I know John answered already that Emmrich sleeps like a horse but is there really no bed for this man? 2.How would he react to a bouquet made for him?" / Sylvia: "1. Unknown. Perhaps he brings out pillows and a blanket for the slab in his room (after scrubbing it, of course!) Perhaps he goes home to an elaborate silk-covered bed in his Necropolis apartments. Or the horse thing. (TBH: I never decided myself, so I've leaned into impish mystery). 2. Emmrich would be absolutely delighted and flattered by being presented with a flower bouquet." [source, two]

User: "I hope it's okay to pop here but it might interest you to know a lot of us have been headcanoning that he has a secret bedroom behind one of his bookshelves! It seemed to line up with his sensibilities somewhat." / Sylvia: "That would honestly be great. Pull out the right book and snooze time." [source]

User, on the cemetery date: "This makes me feel like Mourn Watchers include the dead in important personal milestones/events and, if so, I love that so much. Like they want to share these events and the joy/love/excitement/etc. with those who have passed (and perhaps linger.)" / Sylvia: "That's absolutely how I thought of it too." [source]

User: "was there any game/book/show/film that inspired the Mourn Watch and Emmrich? When I saw them in the preview content, I got reminded of the Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir and playing through the game cemented those vibes." / Sylvia: "I hadn't read any Locked Tomb when writing Emmrich, I think we must both just have impeccable taste. (I actually tried to stay away from contemporary stuff on necromancy when writing him, out of a superstitious fear I'd be unduly influenced. I do want to talk about influences later though!)" [source]

User, on Josie: "Do you think she’s open to having kids/adopting with the Inquisitor? Lord Ontranto and Yvette are so ahead!" / Sylvia: "I think that falls firmly within the category of what you imagine she and your Inquisitor's romance looks like, which means: absolutely, if that's where you imagine life would take them." [source]

User: "Emmrich, his story & everything surrounding him absolutely played a huge part in helping to lift me up & connecting me with new friends online" / Sylvia: "Thank you! And I'm very glad to hear Emmrich and his fellow Watchers helped you out when you needed it. He'd be pleased to know so himself." [source]

User: "Was it ever considered for him to appear in the game?" / Sylvia: "(short answer is no, but I wanted to let people know Audric's doing well.)" [source]

User: "I enjoyed your short stories in Tevinter Nights. Emmrich mentioned working out in the morning. What does his morning routine look like, and what kind of exercise does he do?" / Sylvia: "Thanks so much! Those stories have a special place in my heart, so that's especially nice to hear. On exercise: He likes a brisk stroll, and does morning stretches, and for something more strenuous, he likes to go swimming. Why? It's a workout where you don't have to worry about sweating. That just seemed to align with his fastidiousness in a funny way to me. (I also imagine exploring the Necropolis keeps him active, climbing all those stairs and crumbling ledges and the outsized walls of hallowed tombs, etc.)" [source, two]

User: "Harding will turn to a MW Rook who's been talking nerdy necro shop with Emmrich, and goes (paraphrasing), "You're so different when you're talking about this stuff than you are when you hang out with us!" and I loved that" / Sylvia: "Yes indeed! And thanks. I really wanted a beat where you realize MW Rook has learned to swap between being a fancy nerd and talking a bit more like "regular" people in Thedas. It seemed like a fun trait for that background." [source]

Sylvia, on how she came to BioWare: "No formal training. The closest to practice I had was running tabletop RPGs for friends, which actually helped me a lot with understanding the different kind of RPG players out there and what people want out of a story. And honestly: I just kept applying, over and over. That was my main virtue. I was rejected the first couple times I applied to BW. And rightly, I think, I wasn't ready and practicing in between really helped me become a stronger writer." [source, two]

Some more on this topic ^ from Sylvia: "To be honest: mostly luck, some perseverance, and then writing skills, in that order. I was rejected at least twice from BW before I got in, and I think they were right to do so. I wasn't ready yet. The third round someone I knew passed on my sample to a writer there, I did two more rounds of samples while taking feedback and revising over the next month. And then I was lucky enough they liked it enough to interview me. I wish I had better advice than perseverance. I think having a small, completed game, even something text based or a mod, isn't bad either. Even if it's short, it shows you finished it. But: my entry was over 15 years ago now, and to be honest I'm not sure what BW's applicant process are anymore. I don't want to be discouraging though. I would say keep applying, and make friends with like minded people who also want to make games, and best of luck." [source, two, three, four]

User: "I've been wondering something about Mourn Watch Rook's background - their bio says they were found as a baby + raised by the MW, and they reference it in-game, but then they also say they were a street kid and left their old life behind to join the MW to Taash. I'm just curious how one - being raised by the MW - lead to the other - street kid era. I just hc'd it as a euphemism for my Rook's party girl phase lol but it did leave me a little confused." / Sylvia: "This is a case of the background changing slightly over time, and me not squaring it in time with dialogue. In my mind: MW IS found by the Mourn Watch, raised by them, and work for them. But MW Rook also had period(s?) growing up where they explored Nevarra city, to explain why they're more. street savvy and worldly than your typical Watchers who never leave the city. I've seen people noting some discrepancies, and in a perfect world I would've caught those lines in time to smooth them out to encompass the whole story. But perhaps your Rook gives slightly different answers to different people for their own, mysterious reasons! (Or, in reality, it's writer error.)" [source, two, three] "Anyhow, I encourage any head canons that help square these discrepancies" [source]

User: "I romanced him on a Rook that I perceived as about 42ish and my running interpretation of the lines acknowledging her being young were either Emmrich not realizing how old she is, a running bit between them, or some cute form of flattery to not remind her of her own age haha" / Sylvia: "That's adorable, I love it" [source]

User: "1. What would Josie's ideal date be? 2. Could adopted kids be heir of the Montilyet estate or would it go to Yvette? 3. What does Josie think of the Crows?" / Sylvia: "1. I think she'd try to structure something, but the Inquisitor taking her away from her strictly scheduled routine to relax would actually be better for her. A picnic in a garden, a stroll around a lake followed by a meal in a quiet little restaurant. Something with a soft evening. 2. I don't think I ever said so in the game, but to my mind Josephine had some nieces and nephews in line to be heir. If she adopted a child and thought they'd be a better candidate, they could absolutely inherit the estate. (And of course, she could bequeath money or personal effects as she liked.) 3. She thinks of them as a necessity in Antiva, and that it's important to appease them. There's probably highly placed Crows she would get along with. But she'd never be comfortable with them. At the end of the day they're contract killers, and she's no lover of violence. (If I actually DID mention who Josephine had lined up to inherit the estate after her, but just forgot, I will ask for mercy because the game came out over 10 years ago.)" [source, two, three, four]

User: "Would you ever consider making a playlist on spotify of the sort of music you could picture Emmerich listening to? Or perhaps sharing any of the music you listened to while writing Emmrich?" / Sylvia: "I actually have an itunes playlist of what I listened to when writing Emmrich on my old computer. If I dig it out, I'll post a screenshot! (A lot of ambient stuff, probably unsurprisingly)" [source]

User: "I utterly, completely adore the way Josephine was written, she's such a wonderful and complex character. Her history as a bard, her ruthlessness, her kindness and sweet nature and how CUTE her romance is." / Sylvia: "Lady Montilyet herself would be flattered to hear you liked it." [source]

User, on Sylvia's comment about Peter Cushing being a go-to for what Emmrich would be like: "This makes me so unbelievably happy given my love for Peter Cushing 😭 my love for Emmrich was inevitable." / Sylvia: "I want to talk a little more about it later but Cushing was such a wonderful actor. Wish we'd had him around even longer." [source]

User, on death and working in death care: "In the end, it’s always about memory." / Sylvia: "That's so true. We want to be remembered, or to have something that lets people know even a little about who we are. (It's why I'm glad newspapers still print obituaries, you can read about the most amazing lives.)" [source]

User: "I was starting to think the game was reading my mind and tailoring to me once he said his favorite color was lilac, and I was given the option to say darker purple." / Sylvia: "I'm glad you enjoyed Emmrich and his romance. And that the bit about colours worked for you, I was trying to think of what would be something fun there, and purple is one of my favorites too. (Fine taste!)" [source]

User: "“Down Among the Dead Men” is one of my favorite chapters from Tevinter Nights. I loved Audric and I was so happy when Myrna mentioned him in Veilguard! Was there any chance he might’ve appeared in game?" / Sylvia: "basically I didn't plan it, but I wanted to let TN readers know Audric is living well" [source]

User: "If Hezenkoss was also you ALL of that was a sheer stroke of brilliance!" / Sylvia: "Thank you! Hezenkoss was me, so glad you liked her. She was a blast to write. Oh my god, I meant to write Hezenkoss was one of my favorites not "me". (I think I snipped out something and consequentially sound like a maniac in that post above. SORRY. She is not me, I wish I had that kind of confidence.)" [source, two]

User, on behalf of their friend: "Well, spontaneously I'd be interested if she can say any more about Emmrich's past romances. Was there someone really serious among them, or all just fun and casual? I'm also curious how the whole mage training works in Nevarra. Are some trained from the start by the Mourn Watch or does everyone go to the Mortalitasi equivalent of a Circle first?" / Sylvia: "1. I think there was probably a mix of more serious romances and more casual ones over Emmrich's life. The serious ones just never panned out. (Until Rook, if you're romancing him.) 2. I pictured the MW taking in promising members from other circles, but I left their selection criteria vague on purpose, in case we needed to define it later. Of course, there's also exceptions. We've seen they take in some orphans or foundlings (MW Rook and Emmrich, for example) when fate, chance, or pity allows it. (I had an idea spirits might sometimes nudge MWers to take in someone, but that's not in the game, so it remains, I suppose now, my own head canon.)" [source, two, three, four]

User: "Emmrich is every bit the warm and kind academic that I looked up to in my undergrad/postgrad days, and I have taken time in the game just to wander the Grand Necropolis and take everything in." / Sylvia: "My pleasure, and thanks very much for saying so. (Props to all my teammates, it took a lot of people to bring those characters and places to life, and they were all so enthusiastic about our weird gothy corner of Thedas.)" [source]

User, on Emmrich's dream: "One of few cases where writers don't go for "actually immortality is lame" lesson to appease the audience for whom immortality is unattainable. Refreshing to have a character who wants to live forever, can do it, and it isn't treated as a mistake. One of the boldest bits of writing in the game." / Sylvia: "Thanks Mary - that was one of my aims, because so many times in stories, immortality is a fool's errand. I wanted it to have its rules, and its price, but not something disastrous or out of reach." [source]

User: "The MW as a whole was beautifully done and the way they handle life and death was deeply healing and aided tremendously in my own personal journey with grief." / Sylvia: "I'm very glad meeting Emmrich and the Watchers helped even a little, that means a lot to hear." [source]

User: "Amazing work in veilguard and inquisition honestly and the flame eternal was such a fun read! Unless it’s been answered before my query is where do the Mourn watchers live/sleep? Is it a case of they live in the higher parts of the Necropolis or do they live in the city and commute?" / Sylvia: "Flame Eternal was a fun one, hadn't written a story that short before but I enjoyed introducing Johanna and Emmrich's dynamic back in their good old days... As to your question, there's one line of banter between Emmrich and Neve that talks about this (so, very easy to miss.) The Mourn Watchers live and sleep in the upper (safer) levels of the Necropolis." [source, two]

User: "does mortal!Emmrich return to the Necropolis or spend more time in the world first? He plays detective with Neve & camps in Ferelden with Harding feels like he’d want to experience more of the world before returning home." / Sylvia: "Impossible for me to say what the future will hold with certainty, but I think Emmrich's enjoying exploring the world too much to go back to living in the Necropolis full time just yet. He'd certainly want to keep visiting regularly, but there's so much more to see." [source]

Sylvia: "The Watchers have a special place in my heart." [source]

User: "I just wanted to say how much I love Emmrich" / Sylvia: "Thank you very much! I'm so glad to hear you enjoyed getting to know him." [source]

at this point tumblr stopped letting me add to this post !

[fulane-de-tal]

need all the non christians and my ally combatants in the war on christmas to come bitch and moan about christian hegemony with me. this is horrible.

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part three)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, fighting (verbal).

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: idk yall, this kinda ate ngl. I’m so proud of this and I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I did! <3 also I’m sorry to all the Pedro girlies…I had to. 

part three: uninvited

The past few days seemed to drag on slower than you wished they had. The rest of your time in London was spent doing various interviews centered around your upcoming album release and Ashley dragged you around to every possible tourist attraction around. It was all rather mundane- every interview was the same and every attraction too crowded for your liking. You were being a grump but you were tired and anxious. All the hype around your sophomore album delighted you, truly it did, but the doubts always took up more space in your mind than you cared to admit. With this album, you took a lot of inspiration from the pop girlies of the early 2000s, Britney being the biggest influence. You allowed yourself to explore your sexuality and true self. The songs were erotic in the best way and in just a few weeks, everyone would have access to that side of you. The image you’d been portraying wasn’t that of a ‘soft good girl’ per say but you hadn’t been this open and honest before. It was terrifying. 

You landed at LAX around two in the morning, giving you a few hours of sleep before your 11am meeting. This was one of those times you didn’t mind using the perks of your fame. You had a car waiting to pick Ashley and yourself  up to take you straight home, allowing both of you to get some sleep as the driver fought through the airport traffic. The moment you reached your small house, you threw your luggage across the living room and dropped face down into the couch, falling back into a deep sleep with Ashley right next to you. When your alarms go off at nine am, you’re banging your head into the couch cushions, the seven hours of sleep feeling like a blink. You roll slightly allowing yourself to fall the short distance from the couch onto the floor. “Ow…” You mumble, rubbing the back of your head. Dragging yourself up, you sluggishly made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower. It was something you should have done last night. Just thinking about all the germs sitting on your body right now made a quick chill of disgust roll down your spine. You heavily disliked sleeping in your ‘outside clothes’ but the tiredness beat the cleanliness last night. 

Sweat pants and a hoodie weren’t exactly meeting appropriate but it wasn’t anything serious, just a little gathering to figure out some last minute details for the album listening party being thrown for your friends and family. You didn’t want it to be a huge deal but your label saw it as a marketing opportunity. If it were up to you, it would be a simple get together at your house but they insisted on it being at some club that would have paparazzi waiting to take pictures. You aren’t even sure why you're needed at the meeting because your input wasn’t even being considered, you just sat and gave the ‘stamp of approval’. Ashley was still knocked out when you walked to your kitchen to grab a small breakfast- a protein yogurt and some apple slices. You’d much prefer french toast but your trainer has been onto you about your diet with a tour coming up. You needed to be in good shape to dance and sing at the same time, it was ridiculous how hard it was. 

“Hey Ash, imma head out, i’ll be back soon.” You shake her shoulder lighty. She opens her eyes to some degree and mutters, what sounded like, an ‘okay’. You sighed as you started the engine to your 2000 green Toyota Corolla. It had been making a funny noise before your trip overseas that you had forgotten all about it. A lot of your newer, richer, friends have made fun of your car but you couldn’t find reason to part with it. It still ran and got you where you needed to be. You loved your fugly little car. The car ride was surprisingly short, traffic light. Pulling into the office parking lot, you sent a quick text to Stacy. 

You: please tell me you’re here already 😭

Stacypoo <33: I am. 4th floor, take a right. I’ll wait in the hall for you. 

You sent a thumbs up and made your way to the front doors. The elevator ride was quick, luckily you were the only one in there, saving you from making any awkward small talk with some random person. You were too tired to keep up your friendly demeanor. Stacy was standing outside of an office door when you first saw her. Giving quick hellos, she motioned you into the room. 

“How long do you think they’ll have us sitting here this time?” You ask jokingly. You’ve made yourself as comfortable as possible in the cheap plastic chair with a thin cushion on the seat. With your elbows propped up on the table, your head sat heavy with both hands holding up your cheeks. 

She lets out a snort before responding. “Who knows. I swear these people make us wait on purpose as some kind of power move.” 

Stacy had left London a day before you had. The moment your last interview was over, she was jumping on the first flight back home. She looked well rested and put together. You envied her ability to bounce back into routine so quickly. The two of you filled the small room with back and forth conversation about the day in London she had missed. Three people from your management/ label came tumbling in fifteen minutes later. As you suspected, you were doing a whole lot of nothing. 

“The team we hired are allowed to go into the club at noon to start decorating and the party will start at 10pm.” One of the people spoke, you think his name is Mark, but you aren’t completely sure. 

“Will y/n need to be there at a certain time or is 10 fine?” Stacy asks. 

“She can show up at ten but she won’t be in the main room until 10:30 so she can give a speech and introduce the album.” Stacy gives a nod and types that into her laptop. You didn’t like the idea of giving a speech. 

“Okay, let's go over the guest list one more time and then we can wrap this up.” Mark, you think, says. You’re paying closer attention now, they hand you a list and you skim it. There's a lot of names of people who you consider more of an acquaintance than a friend but you can’t really uninvite them. 

“Um, can I actually add two more people to this list?” You ask and Mark nods. Stacy is giving you a questioning look. 

“Can you add Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman? I um.. I met them the other day and they said they were fans. It would be cool to have them there.” You smile and from the corner of your eye, you can see Stacy pursing her lips, trying to hold back a laugh. One of the other people in the room, not Mark, adds their names to the guest list. Stacy and Mark talk for a few more minutes before the meeting is coming to a close. Once Stacy and yourself are enclosed in the elevator, she’s looking over at you with a lopsided grin, shaking her head slowly. 

“What?” You give her a small chuckle, feeling extra giddy. 

“You're unbelievable. Why even extend the invite to Mr. Reynolds when all you want is to see Huge Jackman.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at the play on Hugh’s name. 

“So not true. They like my music, why not invite them to hear the album before anyone else?” You deny her accusations. 

“Whatever you say y/n.” She drags out the ‘ever’ a little too long to emphasize just how much she doesn’t believe a word you say. The elevator is opening and the walk to the parking lot is silent. Stacy bids you goodbye and says that she would be in touch soon before she’s walking away. 

“Wait! Stacy!” You call out to her and she’s turning back to you.  “I need you to track down Hugh’s number, I want to personally invite him.” You smirk and she’s just shaking her head in a joking manner. 

“Byeee Stacypoooo!” 

—

When you got home, Ashley was awake and watching tv on your couch. You sat with her and talked about everything you had learned at the meeting. She was more excited for the event than you were, it was her type of scene. You knew you'd end up having fun once you were there but you were nervous. You might have left out the fact that you had invited Ryan and Hugh as last minute guests- it was something she could find out the day of if they showed up. She left not too long after, leaving you to pick up your home a little bit. You cleaned it pretty thoroughly before leaving the country but you felt a little overwhelmed by the unpacked luggage that sat in the middle of your living room floor. You packed too much clothing for the short trip, a lot of what was in the suitcase never even got worn. You decided to throw it all in the washer anyway. Dirtys clothes touching clean clothes makes them all dirty in your mind. In the middle of moving your laundry into the washing machine, your phone quacked signaling that Stacy had messaged you. She earned her own notification sound after the endless mixed texts and calls over the first few months of her working for you. It was a terrible habit you had, not answering your phone, but you usually paid attention to it when you were expecting contact. You pressed start on the machine and sauntered over to the kitchen counter your phone sat on. 

Stacypoo <33: the deed is done…have fun loser 

There was a second text that contained a number to which you assumed was Hugh’s. You smiled brightly as you texted Stacy a quick ‘thank you, love you’ text with a million heart emojis. You wasted no time, immediately creating contact for the man you were so eager to see again. 

You: hey hugh, it’s y/n! my label is throwing a listening party for my album that’s coming out soon and I thought it would be really cool if you were there. no pressure to come if you don’t want to but it’s on september 14th at Disco Lights at 10pm. 😊💕

You hit send, put your phone back on the counter, and ran across your house, needing to be as far away from the device as possible. Keeping yourself busy was probably your best option right now, so that’s what you did. You continued where you left off by putting your suitcases back into the storage closet in your hallway. Living alone made you realize how neat of a person you were. Back home it felt like you were constantly cleaning but you didn’t have to do as much in your own home. It was a simple three bedroom with one and a half bathrooms. Two of the three rooms weren’t used that frequently- one being a guest bed and the other being an at home studio/ office. The most you had to do was an occasional dust and sweep. You ran out of things to do too quickly. It had maybe been an hour since you sent the text and you were too nervous to even take a peek at your phone yet. You walked over to the counter comically slow and stared down at the phone screen, too afraid to look at the notifications. There were only three outcomes to this situation- one he doesn’t respond, two he can’t come, or three he agrees to come. You were hoping it was the latter option. The worst outcome was him ignoring you, you hated being ignored. It would also overall be the awkwardest outcome because his team will more than likely extend the invite to him as well. Maybe it would have been easier that way but you really wanted an excuse to get his number and talk to him. 

It felt like eternity had passed before you finally grabbed your phone, but in reality it was probably only a minute, you’ve never had the best self restraint. You unlocked it, opening the home screen, not even bothering to look at the pile of notifications, instead opting to go straight into the message app. 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Hey y/n. I’d be delighted to come. 😁

You let out a loud screech after reading the message. If you were laying down, you’d be kicking your feet in the air and twirling your hair. You knew he was old but the way he texted did something to you. It was weird but the simplicity in his words was such a turn on. Everything about him turned you on, he was sex on legs, and he was coming to your party. You checked the time he sent the message to see that he responded only ten minutes after you had sent yours. You felt bad for leaving him hanging for so long. 

You: YAY!! I’ll see you there 😘

The added kiss was bold and flirty, you’d hope he would see it as such. You wanted to continue texting him but didn’t want to bother him, so you left it up for him to decide to text you back or not. Just as you were about to swipe out of the app, three little dots popped up at the bottom of the screen. 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: What should I wear? I haven’t been to a club in awhile. 

You: wear whatever you want. I'm sure you’d look good in anything ;)

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Thank you sweetheart. I genuinely do need help though. I’m too old to pick out club clothes. 😂

You: hmmm.. if it would help I could send you a picture of my outfit? maybe it will inspire you 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Yeah we can try that. 

Ashley begged you to go shopping with her the moment you told her about the event and you both have had outfits picked out for a few weeks. When you got home that day, you put on the outfit, snapping a quick mirror picture to send to your hair and makeup artist so she could start brainstorming. You opted to send the same picture to Hugh. 

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Oh! That’s nice. 

You laughed at that. The picture of you wasn’t the best quality but you still looked hot. You were wearing a silver mini skirt that was lined with large sequins, ones that reminded you of a purse you had when you were younger. The top was a silver latex halter top that made your cleavage look devine. To top the look off, you wore a pair of shiny silver heels that could almost be classified as stilettos, but you wanted to be able to move around comfortably. You could have easily pulled the outfit out of your closet and snapped a picture of it but you wanted to tease him.

You: thank you! did that help at all? 😊

Hugh Jackman 🥰: Yeah, it did... Thank you sweetheart. 

You: no problem! 

He didn’t respond right away this time and being the menace you are, you were hoping it was because you made him flustered. 

—

The two and half weeks leading up to the listening party seemed to drag on now that you were more excited for it. Now that Hugh was coming, you were also extra nervous. While you got your hair and makeup done, all you could think about was how everyone was about to hear about your sex fantasies for almost an hour straight. You were counting on the beat of the music and the fact that this was everyone's first listening to distract them from processing the lyrics right away. You hadn’t heard much from Hugh and you were scared that you might have offended him with the picture you had sent. You decided to send a text two days ago asking if he was still planning on coming, to which he replied positively. 

Butterflies danced around your tummy as you posed for a few pictures before you went out to join the party. You could hear it in full swing, a playlist that you had curated playing in the background. Breathing in and out slowly, someone handed you a microphone and you were being ushered to a small stage that sat in the back of the club. The music got turned down and the lights centered towards you, a wave of quiet flooded the room. 

“Hi everyone! I’m beyond thankful for everyone here tonight. This album has been so much fun to make and I feel like it really represents me as an artist. It pays tribute to the amazing women of the late 90s and early 2000s who changed the pop game and who inspired me to make music. I really hope y’all like it! Without further ado, here is ‘Secret Sounds’!” The gathering of your friends, family, and acquaintances cheer as the first song starts to play. You rush over to the side to hand the mic back to the crew member and you begin to make your rounds. You stop here and there, speaking to people you hardly know, thanking them for being here. The club was packed, making it hard to move around without stopping to talk every step you took. There were only a few people you really wanted to see right now. A smile is glued to your face, soaking in all the love in the room, with it only being partially forced. You can see Ashley across the crowd and you start making your way towards her. You don’t make it far before there's a hand on your shoulder stopping you. 

“Hey baby.” A familiar voice comes from behind you causing your smile to drop as you turn around. 

“Pedro…what are you doing here?” You ask with a mix of shock and irritation in your voice. 

“You invited me, remember?” He’s smiling as if he hadn’t broken up with you in the cruelest way almost two months ago. 

“I thought you’d be smart enough to take the breakup and me ignoring you as being uninvited.” You roll your eyes. 

“Don’t be like that baby.” He’s smiling down at you with those stupid puppy dog eyes. He reaches down to grab your waist but you step back before he can. 

“Don’t touch me!” You say louder than anticipated but no one’s paying attention to you over the loud music. “You broke up with me, remember?” You’re thoroughly pissed off. 

“I know, baby and  I regret it everyday. I want you back y/n. I need you back…” He’s reaching for you again, you step back again. 

“I said don’t touch me..” You don’t yell this time. You need to get away from him. This was supposed to be your night and he’s ruining it. You go to turn around but you’re stopped by a very hard object.

“Is everything okay over here?” A gruff voice asks and you feel two hands grab either side of your arms. “Are you okay?” You look up to see Hugh looking down at you, concern in his eyes. 

“Hugh..” Your voice is weak and breathless. 

“Oh don’t tell me you already moved on?” Pedro lets out, anger lining his words. “What is he, your boyfriend? I wasn’t old enough for you y/n? You had to run and fuck my friend?” His voice grows louder and louder but miraculously no one seems to notice the commotion. 

“He’s not my boyfriend…” You mumble, too embarrassed by the situation. 

“What’s it to you? Huh? Why don’t you mind your business and leave.” Hugh’s voice matches Pedro’s energy effortlessly. He lets go of your arms and instead points an angry finger at Pedro. 

“You know what, I don't need this and I don’t need you.” Pedro says looking into your eyes with a malicious stare. “Good luck with her, she’s nothing but a good fuck and trouble.” He’s walking away before either of you could answer. You felt Hugh go to move towards the directions Pedro went but you stop him by putting your hand on his chest. 

“Don’t…” You whisper and you weren’t sure if he could hear you over the music. Tears were starting to pool at the bottom of your eyes, threatening to escape. 

“Are you okay y/n?” Hugh asks and that’s all it takes before you let out a soft sob. He puts his hand under your chin and is lifting your head. “Let's get you out of here, is that okay?” All you can do is nod. You grab his hand and walk towards the hallway that leads to the room you got ready in. You open the door and make your way to the couch that sits along the wall. Hugh follows behind, closing the door and takes a seat close to you but not too close. He doesn’t say anything, what could he say?

“I’m sorry.” You let out, tears still falling. You pull your knees up, trying to hide the tears from Hugh, even if he already knew they were there. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.” He cautiously places a hand on your back and rubs it in soft circles, soothing you. You untuck your head for a moment. 

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.” You frown at him. 

“What he did is not your fault. Okay?” You can’t find the energy to answer him right away, not sure if you truly believe his words, but you nod anyway. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come.” Sadness fills your voice.

“What? Why not?” He asks confusingly. 

“Everyone is going to think what Pedro thought, that you’re my boyfriend. We shouldn’t be seen together. It won’t be good for you.” 

“Hey, don’t think like that sweetheart. Whatever we are is our business, nobody else's. I want to be seen with you, I'm here to support you. I don’t care what people have to say. I’m not him.” His hand stopped moving around your back, eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

I’m not him

You don’t respond but you do feel better about the whole situation. You can hear the fourth song of your album playing and you get hit with another rush of sadness. 

“I should probably go back out there, people will start to wonder where I am.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Let's get you cleaned up. Stay right here.” Hugh stands up and grabs a tissue, wetting it slightly by pouring a few drops of water from a water bottle onto it. He walks over and bends down, sitting on his knees right in front of you. Even at this angle, his head is still resting above yours. Hugh grabs your chin lightly and begins to dab the tissue, wiping your tears away. You can feel the heat from the air leaving his nose hitting your face. It’s comforting in a way.

“There we go, good as new.” He says with a big smile. Your faces are inches away from each other and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him in. 

“Thank you Hugh. For everything.” You return his smile, eyes locked onto his. You took a moment to appreciate his appearance. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a gray, almost silver button up, as if he tried to match with you. 

“Don’t mention it sweetheart” He stands up and offers his hand to you. “Now let’s get the star of the show back out there, yea?” 

You grab his hand and smile. “Do I look okay?” You ask, afraid that your disheveled state might have ruined your hair or outfit somehow. You pull him towards a mirror to check your full appearance, a firm grip still on his hand. It engulfed yours beautifully. 

“You look gorgeous.” You can tell he means it by the look in his eyes and the small smile that sits on his face. You see a flicker of something in his eyes, you don't fully catch it, but before you can think it over, he’s leaning down to leave a soft kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Let’s go.” He says pulling you out of the room and back into the sea of people, never letting go of your hand.

Thank you for reading!!

part four

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley

I think I got everyone who asked to be added on! Please let me know if I missed you or if it didn't work.

If you want to be tagged for this series, please leave a comment on this post

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 3 | spencer reid.

Spencer wanted this date to go perfectly, he wanted to treat you like a princess and maybe even land a second date... but why is Hotch calling?

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 4

cw: fem!reader, kissing, slight angst, fluffy

a/n: kicking my feet fr

You started getting ready two hours earlier than you normally would.

Sure, you had been on dates before, but you could confidently say you’d never been this excited to go on a date before. You’d been on the odd blind date that your friend from back home set up, but they usually went as well as you’d expect a date with a misogynistic frat boy with mommy issues to go… not great. After Spencer had walked you home, and called to ask you out for dinner, you were utterly giddy. 

You barely got any sleep that night, your mind and heart racing a mile a minute thinking about the kiss you shared outside your apartment building. You spent the most of the afternoon picking out an outfit, staring at your body in the mirror while you turned side on, front on, side on again to make sure your ass looked good (it did).

You asked Spencer to tell you where he was taking you, because you really didn’t want to be underdressed or overdressed. He insisted it was nothing fancy but a man’s idea of fancy and a woman’s idea of fancy are very different things.

You picked something that felt like the best of both worlds, a semi-formal mini dress and dressed down with your favourite knitted cardigan. You spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready, styling your hair, picking jewellery and shoes and doing your makeup. 

You had been excited the whole day but as 6pm got closer and closer, you started to get nervous. It had been a while since you’d gone on a date with someone you felt you really liked and wanted to impress, it was a strange feeling.

Spencer knocked on your door at exactly 6pm. You were in the middle of pulling applying your lipgloss when he knocked. You cursed quietly to yourself, thinking you had way more time than you actually did. You’d hoped he’d be at least a little bit late. He was a genius though, punctuality was kind of his thing. 

You almost tripped over your shoes running to the front door, a cleaning task you would tackle when you got home. You pulled the door open with a smile beaming across your face. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Spencer’s precious face peeking over a bouquet of pink tulips.

“Hi,” he said softly with a tight lipped smile. He held the tulips out toward you, “for you.”

“Spencer…” you pouted at the gesture, taking the tulips from his grasp. “They’re so beautiful.”

“Garcia said flowers would make a good impression,” he lied, he actually read a considerable amount of articles and first date guides all day at work. But Garcia did help him pick the flowers.

“Well, she was right. Tulips are my favourite,” you grinned, turning back into your apartment to find and fill a vase. “Come in, I won’t be a minute, I just need to put my shoes on and grab my purse.”

Spencer awkwardly stepped into your apartment, glancing around at the now fully decorated space, a far cry from what it looked like just 3 weeks ago. You quickly went to put your shoes on and put some money, your lipgloss and perfume in your purse. You closed the door to your bedroom and paused, staring at Spencer as he squatted down and rubbed Tofu’s belly.

“Made a new friend?” You asked.

Spencer smiled with utter delight, “She’s so fluffy.”

You giggled at Spencer’s response, grabbing the keys for your apartment off the kitchen counter. Spencer dusted the cat fur off his pants before spinning on his heel to face you, “ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. You stepped closer until you were just in front of him, you reached up and adjusted his tie gently. “You look very handsome.”

His cheeks felt hot, “T-thank you… You-! You look really nice too- beautiful! You look beautiful…” he stammered, exaggeratedly gesturing at your appearance.

You giggled softly, “thank you, Spence… Shall we?”

“Yes, yes, right,” he replied, quickly scurrying to the door to open it for you.

The two of you made your way down to his car and he made a point to run ahead of you when you left your apartment building to open his passenger door for you. He was intensely determined to be a gentleman, wanting to give you a good impression so maybe you’d go on another date with him, maybe even come to Rossi’s dinner party next week. But he was getting ahead of himself, he should probably focus on the road.

“...So where are you taking me?” You asked, glancing out the car window at the city speeding by. 

“It’s one of my favourite places,” he replied, hands nervously gripping the wheel. “I… hope you like it.”

“I’m just happy to spend time with you, Spencer… We could sit on the pavement outside a seven eleven and I’d be thrilled,” you grinned, folding your hands in your lap as you watched him glance at you. You watched him for a moment, chuckling to yourself whenever he would glance down at your lap then clear his throat.

Spencer was really trying to keep his eyes on the road, but your plush thighs in the corner of his eye were proving to be very distracting. He had never had a pretty girl in his passenger seat before, especially not a girl he was taking on a date. 

Spencer drove for maybe 30 minutes before he pulled into a parking lot. Once he parked, he quickly got out of the car and did a little run around the front to open your door for you, reaching to help you out of his car.

Spencer held his elbow out for you and you linked arms, your hand gently holding his upper arm. There was a long line up outside the restaurant, people talking and laughing, clearly it was a popular spot. Spencer was stiff with nervousness, his hands clammy as you leaned your temple against his shoulder.

“You okay?” You questioned gently.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah, just… I’ve never been on a proper date before.”

You pouted, “well don’t be nervous. I’m only here for you, Spence. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

Spencer’s phone suddenly rang in his jacket pocket. You quickly let go of his arm as he pulled it out of his pocket, staring at Hotch’s caller ID. He hesitated for a moment, knowing it was work and he would likely have to leave. Spencer looked at you with such sadness and disappointment in his eyes.

“Work?” You asked softly.

“Yeah… But I-”

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you smiled sadly. “Your job’s important.”

Spencer sighed before stepping away from the line and answering the call. You couldn’t hear what he was saying but he sounded upset given his gestures and frantic running of his hand through his hair. After a minute he hung up, slipping his phone in his pocket. He looked at you sadly, opening his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you held his face softly. “You go, I’ll get a cab, okay? And when you get back you can tell me all about how you kicked ass, okay?”

Spencer breathed out a laugh and nodded timidly, “Okay.”

“Go,” you said, letting go of his face as he quickly darted away to his car. He was almost out of sight when you watched him turn back, running back to you. He quickly planted a kiss on your lips, breathing hard against you. You smiled against his lips and held his cheek in your hand. He pulled away just as fast, your lipgloss smeared along his lips. You wiped it off with your thumb, “okay, now go.”

“I’ll call you,” he breathed, kissing your cheek quickly before running off.

It killed him leaving you there. Spencer wasn’t someone who got angry that easily but he was in a bad mood about this. He charged through the bullpen that night like a bulldozer, ready to set fire to anyone who dared ask him ‘how he was’. Morgan, JJ and Emily sensed the crankiness the moment Spencer pulled his chair out and sat down with a thud, crossing his arms angrily. 

“Rough night, lover boy?” Morgan asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Wasn’t much of a night at all, really,” Spencer retorted with an attitude.

“Woah, woah, what happened?” Emily questioned, eyes narrowing at Spencer.

“I had a date, okay? That girl you met last night? Y/N? I was taking her to my favourite restaurant and then Hotch called and I-” Spencer had to stop himself before he blew up. His lips formed a tight line as he stared at the table, not daring to look up.

“Aw, Spence…” JJ sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help,” Spencer mumbled. He spent the rest of their meeting in a foul mood, barely listening to JJ as she listed the details of their next case. They were never usually called in on their days off but after almost twenty bodies, the BAU had a lot cut out for them.

“We’ll leave in two hours,” Hotch dismissed. Spencer was first up, grabbing the small stack of files and pushing toward the door to go to his desk. Morgan and Emily looked at each other, sharing a look of disbelief over Spencer’s crankiness. 

Spencer sat at his desk pushing his pen around, barely touching the cup of sugar with a splash of coffee that JJ got for him. All he could think about was how you probably wouldn’t talk to him again after this, he knew this job came with sacrifices, but he just wanted one thing, one thing, to himself.

“You okay, Reid?” Penelope asked softly. 

Spencer glanced up at her, letting out a sigh, “I was on a date with Y/N before this… We didn’t even get to sit down.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped at his words, “I’m sure you’ll be able to make it up to her,” she said hopefully. 

Spencer nodded slowly, “I hope so.”

Penelope stepped away to answer a phone call and Spencer was left feeling sorry for himself at his desk for the next 30 minutes, going through his mind the different things he could say or do to make it up to you. Maybe he should call you? Text you? Drop by when he gets back? Or maybe he could buy you another cat as a peace offering-

“Is this seat taken?”

Spencer’s head shot up from his desk, coming face to face with you, your hand resting on the empty chair by his desk.

“Y/N? What are you-”

“I called Penelope,” you answered, “She told me you weren’t leaving for another hour so… I thought I’d bring dinner?”

You held out a plastic bag of take away food from the restaurant he took you to. You asked Penelope what his favourite thing on the menu was and bought some extra for yourself. Spencer looked like a kicked puppy as he stared up at you in disbelief.

He stood up and quickly hugged you, making you chuckle at the sudden affection. You felt your face heat up at all the eyes suddenly on you and Spencer. Morgan whooped from his desk, cheering loudly and obnoxiously, prompting Spencer to pull away from you.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“You don’t have to apologise, Spence,” you replied. “You love your job and it’s important,” you shrugged, placing the plastic bag on his desk.

“God, you’re so sweet it’s killing me,” Emily grumbled, walking by with a fresh cup of coffee. She pointed at Spencer, brows raised, “keep her.”

You and Spencer shared a laugh before he pulled a chair over closer to his for you. You sat down and pulled your takeaway dinner from the plastic bag, letting Spencer tell you all about the restaurant and why this specific meal was his absolute favourite. His knees brushed against yours under his desk and he just revelled in the comfort of your company.

“So, what’s your new case?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“Uh, well,” he trailed off.

“You can’t tell me, huh?” You chuckled.

“Not really, sorry,” he replied. “I’m sure it’ll be on the news tomorrow.”

“Right, well. I’m sure deep down I don’t really wanna know,” you shrugged.

He nodded, “the cases we work aren’t exactly pleasant.” Spencer sighed, “I wish we could have actually had a date.”

“This is a date,” you replied. “Is it not?”

“Well… I mean, it’s just not what I wanted for our first date.”

“Like I said Spence, you could take me to a seven eleven and I’d have a blast,” you chuckled, reaching over to run a thumb across his cheek. “You can make it up to be on our second date.”

Spencer quickly looked at you, “Second date?”

“Yeah… only if you want to?”

“Yes, yeah. I want to,” he replied almost too fast. You smiled sweetly at him, a piece of your hair falling from behind your ear. Oh yeah, he’s done for.

a/n: had you in the first half, didn't i... dare i say you've pierced his heart, HAHAHAH

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r

[solxamber]

This is a funny lil idea I just had but have you ever thought about rook and a reader that acts like his behavior is normal? Like, they know he's literally stalking them but is perfectly fine with it for some strange reason.

And when they finally do start dating, everyone is either

1. Convinced that he’s threatening your life

Or

2. Judging you like crazy because WHY

Totally Normal Romance || Rook Hunt

You've fallen hard for the hunter and you're dating! But when you tell your friends the good news, they immediately try staging interventions. Huh, I wonder why?

thank you for waiting! I loved the idea a lot and it became way longer than I expected but I hope you like it!

You’ve somehow managed to fall into a relationship with Rook, the Academy's resident “Hunter” and renowned tracker of students who can't even attempt to hide without him finding them.

Most people would be a little alarmed—okay, extremely alarmed—by Rook’s knack for showing up whenever you breathe a little too loud. But you? You’re weirdly, unapologetically chill about it.

The day starts as it usually does. Rook is outside your door bright and early, practically sparkling, ready to report how many steps you took in your sleep, how many breaths you exhaled, and what percentage of your dreams contained images of his dashing silhouette.

You nod, acting like he’s merely sharing the weather, and go about your morning. People are whispering in the hallways; they’ve noticed that the school’s “greatest hunter” is now your personal shadow.

Some think you're being held hostage in an unholy union. Others are convinced you’ve cracked under the pressure of Rook’s endless poetic monologues and have, in fact, lost your mind.

When the two of you officially start dating, the rumors take a delightful nosedive into the surreal. Rook is, naturally, over the moon, reciting sonnets about your “captivating acceptance of his pursuit.” Friends beg you to “see the red flags.”

You just smile as Rook emerges from behind a tree on your morning jog to hand you a flower he found “radiant with the essence of your aura.”

Intervention Attempt 1: Adeuce

You’re just sitting down to lunch when Ace and Deuce suddenly approach you with identical expressions of horror and determination, like they’ve somehow stumbled into a horror movie and taken it upon themselves to rescue the clueless protagonist. Ace, as usual, decides to take the lead.

“We need to talk. About... him.” He jerks a thumb toward Rook, who’s lurking—quite visibly—behind a tree, watching you with a delighted grin as if the entire world is his favorite reality TV show.

You shrug. “Rook’s just being his usual sweet self.”

Deuce’s mouth falls open. “That’s... sweet? The dude’s literally hiding in a tree to stare at you.”

You wave a hand. “He’s just thoughtful, you know? He knew I needed a pick-me-up yesterday, so he waited in my closet for two hours just to surprise me with a motivational haiku.”

Ace’s expression is somewhere between pity and disbelief. “You’re serious? That’s... sweet?”

“Uh-huh.” You pop a fry in your mouth, unfazed. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice to have someone that dedicated.”

Ace and Deuce share a silent, horrified look, one that clearly says, Our friend has lost it. Then, Ace leans in close. “You know, if he’s threatening you, you can blink twice or something. We can handle him.”

You burst into laughter, almost choking on your fry. “Guys, come on! Rook’s harmless. It’s just his way of showing affection.”

Behind the tree, Rook notices you laughing and beams even wider, waving with both hands like you’re his entire world. Ace sighs, looking like he’s just signed up for an impossible mission. Deuce’s brows knit together in concern, like he’s mentally preparing himself to guard you from the “danger” Rook apparently presents.

Intervention Attempt 2: Leona

Leona lounges on the couch as you walk into the room, looking way too relaxed—except for the sharp glint in his eye as he watches you. You know that look; it’s the we need to talk look, though Leona would sooner eat his tail than say it outright.

“You know that guy who keeps creeping around you?” he starts, his tone casual, as if he’s talking about the weather. “The hunter dude?”

“Oh, Rook? Yeah, he’s great!” you reply with a smile, clearly missing his hint.

Leona raises an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “Great? The guy basically tracks your every move like a lion on a hunt. He’s probably memorized your breathing patterns by now.”

You laugh it off, waving a hand. “Leona, you make it sound creepy. Rook’s just… committed.”

Leona smirks, leaning back with a lazy yawn. “Committed to what, stalking you?”

You shrug. “It’s romantic in its own way! He writes poetry about me, makes sure I’m always safe... It’s kinda nice knowing someone’s always watching out for me.”

“Watching out for you,” Leona mutters, barely concealing a snicker. “Sure. Or just watching you.” He tilts his head, examining you as if you’re some rare species that’s suddenly shown up in the savanna. “You sure he hasn’t put a spell on you? You sound completely out of it.”

You smirk. “Leona, you’re just not used to people showing appreciation.”

Leona narrows his eyes, amusement flickering in his gaze. “You keep saying stuff like that, herbivore, and I’m gonna assume you’ve completely lost it.” He yawns and flops back onto the couch, muttering under his breath, “That crazy hunter and his weird haikus…”

You walk away, oblivious, and Leona just shakes his head with a smirk, quietly wondering if he’ll end up having to pry Rook off of you someday.

Intervention Attempt 3: Riddle

Riddle stares at you over his teacup, his brows knit with concern as you talk about your latest “date” with Rook. You've barely started describing his newest poetic declaration when Riddle sets his cup down, looking thoroughly alarmed.

“I… don’t understand,” he interrupts. “Did you say he was waiting in the shadows outside your dorm window at midnight? And he… recited sonnets?”

You nod, completely unbothered. “Oh, yes! And he was so sweet about it. He even had a rose between his teeth, Riddle. He really went all out.”

Riddle’s expression looks like he’s been hit with cold water. “And you… didn’t feel unsafe?”

“Why would I?” you laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s Rook. He’s just being his passionate self.”

Riddle’s face hardens, and he stands up, clutching his teacup with barely contained fury. “This is unacceptable! You must report this immediately—stalking is a severe issue! You don’t have to tolerate this treatment, no matter how he frames it!”

You blink, surprised. “Riddle, it’s really okay. He’s not stalking me; he’s just… really attentive.”

Riddle’s lips thin, and he looks at you with pity, as if you're just too naive to understand the danger you’re in. “It’s worse than I thought,” he mutters, eyes blazing. “He’s… he’s manipulating you into thinking this is acceptable!”

Riddle finally sighs, shaking his head. “If you’re too afraid to tell him off, I’ll do it for you. As a dorm leader, it’s my duty to protect students in my care.”

“Riddle, I appreciate it, but I don’t need protection,” you insist, patting him on the shoulder. “Rook is harmless.”

Riddle huffs, looking like he’s already planning out the verbal lashing he’s going to deliver to Rook the next time he sees him. “You’ll see,” he says. “When you realize the danger, remember I warned you.”

You just smile, and he glances at you like you’re a sheep walking happily into a lion’s den.

Intervention Attempt 4: Malleus (And Lilia?)

When Malleus summons you to Diasomnia for what he calls an “urgent matter,” you’re intrigued. However, when you arrive, his expression is downright grave. The flickering candlelight gives his face an eerie glow as he looks at you, his usually calm demeanor laced with worry.

He leans in close, and his eyes narrow. “I understand you… spend much time with Rook,” he says, voice almost a whisper.

“Uh, yeah? We’re dating,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Malleus blinks, clearly taken aback, as if he was expecting an entirely different answer. “So you willingly… permit him to lurk in the shadows around you?”

“Well, yes, he’s got that whole poetic ‘silent protector’ thing going on.” You shrug, but Malleus doesn’t look any less alarmed.

“I see,” Malleus says, more to himself than to you. “So he’s already gained control over you.” He sighs, looking deeply concerned. “Fear not. I will protect you from him.”

Before you can respond, Lilia, who’s been silently watching with a smirk, bursts into laughter.

“Oh, Malleus, you’re taking this far too seriously,” he cackles, clapping a hand on Malleus’s shoulder. “Rook isn’t dangerous—well, unless you count bad poetry as a weapon.”

Malleus doesn’t look convinced. “You find this funny?” he asks, frowning.

“Of course I do!” Lilia grins, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. “They’re dating, Malleus. Rook doesn’t even know how to scare a fly when it comes to them.”

Malleus turns back to you, still worried. “Are you… certain you’re safe?”

You nod, but the look of pity in his eyes says he’s clearly unconvinced, as if he thinks you’re only defending Rook out of fear. Meanwhile, Lilia gives you a wink and a mischievous grin, enjoying the absurdity of the whole situation.

Intervention Attempt 5: Azul

You’re strolling past the Mostro Lounge, hoping to grab some food, when Azul intercepts you, looking unusually serious. He gestures for you to follow him into a private corner, glancing around as if he's worried someone might overhear.

“I understand you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Rook,” he says, his tone grave, though there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s already calculating something.

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, we’re dating.”

Azul’s expression shifts to something between shock and pity, as if he’s just heard you’ve taken up with the Grim Reaper himself. “Dating? So… you’re aware he’s stalking you?”

You shrug. “He’s not stalking—he’s just keeping an eye out. Very vigilant, actually.”

Azul’s face darkens. “Right… vigilant.” He clears his throat. “In that case, allow me to offer the services of Floyd and Jade for your… protection.”

You blink. “Protection?”

“Yes. For a reasonable price, of course,” he says with a smooth smile, back to his usual self. “Consider it a sort of… insurance in case this arrangement with Rook takes a… dramatic turn.”

He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Imagine if you had two skilled guards who could tail him as closely as he tails you.”

Before you can respond, Floyd appears out of nowhere, draping an arm over your shoulder and grinning. “We could totally scare him, too. Make him feel like he’s the one being hunted!”

Jade nods from behind him, his smile too sharp to be comforting. “Yes, we’re more than happy to shadow Rook if you’d like.”

You stare at the twins, whose predatory smiles seem to stretch further the longer they look at you. “Guys, I appreciate the offer, but Rook’s fine. I’m not being held captive.”

Azul raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t push, instead sighing in that dramatic way of his. “Very well. The offer stands should you need it. Just remember: one word, and we’re at your service.”

As you walk away, you catch a quiet exchange between the twins.

“Do you think we’d even get the chance to tail him, Jade?”

“Hmm… I’d say it’s more likely he’d follow us, Floyd.”

You shake your head, amused. Only Azul would find a way to capitalize on your love life.

Intervention(?) Attempt 6: Vil

You’re backstage in Pomefiore, helping Vil with his costume adjustments for his latest role when he pauses, hands on his hips, giving you a long, evaluative look.

“So… you and Rook?” he finally says, an eyebrow raised with an almost resigned air.

“Yeah.” You grin, shrugging. “I mean, he’s… intense, but it works.”

Vil sighs, pressing two fingers to his temple as if that would ward off the headache he’s certain to get from this conversation. “You realize that most people would find his behavior concerning, right?”

You wave him off. “He’s harmless. Just… expressive.”

He gives a soft, humorless laugh, as though he’s not sure if you’re just that naive or that confident. “You’re both completely mad, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you say, leaning back with a shrug. “But I like it that way.”

Vil sighs again, and there’s a glimmer of a smile, even if it’s hidden behind a look of sheer exasperation. “Well, at least he won’t make you look bad. He’ll be too busy swooning in the background to do anything truly reckless.” He adjusts your collar with an air of finality, giving you a nod. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

And with that, he returns to his preparations, mumbling something under his breath about how only you could take Rook’s intensity as a “feature” rather than a “warning sign.” But you catch the faint smile on his face as he walks away, leaving you feeling oddly reassured.

Final Intervention: Idia

Idia’s “intervention” is the sort of spectacle that would probably have your other friends dial emergency numbers if they walked in. He's got his laptop perched on a stack of comics, his tablet propped up, and an honest-to-Seven laser pointer he’s brandishing like it’s going to physically ward off any poor life choices.

He points at his first diagram, titled in neon-green font: "Why Your Boyfriend Should Not Be Tracking Your Every Move Like a Supervillain”. It's complete with cartoonish red arrows and diagrams that could pass for an undergrad thesis on questionable behavior.

Rook’s sitting beside you, nodding along with a strangely approving look, as if Idia's crude drawings are just part of the "unrefined genius" he'd expect from mere mortals.

When Idia clicks to his next slide—a very intense pie chart on “Reasons You’re Definitely in Danger"—you shrug. “Look, Idia, everyone’s got their quirks, right? He leaves poetry scrolls for me; you send messages only through encrypted text channels with six layers of memes as the header.”

Idia stares at you, blinking, and drops his laser pointer. It rolls pathetically across the floor, and he looks like he’s two seconds away from fainting. “Th-This isn’t the same! I don’t leave my IP address in your flowerbeds!”

Rook, thrilled, interjects. “Ah, but would you not feel a poetic stirring in your heart if you did, monsieur? Every new line I compose is a love letter to the chase!”

Idia sways. You’re genuinely worried he might black out.

Life, as it turns out, continues with a healthy dose of Rook’s “love language,” which to everyone else looks like the dictionary definition of a security risk.

Yet, you find yourself smiling every time he swoops in with that glittering look in his eyes, poetry scrolls under his arm and a thousand strange ideas.

And even if everyone around you is either looking into exorcisms or planning escape routes, for you, it’s just another day of living your best life.

Masterlist

[blackenedsnow]

Heyy, if you’re comfortable doing so could I please get some Beetlejuice x fem!reader who’s a single mom? Just pretty much him being soft and comforting letting her know she’s doing a good job etc? Thank you in advance 💕💕💕 can be a proper fic or headcanons I’ll let you decide xx

beyond it

WARNING: References to the stress of single motherhood

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Single Mother! Reader

NOTE: I absolutely loved writing this!! I hope you enjoy this, and thank you so much for the request 💕💕

SUMMARY: Beetlejuice surprises you by being a source of comfort, helping you see that you’re doing better than you give yourself credit for.

It was late—too late for you to still be up. But as a single mom, you didn’t have the luxury of falling into bed as soon as the day ended. No, there were dishes to clean, laundry to fold, and tomorrow to worry about. And of course, your child had woken up twice already, needing reassurance from a nightmare.

You were running on fumes, slumped on the couch, your face buried in your hands. It felt like all you ever did was work. Just when you thought you could finally close your eyes and sleep, your thoughts picked up again—worrying about what needed to be done tomorrow, whether you were doing enough, whether your child was okay.

“Hey, dollface, rough night?”

This fucking guy.

That voice—raspy, familiar—cut through the fog of exhaustion like nails on a chalkboard. Beetlejuice. You didn’t bother looking up. He was probably lounging in his usual spot, perched on the armrest of your couch with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

"Go away, BJ," you muttered half-heartedly. "Not tonight."

The ghoul groaned dramatically. "Aw, come on! And here I thought we were past the whole 'piss off, Beej' stage of our relationship." You felt a cold presence next to you, then his hand—decaying yet surprisingly gentle—lightly brushed your shoulder. "I mean, after all the times I’ve stuck around, don’t I get any appreciation?"

You exhaled sharply, finally lifting your head. "Appreciation? For what, exactly?"

"For being a goddamn delight, babes!" Beetlejuice beamed, leaning back against the couch and spreading his arms wide. "For hanging around when no one else does. Gotta say, not a lot of folks could handle a single mom with your level of stress."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the tiny smile tugging at your lips. "If by 'hanging around,' you mean constantly being a nuisance, then yeah, sure."

Beetlejuice chuckled, his voice rough yet oddly soothing. His eyes, usually wild and manic, softened just a bit as they focused on you. “Ah, you love it. Don’t lie, babe.”

You shook your head, sinking deeper into the couch. "I’m just… tired, Beej. I'm really tired."

For once, he didn’t launch into another sarcastic quip. Instead, Beetlejuice shifted closer, his body language relaxed but attentive. “Yeah, I know. I can see it. You’ve been runnin' yourself ragged for, what, weeks? Months?”

Your eyes welled up, but you quickly blinked the tears away. “I just… I feel like I’m not doing enough. There’s always something I’m missing, something I should be doing better.”

Beetlejuice’s hand rested fully on your shoulder now, his touch surprisingly solid. "Oh, come on, you're killing it out here, babe. You think your kid’s got it bad? They've got you. And lemme tell ya, you’re doing a hell of a job. Better than most."

You glanced over at him, surprised by his sincerity. "Really? You think so?"

“Are you kidding? Babe, I see it. I see you juggling work, taking care of the kid, making sure they're happy. And yeah, it’s messy and chaotic, but guess what? They're fine. They're happy, ‘cause you’re busting your ass for 'em.” He leaned in a little closer, his expression for once free of mischief. “You’re doin' more than enough."

His words hit you hard, in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t know why, but hearing it from Beetlejuice—someone who you never thought would care about anything—meant something. It eased the tight knot that had been sitting in your chest all day.

“I just don’t want to mess them up,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “They deserve better than… than this.”

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, sweetheart." Beetlejuice’s voice softened. He slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “They've got you, and that’s more than enough. You’re not perfect—who the hell is?—but you're trying. And that's what matters. Trust me, when they grow up, they're gonna see that.”

You allowed yourself to lean into him, resting your head against his chest. His suit smelled like a mix of dirt and decay, but there was something oddly comforting about the way he held you, like he was actually trying to be there for you, to support you in his own weird way.

“Hey, tell you what,” he said, his voice low. “Next time you feel like crap, I’ll stick around. We’ll cause some shit together, huh? Might help take the edge off.”

You chuckled softly, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

Beetlejuice grinned, but it wasn’t the mischievous, cocky smirk you were used to. It was softer, almost tender. “You’re doin' good, doll. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise.”

You looked up at him, and for the first time since he’d shown up in your life, you realized how much you appreciated him. Not just as the obnoxious ghost who wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, but as someone who—despite his crude humor and questionable ethics—actually cared. Maybe not in the typical way, but in a way that mattered.

"Thanks, Beej," you whispered, closing your eyes as you let the exhaustion finally catch up to you. "I mean it."

Beetlejuice stayed quiet for a moment, just holding you close. "Anytime, babe. Anytime."

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Loving Arms (4)

Summary: The children of Viserys I from his wife Alicent Hightower had always been lacking in affection from their parents. They simply didn't realize how much until their widowed aunt was brought into their lives. (AU where Alicent has an older sister and her kids get the love that they deserve, takes place some time after the Driftmark event)

Part IV: Changes must be made

|| Loving Arms Masterlist ||

A/N: There were so many ways that I wanted this chapter to go, but I think this was as good as I was going to get it. Please leave a comment and let me know what y'all thought. 😊

BTW: I have tagged everyone that asked, but some weren't working for some reason

For quite some time, Aegon was used to being harshly woken in the morning and dragged to different lessons or things that he absolutely despised attending because it was the expectation. Curtains would be pulled open quickly, further bothering his morning as light would seep into his eyes and making his head pound with pulsing pain from drinking quite a bit the night before.

His mother, grandfather, or perhaps the septa would harshly pull him from his bed, tell him off for his previous behavior and that he was shaming not just himself, but his family by his actions. It was all things that he had heard and experienced more times than he could count.

A routine that he had lived for so many years that he had lost track at what point did it begin.

So it was certainly a complete shock to wake up slowly one morning, the soft feeling of someone playing with his hair was what had stirred his sleep addled mind. His room was still fairly dark, the curtains had not been drawn and there were no servants or other attendants milling about his room. His bleary eyes slowly focused in to see that his lovely muña was the only one in the room.

"Did you sleep well, sweet boy?" she asked softly while combing her fingers through his hair. "I figured that we might try a different way of going about your morning since I heard that you imbibed quite a bit."

She sat on the edge of his bed and had such a tender look of affection as she stared at him that it overwhelmed Aegon to see it. Instead of answering, he hid his face in her skirts and gripped the fabric of her dress between his hands. Kneading the material in his hands and whimpering softly.

There was no reproach from his sweet muña and she shushed him softly, petting his tangled locks.

"Oh Aegon," she whispered. "I am sure that your head hurts, but we must start the day. There is quite a bit that must be done."

He snuggled into her lap and peeked an eye to look at her, "Must I?"

She laughed gently, "Yes, you must."

She turned to the side table by his bed and carefully picked up the teapot that was placed there by the servants to pour some tea into his teacup. "Here, sit up a little."

Begrudgingly Aegon sat up against the headboard of his bed and pushed back his hair away from his face, rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion.

"I made sure to add a bit of honey to your tea this time," she smiled. "I thought a bit of sweetness would be a nice way to start the day before we break fast."

"Thank you," he whispered. He took his light purple teacup with gentle care and blew softly on the steaming liquid, humming in delight when he managed a small sip. "It tastes better, thank you muña."

"You are welcome," she said as she picked up her own teacup and drank her tea silently beside him.

It was quiet.

Aegon wasn't used to soft mornings like this one.

To hear the distant clatter of life outside the walls of the Keep.

The gentle birdsong as they also greeted a new day.

The quiet hums of his muña, whose smile hadn't left despite the fact that he wasn't even ready for his lessons.

Even with his hesitance to become too comfortable, Aegon hoped that he could more mornings like this one.

"Muña?" he called out softly. "It is not that I don't appreciate this change of pace, but what stirred all of this?"

"I heard amongst the grapevine that your mornings were quite the chaotic events" she said gently. "That it was quite the spectacle to be present when the eldest prince was put in his place or so I had heard."

His face burned in shame and he looked at the dregs left at the bottom of his cup. Because even though he appeared aloof and uncaring to others, it was humiliating to go through it.

He just didn't know how to change what he was doing, when every day felt like a burden.

When his limbs felt like lead, his head would hurt from all the letters that would swim on the page, and as if his heart would pound out of his chest as nothing that his tutors said made any sense to him.

"It seemed to me," she said quietly and carefully lifted his chin to look her in the eye. "It seemed that everyone around you had failed to help you. Or was I mistaken?"

Tears pooled in his lavender eyes and shook his head, swallowing the lump that was stuck in his throat.

"I know there will be quite a bit of backlash, but I have relieved all of your current tutors from service and have sent word to a few that we will see if they fare any better" she said. "Would that be alright with you? Trying things a little differently?"

He quickly but carefully set his teacup beside him, practically leaping into her lap and wrapped his arms around her tightly. His sobs wracked his body and made it difficult to speak.

"H - how? H - how is it that y - you can s - see ME?!" he cried. "H - how? When my own m -mother cannot?"

She only held him tighter and rubbed his back softly, "Because I know what it is like to go through life never being seen by those we cry out to the most."

He could only cry.

And she held him in her arms for quite some time, letting him cry even when his nose ran and stained her dress. It took a long time until his breaths merely shuddered as the last of his tears dried and he let himself be held.

Slowly he sat up and wiped at his nose, "I think that I would like a bath now."

"I will have someone come up and draw the water for you," she said wiping his stray tears away. "I have someone that I need to speak with soon, go and look for your siblings. Spend some time together, I have made the arrangements so that you are not interrupted."

With that she leisurely stood up and brushed her skirts from any wrinkles. He sat back on his bed and watched her.

"Where will you be going, muña? May we come along?"

"No Aegon, it is probably best that you and your siblings not come with me today. I do not think it would be appropriate for you all to witness me stir up more trouble than is necessary."

"Trouble?" he tilted his head confused.

"Heaps of trouble and hopefully I will not need any help getting out of it" she laughed. "But knowing my big mouth, there will be times that I cross the line."

"I don't know if I like where this will go" he said. "Please take care, muña."

"I will do my best, Aegon" she said. "But do not worry and I will be back as soon as I am able."

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

"My lady, I must tell you once again that the King does not wish to have any visitors at this time," the guard said with his gaze forward.

"And I will tell YOU again Ser, that if you do not tell the King that I wish to speak to him about an urgent matter, that you are stripped of your post and tongue" she smiled.

The guard trembled in his place but remained firm in keeping his gaze forward.

"My lady, please -"

"What seems to be going on here?"

Their gazes darted to King Viserys standing by his partially opened door, he looked between them expectantly.

"Good brother, how lovely to see you" she said with a saccharine smile. "I was telling this kind ser that I needed a word with you, but it seems that you were preocuppied."

"Nonsense, I have time to speak with my good sister. Come in (Y/N), don't dawdle by the door."

Walking by the guard, she curtsied sarcastically and followed Viserys into the room, only to stand by the door itself as her gaze looked over the massively detailed city that he was constructing.

"This is.... quite the project that you have here, Viserys."

"I have been making it for a long time, I would hope that it looks impressive for all the effort that I put into it" he chuckled, while working on another portion of the city. "But tell me, what brought you here that needed you to threaten that poor young man?"

"I will be blunt Viserys, were you in a drunken stupor when you agreed that Aegon and Halaena should be married? This kingdom follows the faith of the Seven and despite the brutish ways of your ancestors, they should not be married."

His expression hardened and he stopped what he was doing.

"Your Father and Alicent made quite a few points and I saw no harm in them," he said. "If you have any qualms bring it up to either of them."

"But you are King," she stated. "A decision like this cannot be made without your say, so yes there is a few things that you could do to make sure that this marriage doesn't happen."

"We must all do things that are our duty even if we are not fond of them, I am sure that with time they will find it agreeable" he waved it off.

"And you are the speaker of such things?" she scoffed. "Here you hide away from your own children and wife, it is hypocritical to say that they will one day find it agreeable when you can't stand to be in their presence."

"That isn't true!"

"Then explain it to me Viserys! You say that we must all do things that we are not fond of and because of duty, but those children are suffering because of it!" she yelled. "You wanted an heir! Now you have plenty and cannot even spare them a moment of your time or care!"

"My children want for nothing! They are princes and princess of this realm, they have never gone hungry and more things than they could ever want!" he argued. "In time they will learn to grin and bear it, because there are others that would love to be in their place!"

"With parents like theirs, it is punishment enough!"

"Silence! You have said enough!"

"No Viserys, I haven't!" she rushed forward and stood toe to toe with the man. "If I must forfeit my life here, I will do all in my power to ensure that those children have someone fight on their behalf!"

Viserys was practically shaking in anger, but her eyes had a look in them that made the man turn away. "See yourself out, (Y/N)."

"No."

He looked at her in disbelief, "No?"

"No" she echoed. "Until you concede, I will not."

"I am King, I could have you thrown in a cell for this insolence!"

"All I see is a weak man, there is no King here."

It was unnerving how she stared at him, Viserys was used to grown men trembling at his word and groveling for forgiveness at his feet. People pleading that he would find mercy in his heart for them and not following through with his threats.

Yet his good sister refused to back down

His legs shook as he sat down and tried to keep his gaze on her.

"What would you have me do? I have already agreed."

"Allow me to find good matches for the children and that I may have say in what must be done for them" she said simply.

"That is asking for too much, (Y/N)."

"Oh it is merely the start, Viserys."

"What else is there?" he asked.

"We will have many more things to discuss," she smiled. "I hope you are comfortable because changes must be made."

[r2d2lover]

Healing Touch Part 2

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader (QuidditchPlayer!Mattheo x Healer!Reader)

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, vaginal sex, F/M, cunnilingus, aged-up characters, Hogwarts Uni AU, fluff, like maybe angst

Summary:

Mattheo Riddle comes back for a check up and an answer. (AKA happy smutty October). Part 1.

“Mr. Riddle is back. He’s set up in the same bed as last night and only asking for you. Something about his arm not being set right. I thought I taught you better than that,” Madam Pomfrey scolded you the second you walked through the door to report for your shift. 

“Oh! Okay, I will check on him immediately,” You nearly dropped your items at the matron’s disapproval and hurry to set your things aside. You knew Mattheo said that he would be back the next day, but a part of you hoped that he had forgotten. You needed to buy more time to process what had happened between the two of you, so you had foolishly dodged him around the corridors and snuck food out of the dining hall just so he wouldn’t have an opportunity to corner you. You were surprised that he played you at your own game and decided to corner himself instead. You held your breath while you walked to the back of the infirmary while Madam Pomfrey gave you another look before disappearing into her office. With an embarrassingly shaky hand, you pulled back the curtains around Mattheo’s bed and revealed a smirk that drove a heat deep into your core. Mattheo leaned back in the bed, propped up with pillows with both of his arms folded behind his head. His expression didn’t change when he saw you; if anything, he seemed to grow more amused at the scowl etched into your face.

“I have a feeling you’ve been avoiding me,” Mattheo kicked his legs up on the bed with a big grin. “Now, do you want me to take my pants off or would you like the honors?”

“You can keep your pants on, thank you very much,” You sighed, turning away quickly so that Mattheo wouldn’t catch your reddened cheeks or creeping smile. You placed a temperature gauge into his mouth, which he opened up with a wink. You shook your head while rolling your eyes and a humored scoff, but still you brushed the back of your hand over his forehead and cheeks to feel for any clamminess. “I was told it was your arm that needed looking at.”

“Oh, I just had to say something that sounded serious enough for Pomfrey to let me wait on you,” Mattheo shrugged nonchalantly. “Your work is impeccable. I recovered fine after a good sleep and believe me, I slept really well after last night.”

“Your little stunt could put me on probation with Madam Pomfrey,” You frowned to fight your smile. You pulled out a fresh roll of bandages which delighted Mattheo greatly. He hooked his thumb through his belt loop and shook it in invitation. “And, by the way, I have not been avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Then maybe I was wrong. You don’t really seem the type to run and hide. You’re really bad at it, by the way,” Mattheo mocked. You bit down on your lip to save your pride while you started to undo Mattheo’s belt to get to his thigh. “Though, I will admit, I’m loving this new bashful side of you.”

“I’m not bashful, I’m just doing my job.”

“Are you really going to tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself last night? C’mon, you’re wounding my pride and I think there’s only one type of medicine that can fix it,” Mattheo watched you carefully as you slid his pants down. The memory of last night flooded your rationality and your mouth ran dry. Mattheo chuckled and assisted you in sliding his pants down further. You smiled upon inspection of your work, which was wrapped tightly enough that no extra bleeding seeped through. “Now you’re just a tease. Smiling at me with me exposed like this? Now’s not the time to act so innocent.”

“I told you it was a one time thing, Mattheo. If you need something for your pride, I’m sure you have a line of groupies who would gladly medicate you,” The moment you pressed the cold bandage shears against his leg, you could feel his entire body shiver, which in turn made you copy his movements. 

“Sure, but none of them are as cute as you. Or so adept with their fingers,” Mattheo let out a sigh of relief when you cut the bandage free, revealing a well healed scar thanks to magic. 

“Good news is that you don’t need another bandage. Your leg healed overnight,” You ignored Matteo’s joke and gave his leg a once over with the same salve from last night. He grabbed your wrist as a way to grab your attention. 

“Hey,” Mattheo’s eyes bore into yours. His gaze was much more serious than before and it made your skin erupt in goosebumps again. “I told you last night: This isn’t a joke. But if you want me to stop, I will.”

“I’m saving my own pride. You can’t blame me for questioning your intentions,” You reply, forcing the words past the stop in your throat. “Last night was fun, but that’s not really what I’m about.”

“This isn’t a one off thing for me, princess. I know that’s what you think of me, but you’ve patched me up more than once and you… you actually see me for who I am. Not my last name, not my jersey number, you know…” Mattheo ran a finger across your cheek before letting out a heavy sigh. You froze in place and let your mouth hang open while you tried to figure out a response. Is he serious? It’s all just a cliche. “Merlin… Did I misread this whole thing? Was your conversation just… good bedside manner? Please, just say something.”

“Mattheo- I… No, I do have feelings for you! I just- I…” You finally manage to spit something out in your flustered state. Your confession stuns the both of you into silence. Mattheo's eyes widened, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your face. He opened his mouth but shut it quickly, but your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears that you wouldn’t have been able to hear a thing anyway.

“You do?” Mattheo croaked in disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m not great with feelings and such,” You laugh awkwardly. Mattheo shook his head and smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You reached out and gently caressed the creases. He reached out in reply and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on your skin.

"I'm not great with them either," Mattheo admitted, his voice low and intimate. "But I know how I feel about you. I've known for a while now."

"I thought... I thought you just saw me as the team healer," You whispered, hardly daring to believe this was real. Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You searched his face, looking for any sign of deception, but all you saw was sincerity and warmth. Mattheo chuckled, shaking his head again.

"At first, maybe. But you're so much more than that. You're brilliant, kind, and you challenge me in ways no one else does. I can't stop thinking about you. In the infirmary… out of the infirmary," Mattheo’s voice deepened and he snaked his hand towards the back of your head. Your breath caught in your throat as Mattheo's fingers tangled in your hair. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into him, drawn by an invisible force. His eyes flickered to your lips and despite the two of you having seen each other naked, you never felt more vulnerable. "Merlin…May I...?"

You nodded, unable to form words. Mattheo closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was gentle at first, a mere brush of lips, but it quickly deepened as years of pent-up emotions poured out. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You smiled slightly, an odd sense of pride bubbling at making the mighty Quidditch player nervous under your touch. Realizing where you were and on the clock no less, you had to pull away. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Mattheo rested his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

“We actually can’t have sex in here again,” You scolded playfully. Mattheo stopped you before you could fully step away, his arm strong against your waist. “Madam Pomfrey isn’t too thrilled with me, remember?”

“Mmm, you’re no fun. Fine, I’ll restrain myself for now. Meet me in my dorm after dinner,” Mattheo let a brazen hand travel down to your ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

“What a romantic request,” You joked, pulling him off the bed. “Tell my boss I didn’t mess you up on your way out.”

“Will do, princess,” Mattheo spun you around for one final kiss. “And it wasn’t a request. It was a demand.”

Mattheo wasted no time in dragging you into his room after dinner ended. You barely had time to finish your meal before he marched over, made up some lie about needing your assistance with something, and pulled you out of the Great Hall with his arm protectively - no, possessively - slung across your waist. You laughed at the whispers and jealous looks thrown at the two of you, but let the man practically carry you out.

The moment the door to Mattheo's room closed behind you, he wasted no time in pressing you against it, his lips crashing onto yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. Your hands tangled in his curls as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless.

"I've been waiting for this all day," Mattheo hummed against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. You shivered, arching into him.

"Impatient, are we?" You teased, but your words were cut short by a gasp as he sucked on your pulse point.

"You have no idea," Mattheo murmured, his hands roaming your body with an urgency that matched his kisses. He slipped a feverishly warm hand up your shirt and began pulling the blouse apart with so much strength that you were worried the buttons would pop. "Do you know how hard it was to focus on Quidditch practice when all I could think about was you? I thought about falling off my broom just so you could come patch me up again."

“That’s pretty dark. You don’t have to go to such measures just for my attention,” You smirked, fumbling for his belt. You dragged a hand over the building tension of his pants, causing him to groan.

“Lose the attitude or I’ll lose it for you,” Mattheo warned, raking his fingers down your body. He stopped at your breast, tugging the perched bud to make you moan, then moved down to the thin fabric of your underwear. Your breath hitched as Mattheo's fingers danced along the edge of your underwear, teasing but not quite touching where you desperately wanted him. He slowly slid a finger between you and the fabric and grinned. “So wet for me already. Does being a brat turn you on?”

You could only moan in response and squirmed against the door, trying to create more friction, but he held you firmly in place with his other hand. His finger traced lazy circles, deliberately ignoring your clit that practically pulsed with desire.

"Answer me," Mattheo demanded, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, I do. But I’ll be good! I’ll be so good…" You whined, your hips bucking involuntarily. "Please, Mattheo."

"That's more like it. I love it when you beg," Mattheo chuckled darkly, finally slipping a finger inside you. Your head fell into his chest with a gasp as he began working his finger. With the little composure you had left, you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of him with frenzied greed. You could see the fabric of his shirt bunch up as you frantically unbuttoned it, revealing the toned muscles beneath. Thank you, Quidditch. 

You started placing kisses on his neck, eager to move your mouth down to his chest. You could taste the bitterness of his cologne, but the warm taste of his skin took over your senses. As your lips moved down his neck, you could hear Mattheo's breathing growing heavier and more ragged. He hastily tangled his hands in your hair and pulled it back up to press it against the door. 

“Get on the bed,” Mattheo growled, tearing himself off of you. You obeyed and shed yourself of the rest of your clothes before lying back on his unmade bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch Mattheo to work on your poor attempt at undoing his belt. Mattheo's own fingers fumbled with the buckle, his usual dexterity hindered by his burning desire. You couldn't help but smirk at his struggle, a small act of defiance even as you lay exposed before him. Finally, he managed to undo his belt and pants, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. He was a sign of divinity proven in a full view of his carved muscles and dark briefs. You licked your lips, practically drooling at the sight. 

Mattheo climbed on top of you for a quick kiss of desperation while his hand returned to your breast. He massaged the soft flesh, flexing his fingers deep into the mound. His lips quickly moved down to the rest of your body, stopping like his hand did on your breast earlier and taking your nipple in between his teeth. You let out a shrill cry and pressed your back up to meet his mouth. However, he kept moving his mouth down further until he reached your core. Mattheo's breath was hot against your sensitive skin, causing you to shiver with anticipation. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust, before dipping his head and running his tongue along your folds. You gasped, your hands instinctively grasping at the sheets beneath you. Your hand flew to his hair, but he laced his fingers with yours and held it against the bed. His skilled mouth worked you into a frenzy, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick flicks of his tongue. Your hips bucked against his face, seeking more friction, more pleasure. You chanted his name and squeezed his hand tighter as his tongue worked you. Mattheo's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued. You could feel the pressure building, a coiling heat in your lower abdomen that threatened to consume you. Just as you were about to reach your peak, Mattheo pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. 

“Mattheo, I was so close-” You whined pathetically. Mattheo shook his head with a sinister grin. 

“That’s for your attitude and your cheeky little smirk earlier,” Mattheo licked his lips of your arousal. He crawled back up your body, pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it only intensified your desire. His hand trailed down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He hooked his hands under your legs and pulled you closer to him while pressing your knees to your chest. You felt the blunt tip of his arousal pressing against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. Mattheo's eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. You nodded eagerly, your body trembling with need.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you, stretching you deliciously. You both moaned in unison as he filled you completely. Mattheo stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. It was different than the purely needy fever from last night, as if he trying to claim every inch of you. His forehead rested against yours, your breaths mingling in the charged air between you.

“Fuck. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your size,” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut so that you would only be able to feel his every inch working you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him to move. Mattheo obliged, starting with slow, deep strokes that had you gasping for air. His hips rolled against yours in a steady rhythm and he intertwined your hands with his, pressing you down into the bed while he started to move faster. You struggled to open your eyes as he started to scratch the spot you needed, but you knew that he would’ve wanted you to look at him.

“And I don’t even need to ask,” Mattheo snapped his hips with a grunt. “Such a good girl.”

The intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear as he watched your every reaction, savoring each gasp and moan that escaped your lips. Mattheo's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he drove deeper into you. You mewled with every movement of his hips and let his name roll off your lips in drunken lust. The previous coiling heat in your abdomen returned with a vengeance, threatening to overwhelm you. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you clung to him, desperate for more. Mattheo seemed to sense your need, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. The pressure built higher and higher, your body trembling on the edge of release.

“Please, Mattheo,” You begged helplessly, bringing your hips up to meet his. Every word that followed was a filthily desperate drawl. “I’ve been good! You said I was good… I’m your good girl.”

“What a dirty mouth, but you can do better than that,” Mattheo dug his fingers into your thighs with a matched need.

“Mmm- I’m so close. Please, can I cum? Please,” You pleaded with no shame. Mattheo let out another growl and moved his hand down to your clit. 

"That's it, let go for me," Mattheo panted, watching you come undone beneath him with dark, hungry eyes. The combination of his skilled fingers and relentless thrusts pushed you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your walls clenching around him as you cried out his name. Mattheo groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. Your vision blurred with the white hot stars of desire and Mattheo followed soon after. Your body trembled as aftershocks rolled through you, but Mattheo didn't slow his pace. He gripped your hips tightly, angling you just right as he pounded into you. The overstimulation bordered on too much, yet you craved more. 

The moment stalled when Mattheo’s hips did and your breath finally caught up to you. He collapsed on the bed next to you, practically on top of you because of the small space. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your body still tingling from the intense climax. Mattheo's warm weight pressed against you, his skin slick with sweat. You turned your head to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and tousled hair. His eyes met yours, softer this time. He pressed a kiss on your forehead and lightly massaged your still-trembling thighs. Your fingers lazily traced patterns on Mattheo's chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. He hummed appreciatively at your touch, his own hand skimming up and down your spine.

"That was..." You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Incredible? Mind-blowing? The best you've ever had?" Mattheo patted down your wild hair. 

"Don't get cocky," You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. Mattheo let out a laugh before rolling back over you and covering you in kisses while you squealed. With him hovering over you, you could only smile and drink in his beautiful face. The gentle curve of his jaw, the sparkle in his eyes, the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled at you - all of it belonged to you now. As his mouth met yours, you felt like the real champion.

Divider by @chachachannah

[goosewriting]

Falling for you - Part 2

summary: part 2 of falling for you, where reader falls into the rottmnt world and comes across the turtle brothers.

relationship: Rise Leo x gn!reader

warnings: none! 

word count: 1.7k 

A/N: did i totally forget about posting the second part to this? perhaps. did a recent comment remind me of it? could be. was i delighted to find a practically finished version of this in my wips, almost ready to post? absolutely. sorry for the wait, hope you like it!

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — — 

Climbing out of bed, Leo silently made his way to the projector room only to find an empty couch.

You were gone without a trace.

Or so he thought.

Turns out, you had gone to the kitchen to get something to drink. You were way too shaken up to sleep after what you pulled. The confession had all kinds of feelings and thoughts going through you, confusing you further.

Leo saw you as you came back into the projector room. You were startled at his presence, almost dropping your glass.

The words from earlier echo in your head: “You are loved. You are worthy. You are a good leader. You are a good brother. And if I am still here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next… I wish for nothing more than to be by your side.” That’s what you had told him. To the turtle, you were a complete stranger. Ugh, you thought, as you tried to will away the embarrassment from your face that was resulting in a weird blush.

“You’re awake,” you said after clearing your throat. Leo didn’t answer immediately, and a slight panic started settling in you.

“Yeah, I’m- I’m just…” he stumbled over his words. “I also came to get a drink.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

“Uh-huh…”

An uncomfortable silence settled between you two. 

“I heard what you said earlier,” Leo started, and you let out something between a sigh and a snort. With a shaky breath, you approached the couch which was your bed for the night, sitting down.

This is what I get for being so worked up over blorbo feelings, you thought bitterly. Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?!

“Can I…?” Leo asked as he stood by the couch.

“Yeah,” you said as you patted the spot next to you.

After he sat down, you just sit there in silence for a moment as you sipped your water, then set down the glass on the little side table.

“I’m guessing you want an explanation, huh,” you decided to start. 

“Yeah, uh, what you said was very… specific,” he replied with narrowed eyes. 

“Gosh, how do I explain it,” you said, more to yourself than him. “So, uhm…”

You closed your eyes to think of a feasible story, cutting out certain points here and there until you landed on something decent.

“Let’s put it like this,” you started explaining. “I come from a place far away, and I've known about you and your brothers for a long time.”

Leo thought it over for a moment.

“So you’re like, from the future?”

“Something like that, sure.”

“How did you end up here?” he asked after a moment. You sighed.

“To be completely honest, I don't even know. I don't know how to get back, or if I can get back at all. In fact, I don’t know if back in… in my world… if I’m gone there. If everyone I know thinks I just… disappeared. Or if at some point I’ll get back there, appearing in the same moment I left. It will be like nothing happened for the rest. Like at the end of the first Narnia movie, I guess.”

“The narn- what?” Leo questioned with a slight tilt of the head. 

“Never mind,” you corrected yourself, and another silence took over. You cast your eyes down to the floor.

“I can’t tell you about certain events and such, but, I bet you have questions so, feel free to ask them,” you offered without looking at him. He thought it over.

“Well, you said–” A slight blush creeped up on his face. “–you said I am loved. And a good brother and leader. Where did that come from?”

You leaned back into the couch, draping your arm over your eyes and smiling at nothing in particular, if only the awkward situation you found yourself in.

“I know you think you’re the funny one of the bunch. Always cracking jokes. Which I think are actually funny, by the way,“ you replied, and your smile faded as you put your arm back down. “But I also know that sometimes you doubt yourself. And I just wanted you to know that… you're on the right track.”

Leo shifted slightly on the couch, and when you looked up, looking for his gaze, he looked away rather uncomfortably. You bit the inside of your cheeks.

“And look, I know this sucks. Some random person you almost ran over suddenly telling you all this. But I legitimately don’t know if I’ll just disappear one moment or the next, so I just wanted you to know.”

“Why though?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

“Because I genuinely like you,” you replied without hesitation. Your genuine response caught him by surprise, and he straightened up slightly, but then a little grin spread on his face.

“So, if you’re from the future, it’s like you have a crush on a historical figure and now you’re meeting your hero, right?”

You chuckled.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

His hand came to his chin and he thought something over. 

“Maybe we just started on the wrong foot then.”

Folding one of his knees onto the couch so he could sit sideways, facing you, he stretched out his hand.

“Hey, I’m Leo.”

You smiled, taking his hand in yours for the second time that day, and told him your name.

“Delighted to finally meet you,” you added. 

“Always happy to meet a fan,” he said with a wink, and you chuckled at his antics.

“If you don’t have any plans tomorrow,” he continued, almost shyly. “Maybe I could take you out for a spin? And show you around the city.”

“I’d love that,” you replied with a warm smile.

“It’s a date then,” he said as he stood up, but realising what he said, he stumbles over his words to try and save it. You raised your hands to calm him down. 

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” you offered with a playful shrug. 

“Right, well uh. Good night then.”

With that he turned on his heels and left for his bedroom, leaving you all sorts of confused and excited for tomorrow. 

– – – – –

The next day, you opened your eyes, blinking a couple of times, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Remembering the events of the day before, you sat up on the couch, looking around to find yourself still in the lair. You didn’t know if you were relieved or stressed about it.

What if you’d actually never make it back home? Was this your life now, spending the rest of your days in a fictional world?

Standing up with a stretch, you made your way to the kitchen to join the turtles for breakfast. Well, “breakfast”; it was actually already the afternoon. But they’re essentially nocturnal, so you’d have to get used to their circadian rhythm if you were to stay here. The other turtles greeted you normally, so you concluded that Leo hadn’t told them about your conversation. Good. The less they knew, the better.

After some food and light-hearted conversation, Leo took you out around the city as promised. The first thing you did was getting new clothes, then you went for some snacks and sightseeing. By the time you were done, you were both sitting on one of the taller buildings of New York, watching the last sun rays disappear behind the horizon.

Your legs dangled over the ledge, with your chin resting on your arms over the lowest bar of the railing, and you sighed. No matter how much you wanted to enjoy this outing and time spent with Leo the freaking teenage mutant ninja turtle, there was this one thought hovering over your head, like a fly trying to land on your food. No matter how much you kept swatting it away, it just kept coming back. 

“What’s on your mind?” Leo asked after a while, already being able to read you like a book. 

“I just can’t shake this feeling of… I don’t even know what to call it,” you replied with a sharp exhale. “Just the thought that any given moment, you might turn around, and then poof, I’m gone, you know? I don’t want to just leave like that.”

“I don’t want you to leave either…” he said in a low voice, and you turned to him, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Wait, really? You’re not… annoyed by me, barging in like this?”

“No, I mean–” he explained with a lopsided smile. “It’s definitely weird, but it's not a bad weird. It’s like someone finally gets me, really sees me.”

Tilting your head to the side, you leaned your cheek on your folded arms as you looked at him. The half moon markings on his face seemed to glow with the very last drops of sunlight, about to be engulfed by the night and replaced by the moon already peeking out from behind a veil of clouds. The loose straps of his bandana swayed in the breeze, and you were transfixed by this image.

“Yeah, I see you,” you breathed. 

For a moment, there was a strange peace that washed over you, like a familiar soothing voice telling you that it’s going to be okay. Leo held your gaze just as transfixed as you, eyes soft, something unreadable reflecting in them.

The turtle was just about to say something when his phone rang. It took him a second to tear his eyes away from you, then he answered the call; it was Donnie, urging him to come back as there had been a break-in and they had to retrieve some sort of artifact. 

Your heart quickened, immediately thinking of Hypno and… the worm guy – what was his name again? – stealing the key, and you straightened up.

“We gotta go.” Leo moved to stand up, but you held him down by his arm.

He gave you a quizzical look, and that was when you made up your mind: whatever timeline this was, with or without Casey, you’d make sure that the Krangpocalypse never happened. 

You leaned in, placing a quick peck to Leo’s cheek, and his breath hitched.

“Hey, you got this,” you said with a reassuring smile.

He got up to his feet and helped you up as well, holding onto your hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Will you stay?,” he asked, uncharacteristically shy, blush evident, peeking from under his mask. “With me?”

You gave his hand a squeeze back.

“As long as this universe will allow it.”

– – – – –

A/N2: just to clarify, i know the worm is called warren stone, i just wanted to keep the running joke that no one notices him lol 

= = = = =

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] i took the liberty of not only tagging those in the taglist for leo but also everyone in the comments of the first part. hope you’re still interested in this one! and if not, feel free to ignore the tag sdfasdfg

@theoriginalmintyyyshake, @dybynyght, @lieutenantlashfaz, @galaxtic-writings, @Lovestruckfictionadict, @salty-s-r, @sleebykei, @miso-sopas, @duckanon, @wings-of-sapphire, @ashtheboookworm2, @xxnoxx, @crystal-crax, @lunaramune, @luckynesser, @rowaaaaan || @mocchamck, @warrior-girl, @moroneur, @powerauerart, @soulaansugar, @xnorthstar3x, @leafyturtle, @justmare, @the-cute-witchy-writier

[hungharrington]

Could I request something from the prompt you reblogged:

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

kitchen counters (kisses, and more)

this was hard to think of a sitch! it's a bit weird (?) but also a bit goofy at times, which i love and i hope u love anon! not any warnings needed, it's hot consensual sex except they don't use a condom but we know this is fiction and we should totally use those things irl. ok be safe and enjoy <3 2.8k words. minors do not interact.

It’s a bit of a strange morning, being here in Steve’s kitchen when you haven’t spent the night.

Not for lack of want, mind you. You hadn’t been able to is all, some family event that rolled way too late into the evening. And even though you know Steve would’ve come and picked you up if you asked, even at some point past midnight, you didn’t want to ask that of him. You knew he’d had a long day. Steve tried to insist he’d sleep better with you beside him.

“I don’t want you driving, s’all,” you said into the receiver last night, your tone apologetic. “It’s just, it’s late and you’re tired. I’ll come over in the morning, okay?”

“You promise?” Steve grumbled back. He never was in the chirpiest of moods when he went home to empty sheets. 

“Pinky.” 

And you followed through, driving over as soon as you could after your wake-up. Your own spare key lets you into the house and it’s only mildly surprising to find it quiet. The kitchen is empty, lights off. 

You think of your boyfriend, who must be still asleep upstairs, and take a couple steps up the stairs, and— ah, there it is. The sound of the shower. If you strain your ears, you can hear his faint rendition of a George Michael song. It makes you grin.

You head for the kitchen anyways, flipping on the lights as you go— it’s a bit later than Steve’s usually up but you’re willing to bet that without you there to bug him awake, he’s dozed past his usual alarm.

There are Eggos in the fridge, enough for both of you, and fill the toaster with them, pressing the lever down. You begin brewing the coffee, the scent of it percolating the air and it’s nearly ready by the time you hear Steve coming down the stairs.

He appears in the doorway, shower towel still hung around his shoulders, his chest bare. You automatically dip your gaze to drink up the sight of his chest, a mixture of love and lust competing in your chest. His hair is shaggy and wet. He’s scrubbing the back of it with the towel but he pauses, delighting at the sight of you.

“I thought I heard you,” He smiles easily, and you meet him in the middle when he comes over for a kiss. His hands circle your waist. You press up on your toes and hold his face gently, pressing your sweetest good morning onto his lips. Steve hums. His eyes are still closed when you pull back.

They flutter open and he smiles again, blindingly handsome. “Missed you last night,” he says, pulling you closer by your waist. “And this morning too.”

Your heart sings just a bit, your thumb stroking lovingly across his cheekbone. “I bet you did, handsome.”

Steve raises his brows like he thinks you don’t believe him and his hands slither down, nearing the curve of your ass as suggestiveness creeps in his tone. “Uh huh. Even had a dream about you last night.”

His head ducks into the curve of your neck, lips ghosting along your throat as he continues, voice still husky from his sleep. “Woke up hard.”

His body pressing into you confirms that his high-running hormones haven’t managed to dim in the time between his dream and now — his cock is half-hard, nudging against your thigh. You can’t help the way you shiver when he kisses your neck, wet and warm, and murmurs, “Wanna hear about it?”

He’s a bastard. That’s the first thought in your mind as his kiss turns harsher, suckling at the skin of your neck in a way that weakens your knees — he’s a bastard who knows exactly what he’s doing. Your hands slip from his jaw to his shoulders, clutching them a little tighter. You try to pull yourself together.

“Something tells me you’re gonna tell me anyways.” You remark, a pant already making your words sound a little gaspier.

Damn, he makes you needy. Your head falls back and you let him nibble along your neck, feeling your arousal sparking — and catching fire quick, burning low in your stomach.

“Mm, I could,” Steve replies, between his lovebites. His cock has gotten harder, his hips lightly grinding against you to work it the right way. You keen into his touches. “Or… I could show you?”

Your hands move to tug his face up, out of your neck, and you kiss him, hard. Steve groans appreciatively into the kiss, beginning to walk the two of you backward til his back hits the counter. He uses the leverage to pull you closer, his knee nudging between your thighs — your cunt pulses hotly as you grind down against his thigh, lust licking hot at your spine.

“Mhm, definitely…” Steve starts, words tumbling out between his kisses. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, tongue soothing along after. “Definitely started like this.”

“Oh yeah?” You huff, giving a pleasurable shudder when the seam of your jeans lines up just right, rubbing rough right on your clit. A breathy moan escapes you and pushes into Steve’s lips, sealed in your kiss.

Not breaking his kiss, Steve’s hands grip your hips, his knee nudging higher as he pulls down to grind on him again — another bolt of pleasure pulls a moan from you as you clench around nothing. For a hot minute, you two play this game; Steve dedicating himself to your bottom lip, kisses hot and hands wandering, while you rub against his thigh needily. You reach a breaking point eventually.

“Steve,” you pull back from your sloppy kiss to whine, unsure exactly what you’re asking from him.

Face more flushed than before, Steve eyes you hungrily, lips swollen from your steamy kisses. He pulls your hips forward once again, groaning at the reaction it gets him— another pitiful whine, your hands on his neck flexing.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ angel,” He muses, more to himself. He bites his lower lip and takes a second to compose himself before his fingers take a walk, eyes tracing the path they take along the edge of your jeans. Steve pauses at the button, eyes flicking up to your face, eyebrows raising an inch.

“Take ‘em off?” He asks.

“In the kitchen?” You counter, sounding a bit appalled. Not that you and Steve have ever been restricted to the bedroom, but, well….

The Eggos in the toaster pop right at that moment as if to prove your point. You and Steve's heads both whip to the side to look at it and there's a moment of silence. Steve giggles first and you join in quickly, leaning into him. The noise tapers off and when you look back to Steve, you think about the night you would've had if you hadn't been held back.

You don't owe it to him, but you certainly are eager to find out the contents of his dream.

Stepping back out of his hold, you pull your shirt off swiftly. Next, you unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down your legs, kicking them off. Your legs prickle in the sudden coolness. You enjoy the wide-eyed boyish joy on Steve's face maybe a bit too much. He clearly wasn't sure he'd convinced you.

“You did say you'd show me what happened in this dream." You say, hooking your thumbs into your panties, like you're about to work them down your legs next. You pause, tilt your head, the fire in your belly fueled by Steve's greedy gaze drinking you in, "Or do you want to be the one to take these off?"

Steve growls, stepping forward and capturing your lips with his. It's fast and messy, his lips taking and taking, hands raking fast across your body as he lets desire run free. One hand kneads at your breast, pinching lightly at the peaking nipple beneath your shirt, stirring up heat within you. The other hand delves down, down, pushes gently into your panties.

A gasp stutters out of you as he runs his middle finger along your slit, gathering the wetness welling from your entrance. The pad of his fingers drags your slick forward, searching for your clit and you're nearly embarrassed by the hiccupy whimpering noise you make when he finds it.

"There?" Steve says, though his finger has already started to circle it, treacherously slow motions. You nod, your hand slipping and grasping his bicep tightly, giving a sweet sigh of pleasure. "Oh, good girl."

The praise sinks into your skin and you can feel yourself getting wetter, another futile clench of your cunt around nothing.

"Y'think you can handle my cock?" Steve murmurs lowly, checking in with you. He meanly speeds up his soft rubs on your clit as he asks, nearly making it impossible to answer for a minute, but you manage another nod, swallowing your noises for a moment.

"Yes," You say, voice nearly a whisper. Your breathing comes out in soft little pants, chest heaving. "Yes, yes, please, Steve."

Steve hums, pulling his hand from your panties and reaching for his own pants, the buckle clinking as he undoes his belt clumsily. His jeans pool at his ankles, kicked off in the direction of your own, and for a moment, it makes you laugh — two pairs of crumpled jeans on your kitchen floor all because of Steve's horny sleeping brain.

"So," you say, glancing for a moment at his tenting boxers. It makes you salivate just a bit. "How do you want me? How did the dream go?"

You emphasize the word dream, bending over to rest your forearms on one of the counters, sticking your ass out behind you tantalizingly. Steve's eyes stare intensely, chest rising and falling as he steps closer — his hands fall onto your lower back, dragging down lightly, til his fingertips curl under the elastic of your panties.

"Mhmm," He drags them further, revealing the swell of your ass and hot cunt and releasing a resounding groan of appreciation. He sounds breathless when he says, "Just... fuck, just like this."

Your panties gather round your ankles and you step out of them. Behind you, you can hear the sound of his boxers dropping, one warm hand leaving your skin for just a second. It's back in an instant, both his hands shifting down again, spreading your cunt wide for him.

Steve lets out another raspy groan, one of his thumbs coming down to play in the well of slickness building at your hole — your head tips forward with a shaky pleasured sigh of relief.

"Oh, so wet for me already." He says, bordering a tease. You resist the urge to wriggle your hips, to push back and see if he'll relent and touch you more. "Already so messy, huh?"

His light tone of mock twines up your desire and tugs it harshly, your cunt clenching with a whine so loud you nearly don’t hear his chuckle. You're nearly dizzy with relief when the next touch is his cock, nudging against your hot entrance lightly. One hand holds your hip.

Steve goes easy, sinking into you tortuously slow til his thighs meet the back of yours, a sighing moan scraping out his throat as he does. You keen, a strained mewl pushing out your throat as you get filled— so full it aches deliciously, aches for more.

“Ste— fuck,” His name is stolen from your mouth in a gasp, your hands gripping the counter as he pulls his hips back slow, the drag so so fucking delectable. Shit.

Steve rolls his hips forward, pushing back in gently and he pauses again, giving you a moment — even as you tremble and huff out high little noises, clearly enjoying yourself. Warmth spreads across your back as he leans over, pressing himself against your back and his cock further in. There’s a soft kiss on your spine, then another.

“Fuck,” he breathes heavily, breath fanning across your back. He gives another leisurely roll of his hips, a gentle fuck into your heat. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as your cunt clamps down on him. Another whiney noise passes your lips, heat curling up tight in your lower tummy. “Fuck, s’like you’re made for me. Like this pussy was just made for me.”

“Stevie,” you plead, managing to get the word out this time. There’s another ghost of his lips along your skin, then his arm shifts, wriggling under your tummy. He scoops it around your middle, hand pushing up between your breasts to rest on your sternum. Still folded atop you, Steve finally begins to move, hips pumping his cock in and out, faster and faster.

You squeal, body humming like a livewire as Steve finally fucks you, the soft squelch of your cunt sucking him in filling the kitchen. Steve’s chest burns hotly where it’s pressed to your back and you can hear every grunt that pairs with the snap of his hips, his hand on your hip and his arm under you pulling you back to meet every thrust.

Your eyes slip closed, little uh, uh, uh’s coming from your pretty mouth mixed with whimpers of Steve’s name. You’re stretched up on your toes, trying to get the angle that only Steve has ever found. Your core is burning with desire, a throbbing growing in your clit.

“You’re- shit, you’re better than a dream, sweetheart.” Steve grunts, hips never slowing his motions. The stretch of his cock has gone by now but the shape of his hard cock feels like he’s moulding your insides — and you love it.

“Nothing beats this pussy, mm. Nothing,” He drags out the word with a groan, breath coming out in hot pants against your back. “Beats fucking my girl.”

You’re nodding, beginning to feel too fucked out to even think of words. Steve’s hand shifts your hips up and you know he’s looking for that spot inside you— because you can feel his grin against your spine when you whine loudly when the head of his cock finds it.

“Oh, is that the spot?” Steve asks, voice dripping in condescension. You nod frantically. He starts to bully it with his cock, every fast thrust hitting it over and over, til nothing but the melted words of more and please leave your mouth in a drooling ramble. You’re whimpering and whining, cunt drooling all over his cock, down your thighs.

“That’s it, honey.” The words come out a bit choppy like Steve’s own orgasm was rearing its head and his hand moves off your hip — deftly finding your clit. You make a pathetic moan of his name as he circles it harshly, quick circles with the pads of his fingers.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Steve— uh, fuck,” You’re spewing anything that comes to your brain, your hips rocking back to meet Steve’s hard thrusts instinctively as you chase your high.

“Shit, honey,” Steve moans, voice climbing higher and breathier. His hips begin to jackhammer, stuttering as his orgasm tips over — a whiney string of curses sung into your skin as he fucks into your wet, hot cunt, hot cum dribbling from his cock inside you.

You’re desperate now, teetering close to your own edge but not quite there. “Stevie, please,” you cry. His fingers on your clit which had slowed regain their speed, his hips picking back up as he begins his murmurs to you.

“C’mon, honey, you’re so close, can feel this pussy sucking me in.“ He whispers hotly, his hand on your sternum moving to grope at your breast, fingers twisting at your nipple. “Want you to cum for me, okay? Please fucking cum for me.”

You don’t get a lot of choice with his cock drilling into you, pushing that sweet spot enough that your orgasm finally builds and melts — a strangled whiney moan of his name warbles out of you, instantly met with Steve’s praises, murmurs of how good you are for him. It feels like every nerve is alight, turning over and pulsing as the waves of pleasure ride out in your body.

You exhale, trying to catch your breath as you half melt into the counter, finally lowering off your tiptoes as you relax in the post-haze. Steve eases his cock out of you, the quietest wince, and you give yourself another minute before you drag yourself up, beginning to look for your abandoned panties. A thought strikes you.

“So,” you pant, leaning back against the counter; you’ll definitely need to sanitise that later. Steve’s rescued his boxers, tugging them up as he raises his brows to indicate he’s listening to your question. “How’d we do on the dream recreation?” You ask.

Steve grins cheekily. “Oh, in my dream we fucked on the couch.”

[xo-cod]

Cockwarming simon and having a casual conversation but can't stop kissing and touching each other and moving a little bit so it's just talking about the most mundane stuff while kissing and moaning mid convo

i fell in love w this and it's so :") i hope you enjoy love.

cw: cockwarming, ooc/soft simon, rushed (but i can def go into more detail if you want 😵‍💫)

nothing in the world belongs to me but my love is mine, all mine

work had been tough.

it always was but this week had been incredibly difficult on him. not to mention with the fact that both of you had been so busy there hadn't been time for much of anything. he didn't think he could miss a person more, didn't think he could desire a person more than you. he all but rushed home, ignoring the looks from price and gaz and the call from johnny. he could deal with it all tomorrow, his mind and heart were after one thing. after one person.

and there you were, cuddled on the bed the remote in your hands as your eyes watched the movie mindlessly. the light illuminating your features making the moment that much more intimate. he definitely broke some rules on his drive over back home but it was all worth it, for this beautiful moment here.

"what's on?" his deep voice fills the air and your head turns, a soft chuckle leaving your lips when you see him pad through and feel the bed shift underneath his weight to come closer to you

"some rom com" came your answer and a soft laugh falls from his scarred lips, settling in right beside you.

"should've waited for me" he hummed, his fingers pulling off his skull balaclava as he took a soft breath in. humming in contentment when his lips meet your warm skin, nuzzling deep into your neck. you figured he would settle down, turn his tired eyes to the tv and watch with you until sleep ultimately claimed his body. though in your arms now, he was fidgeting and fussing unable to get close. somehow he couldn't seem to get comfortable and with a soft grunt, pulled back a little and eyed your pajamas as if they had offended him terribly

"can you... take these off, love? please?" he asked tiredly, already tugging on the hem of your top while his eyes flicked back to yours again

"you want it off?" you clarify and he nods, brown eyes burning with emotion while he shifts further into you even if he had been pressed so close to your body there hadn't been a slither of space available. and when you give him the nod of approval, his hands reach out and gently pull your top over your head. his palms skimming your warm body with delight, pressing his face closer as he peppers lazy kisses all across your chest and neck

"long day?" your tone is gentle, your arms around his neck as they gently scratch the back of his neck making him shiver with bliss. it had been one of weak spots and he adored how much you used it to your advantage

"long long day" came his response, a soft groan falling from his lips when he stretches his back a little, big hands roaming every expanse of skin he could reach. but still, even this wasn't enough for him.

"need you, need to be inside you lovie" he murmured softly, caging you securely inside his huge arms and being so close, you can smell his musk tinged with his cologne, your body reacting on autopilot. as if you couldn't deny the sweet man in your arms of anything anyway

simon's body finally relaxed for once throughout this long terrible day, arms wound closely around you. his lips nudge yours, his lips battling yours trying to steal your breath and hold it hostage with his lips. he drank in your sounds, his tongue swiping your lower lip as it dipped into your mouth

he nudged your legs apart with his knee, fingers hooked over the waistband of your underwear before he tugged it down and delicately placed it on the side of the bed. the head of his cock rubbed against the wetness of your slit. he loved teasing himself for a second or so, knowing just how good your wetness would feel around him. he could've got drunk high of this feeling every time, you never disappointed him.

a small groan when he pushes his hips a little, relishing in the way you already clenched around him. he's usually composed even through the highs of euphoria but it had been too damn long, a soft whimper escapes him at just how good you feel. he's not ghost, he's not someone that has to be in control right now. he's relinquished it all up to you, he's just someone that wants to be in the throes of pleasure again and again.

"christ, y'feel so bloody good baby" his breathing was laboured, words slurring softly as his eyes closed almost immediately when his hips thrust the slightest bit. it's not meant to be sexual tonight, he just needed to feel grounded and closer to you. he pushes until he bottomed out, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other came to the back of your neck to kiss you tenderly again and again. his face pressed in the crook of your neck as if it had been made for him, his breathing slowing down as his body calmed down for the first time that day.

"s'all yours lovie, m'yours" he could barely keep his eyes open, snuggled up close enjoying your warmth. finally feeling safe between your arms and the blanket wrapped around him

[dandylovesturtles]

listen ok I know shit is dire in CAS land (by @somerandomdudelmao) but I had this stupid idea and it's a slow day at work and I type fast so here you go I didn't proofread this at all

I'm sorry I made it silly

Massive spoilers if you haven't read the new CAS update

...

"I can fix it," is a much easier thing to say than to do. Casey's thinking that as he takes long, quick strides through the lair, turning the problem over in his head as fast as he can. He hopes Uncle Tello can't hear the parts of his thoughts that are in a panic, but based on their conversation before he probably can.

Uncle Tello doesn't say anything about it, and Casey kind of wishes he would, just for the reassurance that he's still there.

He's so absorbed in his thoughts he doesn't notice Donnie (the younger Donnie, the physical Donnie) standing in front of him until it's too late and he's already collided with his back. Coffee spills everywhere, though thankfully it only splashes his plastron where he can't get burned.

Younger Donnie whirls, something distinctly murderous in his eye that feels so weird and wrong directed at Casey. It cools only slightly when Donnie processes it wasn't one of his brothers bumping into him, and somehow that feels just as weird, that Donnie has to readjust his feelings to accommodate the unfamiliarity. (He's not family, not to this Donnie.)

"Is something chasing you?" Donnie snaps.

"Uh... no-"

"Is there a fire?"

"No, but-"

"Do you need glasses?"

"I don't... think so?"

"Then watch where you're going!"

He spins on his heel and marches off, toward the kitchen to get more coffee, Casey assumes. For a moment he's left too off kilter and dumbfounded to remember what he was doing.

Then Uncle Tello's voice in his head startles him out of it. What just happened?

Oh, uh... I ran into the other version of you.

Ran into?

Literally. I spilled his coffee.

Ah, and he didn't take it well.

And Casey knows he shouldn't stop for this. Casey knows they may be on limited time and he has to fix this and Uncle Tello shouldn't have to listen to his whining about things that don't matter.

But he's been holding in so many feelings for so long and even if it's just in his head, hearing his uncle's (dad's) voice makes it rush out of him before he can stop it.

I don't think he likes me very much. I touched his shell the other day and he snapped at me. I got mad at him when he touched your tech and that made him mad, too. I don't know how to talk to him.

He doesn't really know how to talk to any of them, is the thing. It used to be the easiest thing in the world, and now it's a wall he hasn't yet learned how to scale.

He can feel his thoughts spiraling against his will. He doesn't have time for this, but the grief and the lack of sleep and the lack of easy affection are all mixing together with the weirdness of it all into a dangerous Molotov cocktail of emotions and he's not sure what will light the fuse.

Casey Jr, says Uncle Tello's voice.

Uncle Tello?

Do you want to see something really funny?

Casey can't help but make a strangled noise at the back of his throat, one that isn't a laugh but isn't a cry either. Something funny?

Yeah. Trust me, it'll be hilarious. Go to my lab.

Casey hesitates. He doesn't let me in there without him...

I feel confident I outrank him. Wait, how old is he?

Sixteen.

Ahhh, that explains it. I know I'm an absolute delight now, but at that age I could be a real pill.

It startles an actual laugh out of Casey. Without arguing further, he rushes to Donnie's lab, quick before he can finish brewing his coffee.

How do I get in?

Is this the subway?

Yeah.

Okay, there's a manual override for the voice lock hidden in one of the wall panels, should be... three to the left, middle of the door. Give that a good knock. Shave and a haircut~

Casey does as directed, and the panel slides back, revealing a flat, glossy keypad.

What's the access code? he asks, feeling like they're on some secret mission now. Maybe it doesn't fall into what people in this time consider normal, but to Casey this is standard stuff. He falls into the rhythm of it like a well loved song.

Oh one one four twenty one twenty seven, says Uncle Tello.

Casey punches it in and the door slides open. He slips inside and hits the button to close and lock the door behind him. Donnie still hasn't returned; the mission is proceeding as planned.

Wasn't that the code for one of the weapons lockers in the old- at base?

Yes, it was. Poor security protocol to reuse codes, I know, but I'm partial to that one.

What is it?

Atomic Lass's birth date. Uncle Tello pauses, then adds, Has he shown you any of the old Atomic Lass episodes of Jupiter Jim?

Uh, no...

Ah, continuing to fail my already low expectations, Teen Tello. Never mind, we'll worry about that later on.

Later on. Right, they shouldn't be doing this, they should be trying to fix Uncle Tello, they should be-

To my computer, Casey Jr! I can't type so you'll have to do it for me.

Uncle Tello's voice pulls him out of his reverie, and he hurries to do as he's told.

Uncle Tello walks him through passwords and then through navigating the OS. It's old and out of date compared to what they had in the future (Donatello's custom OS, better than the hacks at Apple and Microsoft, or so he said), but when Casey had called it old and out of date Donnie had gotten mad about that, too.

Ada Lovelace, this is old, says Uncle Tello's voice now, and incredibly Casey laughs again.

But they find what he's looking for and then input a series of commands into the command line. Casey isn't familiar with all of them, but if he had to guess, they just sent a video from late 2019 to every device in the lair.

Alright, mission accomplished, time to retreat, says Uncle Tello's voice, and he hurries out of the lab, just in time to hear a ping from the phone in his pocket.

He pulls it out and watches the video. It's Donnie, only slightly younger than the teen Casey now lives with, adjusting the camera before grinning and posing in front of it. He's in his lab, though a different one than the one here in the subway. He looks cocky.

He moves further back from the camera so his entire body is framed in its lens, then steps onto a skateboard. He glides in a circle for a moment, then jumps to try and do some kind of trick. Casey doesn't know the name of it, but what he does know is that Donnie's feet get caught in his board, and he ends up tumbling to the floor, crashing in an undignified heap, arms splayed out and face smooshed against the concrete.

It shouldn't be funny.

(It's pretty funny.)

It seems the others echo this sentiment, because suddenly Casey can hear laughter erupting from elsewhere in the lair.

"OMIGOSH! Barry, you gotta watch this!"

"HAHAHAHA BRO ATE SHIT!"

"Hah... Don't worry Donnie, I'm sure you'll get it next ti-hahahahaha!"

There's the sound of scurrying feet, and then Donnie slides into the hall, glaring at Casey who forgot he should be moving away from the crime scene.

"YOU!" he screeches.

Casey freezes. What is he supposed to say? What excuse does he have? The you in my head told me to do it? Yeah right.

Casey does the only sensible thing and turns to run.

Casey Jr?

Uncle Tello!?

What's happening now?

The other you is after me!

Oh. Well. Better run fast.

Casey turns on the speed, sprinting down the corridor and toward the only exit he knows, Donnie hot on his trail.

Why is every younger version of you so scary!?

Oh please, there's no way that scrawny, barely pubescent mess is scary. Have you ever heard his voice crack?

...Well, yeah...

See? Hilarious. And we didn't even have to pull up my browser history.

Okay, but none of this helped us fix anything.

Ah well. One problem at a time.

[lendeah]

Thank you very much, Gale. Goodnight.

Pairing: Gale x Fem!Reader/Tav

Summary:

Upon reaching the Last Light Inn, your party is informed about the room arrangements: you will have to share rooms in pairs. Fate has it that you find yourself paired with a particularly charming wizard. To add a twist, there's only one bed. or Gale and Tav relive the "there was only one bed" trope.

Tags: Fluff and smut. They are so cute.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: NSFW (minors dni), thighs, frottage, heavy petting, mutual masturbation, touch starved Gale.

Note: This was going to be a prompt but it got out of hand. Anyway, a small gift for the Gale girlies (me, I am the Gale girlies). Also, not proofread and english isn't my first language, so be gentle!🫶🏻

"You will have to share rooms in pairs" Yaheira had deadpanned. After our long journey, we finally reached the Last Light Inn. We were hoping for a comfortable bed and some privacy, but our hopes were crushed.

Yaheira didn't seem fazed by our reactions, her expression remaining stoic.

"After all the blood, sweat and tears we poured into saving you lot back there this is the beautiful appreciation we get in return?" Astarion exclaimed dramatically, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Yaheira's cold stare silenced him. "Many soldiers are residing here, sacrificing their own comfort for our cause. Four of them have given up their bedchambers for your stay. You should be grateful," she reprimanded sharply.

The creaky wooden floors and musty smell hinted at the age of the building, but it was a small price to pay for a warm bed and shelter from the danger of the shadows outside. The group stood in a huddle, debating their next move. Wyll's voice rang out confidently "I propose we stay at the camp like we have been doing.".

Karlach's response was immediate and determined: "What, and die in the shadows? No, thank you."

You let out a frustrated sigh, feeling about to faint from weariness. "Guys, we're all exhausted. We should just accept the offer and get some rest. We practically sleep on top of each other every other day anyway."

"Yeah, but not on the same bed." Shadowheart chimed, giving Lae'zel a sly side glance. "And how would we determine who sleeps with whom, anyway?"

Gale, the ever-practical one, interjected: "Perhaps we could employ a method of chance, such as drawing straws, in order to make a resolution?"

So that's how Gale and you end up entering the old dusty and messy bedroom from the last Light Inn. The single bed in the middle seems to be laughing at us.

Gale sighs. "I knew sharing rooms wasn't a good idea. I should just crawl under the bed." He scans the room, eyes coming to rest on the window, with the dark sky looming outside. "I could sleep out there too." He pauses. "The prospect of such a cozy rest is indeed quite alluring. The brisk gusts brushing against my face, as I gaze upwards towards the unobstructed expanse of the starry heavens. Delightful, wouldn't you agree?"

He moves to get out of the door, but you grab his arm, your voice pleading, tinged with desperation from the exhaustion. "Please, Gale, I know it's uncomfortable, but can we just please do this tonight and figure out a better plan tomorrow?"

He swallows, glancing down at your fingers wrapped around his arms. "I-I don't think you realize just how difficult it'll be for me. This bed's too small, and it's too close, and—I can't."

I look at him with my eyes narrowed "If you don't get on the bed in the next five minutes, I am going to use my maze on you. And let me tell you, it hurts"

He looks at me dumbfounded ."...You wouldn't?" You give him a pointed stare. Of course, you don't mean to hurt him, but you are too tired to fight or move for that matter.

He swallows, looking you up and down again. Then he nods and turns toward the bed. "Uh, fine. I guess I'll, uh, get on the bed. However, I cannot guarantee that any peculiar occurrences will not transpire. I mean, not that I expect anything weird to happen. Just, you know, putting it out there. Okay, I'll stop talking now."

Your roll your eyes fondly at his rambling. As Gale awkwardly settles onto the edge of the bed, you quickly change into your undergarments and crawl into the other side. The bed creaks under both of your weight, making Gale flinch. The space feels narrow, forcing you close together. There's barely an inch in between, and any movement sends you brushing up against him. You can feel his body heat radiating off him, a little toasty.

"The dimensions of this bed are rather diminutive," he whispers, staring up at the ceiling under the blanket, unable to make eye contact with you.

"Aren't you sharp" you whisper teasingly.

"It's... it's tiny! How do you expect two fully-grown individuals to successfully sleep in this thing?" He says in an exasperated whisper. It is small, though. Feels like I'm being wrapped in a blanket... Except the blanket is another person.

I sigh in exhasperation, "Gale I am trying to sleep for god's sake!"

Gale shifts uncomfortably, trying to make himself as small as possible on the narrow bed. "I apologize, I didn't mean to disturb your slumber. I just...I can't get comfortable in such confined space."

You let out another sigh, feeling a little bad for him. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault, but is it possible that we exchange our positions? I don't mean to inconvenience you, but I feel like I can't relax like this. I can sleep on the edge of the bed, and you can sleep in the middle."

You look at him, one second away from grabbing your maze for real. "Gale, there is no middle, every part of this damned bed is the edge!"

Gale, is still fidgeting on his side.

"This is ridiculous," you mutter under your breath.

"I know," he responds quietly. "I'm sorry." He bites his lip, looking up at the ceiling again. "It seems as though you are now stuck with me as your blanket," he says, turning his head in your direction. "I hope this arrangement does not cause any discomfort for you... I would not want to impede upon your sleep."

At that, you can’t help but smile fondly back at him "It could be worse," you remark softly. "I could be stuck with Halsin and his incessant snores."

"Halsin snores?" He blinks in genuine surprise. "I never would have guessed. Is it disruptive? Like a storm tearing through the night?"

You roll your eyes. "You wouldn't know, you sleep like a rock all night." Your words are playful, as you nudge him lightly with your elbow.

"I do not! I am an extremely light sleeper, in fact, the slightest noise can jolt me from my slumber. It's quite a remarkable feat, really." His brow furrows. "Wait, does this imply that you have observed me in my sleep?" He blurts out. He is now on his side too, both of us facing each other.

A soft chuckle escapes from your lips, banishing all thoughts of sleep. "Yeah," you remarked with a playful smile, "I must say, you look really cute when you're sleeping."

The moonlight streaming in through the window cast a gentle glow on Gale's face, making your heart swell with affection. His tousled hair and big brown eyes look even softer in this ambience.

His mouth drops open, his eyebrows now shooting up to his hairline. "I do not look cute while I sleep!"

"So cute, with your cheeks all puffed," you say, reaching out to pinch his cheek playfully.

Gale's face flushes a bright red and he turns away, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"I—I'm not cute when I sleep," he whispers." I am powerful! A talented wizard, a master of magic. I do not need to be "cute". And I'm not!" But as he protests, you can't help but notice the way his cheeks flush and how his hair sticks up in all directions, making him look endearingly disheveled. You can't resist the temptation and reach over to tickle his middle. "Cutie!"

"I am not!" he protests, giggling as you tickle him. "Stop it! You're making me... gahahaha!" His laughter bubbles out of him despite his attempts to hold it in.

You laugh too, enjoying the sound of his laughter. "See? Cute."

"I'm not cute!" he gasps out between laughs. "I'm... hahaha... I'm powerful!" He tries to sit up, but you pin him down with your hand on his chest. "You are cute, Gale. And you're adorable when you laugh," you say, looking into his eyes. He looks at you, his cheeks still flushed with laughter and embarrassment. For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other before Gale clears his throat and lays on his side again.

"Gale?" I call out softly, hoping to break the silence.

"Yes...?"His voice is barely audible.

Smirking mischievously, you decide to push his buttons a little more.

"You know, I have trouble falling asleep unless I'm cuddled up next to someone." you whisper

He flinches. It takes a moment for your request to fully register, and he stares at you with a mixture of shock and confusion.

"...Are you serious? You want me to cuddle you?"

You nod eagerly, a hopeful smile playing on your lips. "Usually it would be Shadowheart offering, but she's not here right now."

"You want—me, to wrap my arms around you, to..."

His eyes narrow. "Am I hearing you right? You're asking me, to hold you?"

You roll my eyes "Yes Gale, that is usually how cuddling works."

Gale looks at you, taken aback by your request. His face flushes with embarrassment as he considers your words. "Um...I-I'm not entirely certain if that would be a prudent course of action," he stammers out, looking away from you.

"Forget it," Frustration wells up inside of you and you let out a low grunt before turning away to face the opposite side of the room.

"Er- I mean, wait, that wasn't a rejection... " He scoots closer, careful not to touch you. You turn yourself, so you are looking at him again. He looks down at you with a nervous expression. "So if I were to, hypothetically speaking, encircle my arms around your form, you wouldn't object?"

For some reason, your heart skips a beat at the thought of his arms around you.

"Well," you respond playfully. "I would probably say something along the lines of 'thank you very much Gale, goodnight'."

He hesitates for a moment before finally inching closer, his arm hovering uncertainly in the air. With a deep breath, he takes the plunge and wraps his arm around you, pulling you gently against his chest. You let out a surprised gasp, not expecting him to actually cuddle you, but the warmth and comfort that radiate from him are welcome in the cold room. You nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear and inhaling the intoxicating combination of an old book's musty pages and his rich cologne, laced with a subtle hint of sweat. You wrap your arms tighter around his soft body, savoring the feeling of being held in his strong embrace.

"Thank you, Gale" you whisper, intertwining your fingers behind his back. "Goodnight."

As the exhaustion of your journey settles over you, you feel the familiar pull of sleep in your body. However, the moment is disturbed by the feeling of something hard poking your stomach. Your eyes snap open and meet Gale's, who stands there frozen with shock and embarrassment.

"I... I'm sorry," he stammers out, mortified. "I didn't mean for that to happen. It's just been so long and you are so close and..."

Your bodies are still pressend, and you try to make sense of everything. Finally, you laugh softly and pat his arm reassuringly. "It's okay, Gale. There's nothing to be embarrassed about." you say reassuringly, though you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"But... but I didn't mean for this to happen," he repeats, still clearly flustered.

"It's natural," you say calmly, trying to put him at ease. "It happens sometimes when people get close like this."

Gale nods slowly, still looking a little uncertain. He shifts slightly so that the bulge isn't pressing against your body as much anymore. "Thank you for understanding," he says quietly. Your heart swells with affection as you watch him; there is something endearing about his vulnerability in this moment. You have an overwhelming urge to pull him close, to shield him from any harm and take care of him.

A twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience as you watch the flush rise in his cheeks, a direct result of your teasing. You chew on your lip for a moment before an idea strikes you. "Do you... want me to lend a hand?" You offer tentatively, gazing up at him with soft eyes and a gentle tone. His big brown orbs widen in surprise at your unexpected offer. You are also taken aback by your own words, but don't take them back.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. You can see the struggle in his expression as he tries to process what you just said.

"I mean, it's completely up to you," you quickly add, not wanting to pressure him into anything. "I just thought maybe it would help alleviate some of your... discomfort."

He takes a deep breath and looks away from you, clearly embarrassed. Gale hesitates for a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay," his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart races at his acceptance. You were not expecting him to actually agree to your offer, but you are weirdly glad he did. "Okay," you repeat softly, moving your hand down to his waist and pulling him closer. You slowly reach down between both your bodies, gently taking hold of his erection through his pants. Gale gasps softly as your fingers brush against him, sending shivers down his spine. You can feel his breath hitch in anticipation as you start to move your hand up and down. As you gaze up at him, his arms still holding your body, a deep stirring awakens within you. The wizard before you, with his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, is more attractive than you had ever realized. His tanned skin is like velvet against your fingertips, and his long hair falls over his face in gentle waves. Each reaction to your caress, every soft moan that escapes his lips, only adds fuel to the fire growing inside of you. Looking so eager for your touch.

Without hesitation, you lean forward and capture his lips in a gentle kiss. To your surprise, he responds enthusiastically, his hands moving to rest on your face as he pulls you closer to him. You deepen the kiss, your heart racing at the feeling of his warm lips against yours and the subtle tickle of his beard on your cheeks. As you continue to kiss, your hands never stops the gentle strokes on his erection. Gale's moans are becoming louder and more urgent. You can feel his need growing as he grinds against your hand, seeking more friction.

"L-let me touch you" he says between ragged breaths.

You smile at him, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the effect you're having.

"I have a better idea," you say softly, moving your hand away from his erection. You take off your panties, and move on your side in front of him again. Gale lets out a small gasp as you straddle him, feeling the heat of his arousal pressed against your bare thighs.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice thick with both curiosity and lust.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips. "I'm going to give you something even better than my hand to relieve yourself," you purr, swaying your hips in demonstration in a slow, enticing rhythm, that elicits a delicious friction between his cock and the warm heat of your thighs and cunt.

You take one of his hands and guide it to your breast, letting him feel its softness and moaning quietly at the touch. Gale's eyes widen in surprise, gently squeezing it but with his eyes fixed on yours.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, reaching up to touch your face with his free hand.

"Thank you, so are you," you reply, leaning down to capture his lips in another tender kiss. He seems to find your praise very arousing, as his breathing quickens and he thrusts his hips upward, seeking more contact with your body. In response, you arch your back and press your chest against him, savoring the feel of his erection against your core and thighs.

"I want you so much," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I've been dreaming of this moment for so long but I never- I didn’t think-“ he gasps at a particularly good thrust.

You're not sure how to answer, so instead you keep whispering sweet nothings in his ear. "You're an amazing kisser, Gale," you say, "you touch me so good..."

He moans in your mouth, gripping your hips harder as he keeps pounding erratically. Your hands move to his hair, pulling from the strands and eliciting a small whine from his throat. You can feel the hardness of his erection brushing against your wet folds with every movement, and it sends shivers of pleasure down your spine. You let out a moan into his lips as his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing small circles that send sparks of pleasure throughout your body. Feeling his arousal growing even more, you know he won't last much longer, so you move your hips in a faster rhythm, grinding against his cock with more urgency.

Gale lets out a low growl, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he matches your movements. The friction between your bodies is almost unbearable, but in the most delicious way possible. As you continue to move together, your breaths growing heavier and more ragged, you can feel the familiar sensation of your orgasm building within you too. Gale seems to be close as well, as he begins to thrust deeper and harder into your thighs, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. You can hear the slap of skin and the squelching sound of your now wet thighs.

"Oh, gods," he gasps out, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the edge. "I'm gonna..."

His body suddenly tenses up as he comes undone, his hips bucking wildly as he spills himself into the soft skin. For several moments, Gale lies there panting and gasping for breath.

"Oh, gods," he gasps out. "That was...amazing."

You lean and press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling at him as you do.

"I'm glad it brought you pleasure," you whisper softly, running your fingers through his hair.

Suddenly, his skilled fingers find their way back to your core. He seems to sense that you didn't reach climax with him earlier and now he's determined to make sure you do. His touch is intense as he circles and rubs against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You let out a moan, arching your back and grinding against his hand. He watches you with intense desire in his eyes as he continues to pleasure you.

"Gods, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with lust. "I am not going to be able to forget this."

His words only fuel your desire even more, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge once again. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you ride the waves of pleasure, your hips moving in sync with his fingers.

"I want to make you feel good," Gale says breathlessly, kissing along your neck and collarbone. "Tell me what feels good."

You guide his hand lower, signaling for him to enter you with his fingers. He complies eagerly, sliding two fingers inside of you and curling them just right to hit that perfect spot. You cry out in pleasure, your walls clenching around him. You know you are not going to last long, still sensitive from the previous ministrations.

"Thank the heavens and hells," Gale groans, looking at me like I am a work of art. Setting a steady pace with his fingers, he kisses down your chest and takes one nipple into his mouth. The combination of sensations has you teetering on the edge once again.

"I-I'm close," you manage to say between gasps.

"Come for me," Gale whispers against your skin, increasing the speed and pressure of his movements.

With a final thrust of his fingers and a flick of his tongue against your hardened nipple, you come undone in a powerful climax that leaves you panting and shaking in Gale's arms. He holds onto you tightly as he continues to pleasure you through the aftershocks.

"That was incredible," he murmurs against your skin as he peppers kisses all over your face.

"Yes it was," you reply dreamily, still basking in the afterglow.

Gale pulls out from between your thighs and settles down next to you, his strong arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. As you press your body closer to his, you feel a subtle shift, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of you. Instead of voicing it out loud, you turn to him and whisper,

"Thank you very much, Gale. Goodnight"

[notroosterbradshaw]

That May Be All I Need

about: with Bradley, you're easy... just like Sunday morning. Or those early stages of new relationships.

word count: 5.4k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

Months, literal figurative months since he’d left. You’d only been dating a few weeks, certainly nothing committal, before his lengthy deployment. It was drinks, some casual dates, some really, really great sex. You thought he’d probably forget about you, in all honesty. so when he ended up texting he wasn't far from land and hoping to get a drink somewhere with you that night, you didn't want to appear too eager. Yet here you were -

“Good morning,” he whispered lazily in your ear the next morning, the heat of the sun outside already heating up your bedroom, the sliver of gold peaking around the ridges of the willowy drapes. His body warm and hard against yours as he wrapped his long, muscular arms around you, large palms wrapping around your ribs, cheekily keeping their slight distance from the curve of your breasts. Not that you’d mind some morning delight in any stretch. Bradley’s body made you in-fucking-satiable. You’d never slept with anyone like him. His ability to give you exactly what you need every time… soft, sweet, rough, and the confidence to show yourself off a little. Please him as much as he would effortlessly please you. 

He nuzzled just behind your ear, the light scratch of his moustache tickling the sensitive skin and you couldn’t resist your burgeoning grin as you snuggled in closer to him, and laced a hand back to scratch his scalp through the messy, next-day curls. “How’d you sleep?” his morning rasp was a thing of utter beauty.

You had one of the hottest men you’d ever met wrapped around your body… how did he think you slept? “I slept well,” you confirmed softly. He kept you tucked tight against him, his body coiled around you the whole night. You were never much of a snuggler before but with Bradley? Well, exceptions would be made because… look at him. 

“I didn’t snore?” he asked, a little concerned as you laughed quietly. 

“The teeniest, tiniest bit,” you indicated the smallest amount on your fingers, but in no way it was a dealbreaker.

He groaned. “Shit. I’m sorry, I’m so exhausted,” he confided. “And I only snore when I’m super tired. Just wake me up, and I’ll roll over,” he instructed for next time. 

“How can you be sure that's true?” you teased.

He scoffed behind you. “I’ve been told," his voice dripping in humour.

The thing was, last night you were sprawled out over his chest while you felt his heartbeat and traced the ridges and ropes of the thick muscle and while he was so content, you would certainly not be waking the beast as much as you wanted to unleash it. He needed to catch up on all the sleep he could, even if he admitted he was a terrible sleeper. He was so used to the cramped conditions of his bunk, that even when in his own bed, he tended to stick close to the edge, smothered in his single pillow and stay to his regimented alarms.

But last night didn’t reflect that and you hoped he was finding ease in your bed… in more than ways than one.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him but you panicked. “I... didn’t snore?”

He shook his head. “If you did, I didn’t hear it, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. God, you would never get sick of hearing him call you that. The way the endearment rolled off his tongue could set you alight. “Thank goodness,” you muttered to yourself as he chuckled lightly. “Can I make you some coffee?”

He hummed. “Real coffee, not some shitty black tar?” he reasoned with himself teasingly, kissing the nape of your neck and you shuddered. He couldn’t resist that devilish, dark chuckle that came with it. “Coffee sounds amazing. But don’t you move,” he said, barely shuffling. “I’ll go figure it out,” he loosened his grip on you and while you wanted to protest, you’d been awake a little while and your wicked caffeine dependency had kicked right in.

Rolling to your back, you pulled the single white linen sheet up for some modesty and snuggled into the pillow that smelled like his cologne. You watched as he slid out of the bed and by god, his body… you knew you were staring. How were you to help it, the thick, well-worked golden muscle strewn across his long limbs and torso. He was an Adonis, you decided as you watched him reach for his boxer briefs discarded the night before. He was so hard, he made no secret about it as he boldly grinned down at you and bent over to cage your face between his large hands that grasped your pillow.

“Something catchin’ your eye?”

“Everything,” you admitted as his face hovered over yours, sinfully amused. He delicately licked your top lip and reactionary, your thighs rubbed together in glee. “Maybe the coffee can wait…” you told him as he gave a simple nod, lip quirking into a sweet pout. 

“Yeah, the coffee can probably wait,” he agreed, tossing his underwear away and slipping back on the bed, gently pulling back the sheet you’d just dragged back up and resting his bulk on yours, boldly nudging your legs with his powerful thighs and giving a playful roll of his slender hips. You wrapped your calves around his hamstrings, bodies close again. His strong hands crept up your body, pinning your wrists in his calloused palm, keeping his grip tight above your head. 

You liked that move. A lot. A lot a lot a lot -

You loved the strength of his body, he worked so hard on it to be able to put it through the rigours of his job daily and showed it off with pride. But what impressed you most was how his mind worked, you knew almost instantly he was a thinker and in those first few dates, casual and a little more intimate, he was always so much more interested in your life than indulging in his own. He said repeatedly that he didn’t want to bore you with what he did and did everything in his power to learn all about you. You’d never met a guy so keen to just listen.

Although it didn’t stop your mind from thinking about his life, his favourite food, what his favourite TV show was (but you were gathering from his penchant for sports, it was SportsCenter. Also not a dealbreaker, although he was a Lakers fan… and you were not), what made him tick… what turned him on - 

His sweet lips kissed the corner of your mouth, ducking lower to your throat as your head instinctively rolled away, opening your pulse to him as he chuckled quietly, his gleaming teeth tenderly gnawing at the soft flesh and he could feel your pulse race under his touch. 

“You’re not sore from last night?” he asked cautiously as the flashes of position after position of the night flashed in your brain. All delicious and your body, you’d admit, was a little on the sensitive side but you were not complaining. He’d given you everything, soft, sweet, rough. And something you didn’t know you’d been craving… he gave you control and watching him fall apart underneath you was a thing of beauty as you rode him. Face, cock, he was in the front-row dedicated sonnets to you. 

“I am a bit…” you told him, a little bashful. But what a sweet sting.

“Where? Tell me, use your words…” he said, his breath hot against your nipple as he kissed with hot, slippery open mouth kisses, eyes big as he studied you. “Here?” 

Not one single per cent irritated. You giggled in response. Giggled. What the fuck was he dragging out of you?

“How ‘bout here?” his tongue trailed between your ribs and his dark eyes stared back up at you.

“Oh, my God,” you couldn’t find the words and you moaned beneath him, almost struggling to get out of his stronghold to at least hold him back. 

“Take that as a no…” he teasingly muttered to himself, his teeth leaving a gentle mark on your hip. “Here?” 

“No,” you swallowed, as his strong nose traced to your belly button and he gazed up, his flushed face covered in sin, and his tongue dipped into your belly button. “I want you, Bradley…” you finally found the courage to say. You were the first to admit, you could be a bit bashful in a situation like this and unfortunately, Bradley was otherworldly hot and it was hard to get the words out. “Bradley, Bradley…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, releasing your wrists as wriggled your wrists and tangled your fingers in his messy curls. “I need breakfast,” he said, moving to his tummy flat on the bed and his calloused palms sliding under your thighs, resting them over his brawny, golden shoulders. You were completely at his whim as his long finger ran through your juices. He hummed satisfied and his silky tongue lapped at your cunt, and he was just so keen to please, encouraged by your waves of pleasure as he rutted his hips deep into the mattress, needing respite himself.

“Wanna make it a really good mornin’?” he asked the most obvious question in the history of the universe. 

“Yes, God yes,” you said almost too eagerly, and you knew you should have been ashamed, but how could you when he showered you in attention and affection like he did? He chuckled into your skin, his tongue and lips indulging your skin in goose pimples, climbing up your body again to kiss you, tasting yourself on him as his hips slowly rolled into yours and he used his free hand to delicately place the head of head cock at your weeping core. 

“That was emphatic, sweetheart,” he teased, pouring wet kisses across your breasts, his slick tongue circling your begging nipple as you writhed beneath him, demanding a little more friction. “Okay, okay, you are just gagging for cock, aren’t you?” 

And yes, you were. Long, proud and girthy, Bradley Bradshaw had not a single thing to be concerned about. The jokes of his callsign ringing in your ears, the size of his cock, his penchant for early mornings (he in fact hated early mornings, he just liked to get to the gym early and prep his body for the day, which you found perfectly reasonable) and the many connotations of it, but the joke was on everyone else who didn’t get to feel this fucking good. 

The way his hips rolled into you was bliss. He kissed you deeply as he fucked into you, your body trapped under his begging for release. His hips so fluid and smooth in their movement, you usually needed a little manual stimulation to get to orgasm but not with Bradley as you muttered in his ear that you were close and you guided his big hands into your tits, begging you don’t forget about them and he seemed to call up to the challenge, changing his position slightly to get that little bit deeper within you, because… of course, he could find your g-spot like it wasn’t even a challenge to him.

Was there nothing he couldn’t do? 

He moved his kiss to your nipple, lapping and sucking like a madman. “You’re so tight and wet, sweetheart. Lemme hear you, huh?” He encouraged you, grinding deeply within you and the feral growl from him as you milked him, pussy throbbing around him as you pulled him closer to you, not wanting him to miss out on a drop of the divinity he was giving you, you loved coming on his perfect cock, just bliss as he groaned, trying to take every ounce from you. “Good girl... 'm comin',” he murmured against your mouth, his hips faulting as they sped up, unable to hold on as he came wildly. He gave his last few thrusts before collapsing above you and you wrapped your legs around him, not letting him go anywhere. He laughed quietly. “Got me in a tangle here.”

“Got anywhere to be?” you hissed back in a tease. 

He gave you a thoughtful glance. “No, actually. Got nowhere else to be…” he pecked your lips, his moustache tickling. “Now how you feelin’?”

“Pretty fucked,” you admitted as he grinned wide, nudging your nose with his and he gently rolled you both to your sides and face each other. He refused to pull out and you knew you had a mess on your hands soon. 

“Is that a good thing?”

“A very, very good thing,” you confirmed and if the stars shone out of your eyes, who were you to argue as you both snuggled together, neither willing to move just yet. And that suited you just fine. He made you feel warm, protected and as he kissed your forehead… a little like you were in love - -

A while later, showered and presentable although you still felt like your whole outlook screamed sensationally fucked all night and morning, Bradley admitted he needed food and could be a bit of a grouch if he got too hungry when you both finally rolled out of bed for separate showers. “I don’t know what time it is. I can’t find my fuckin’ watch,” he called from the bedroom. "Or my damn phone, though I think that's dead..."

“Under the bedside table?” you asked him.

“Ah. Found 'em,” he replied, a little relieved. “I feel we’ve lost most of the morning. Brunch or early lunch?” he asked, approaching you from the bedroom after his shower in the same clothes he arrived in yesterday, smelling a little like your sweet antiperspirant. His strong hands grasped at your hips as you bent over the dishwasher, putting last night’s dirty dishes that were all but forgotten to the wild make-out session while you attempted a movie after dinner. A farcical ruse if you’d ever heard one, but hey, it was worth your tender upper lip and the extra care you’d devoted to this morning and light concealer couldn’t fix the light irritation his moustache could cause. Frankly, he was such a good kisser… just thinking about his lips on yours made your head swim again and probably always would.

It felt like you were falling in love, you reasoned with yourself, and you probably were. But with what Bradley did, you were keeping a gentle, considerate barrier up. Mostly to save yourself if he wasn’t as into you as you were him… or that nagging feeling you couldn’t drop the whole time he was away, that he may not come back. Bradley was the total package, sweet, sexy, smart… sexy, funny. Sexy. He managed to tick all the boxes and in the short time you knew him, you were certainly falling head over heels. 

You weren’t really clear how he was feeling but he was texting you as soon as his boat was coming into reception and asked if he could see you the night he was home so you begged that meant something. It was three months of not hearing from him, and he told you it would be difficult but he’d try. You Facetimed once, but it was innocuous. There was nothing committal, more his exercises and manoeuvres, life at sea, his jet and how he was excited to get home when it happened. 

“Brunch sounds good,” you said, straightening and he pulled your back to his chest, his strong palms drifting up and down your sides pressing into the soft flesh. “Do you have a place in mind?”

“I dunno,” he admitted. “I’ll let you guide me.” 

You had the perfect place. “There’s a cafe around the corner that has the best chilli eggs scramble,” your tummy grumbled eagerly. 

“Fuel,” he teased, his teeth chewing on your earlobe as your knees started to wobble and Bradley brought you back against his chest, his hands deliberately turning you at the waist and his frame trapping you against the sink.

“Fuel?” you played dumb.

His lip quirked into a smirk and if you didn’t see the devil twinkle in his honey-coloured eyes… “You know what I like most about you?” he asked, barely breathing above a whisper.

“What?” you asked, your heart racing as his face hovered closer over yours.

“That you can see right through me and you think I don’t know.”

You bit back a grin of your own. “Well, I have to keep some secrets, don’t I?”

He hummed. “I bet,” and he kissed you again because if there was anything you were sure of, it was that no, you weren’t falling in love with Bradley Bradshaw. No. 

You were in love with Bradley Bradshaw. 

After breakfast, your lazy Sunday continued with a stroll through the local farmer’s market. You followed Bradley from stall to stall, admitting he’d never actually been to one but all the food trucks were awesome (he didn’t get much time to explore the phenom in his line of work and lack of real downtime. You had gotten the notion he willingly threw himself into his work but hadn’t verbalised it to him yet), and as someone who professed he enjoyed cooking, he was so excited by some of the produce, he couldn’t wait. He probably tried everything the vendors made available to taste test and the way his eyes rolled back into his head as he devoured probably more fresh blueberries than he should have was honestly? Adorable. 

“Wait here,” he said, handing you a punnet of strawberries he was munching on. “Be right back,” he trotted away and you lost him momentarily in the throng of people. Not too concerned, you busied yourself petting a few dogs you’d gotten tangled in leads of, but you couldn’t contain the grin on your face when he reappeared a few moments later, a bouquet of colourful bulbs in his hand, offered to you.

You liked farmer’s market Bradley.

“You’re the sweetest,” you said, extremely touched and accepting the flowers. They were gorgeous, but this wasn’t a few stems, this was enough for vases spread around the entire house. You touched his chest and clasped his white v-neck tee, bringing his face down to yours and kissing him just that little hungrier than you’d been kissing earlier. 

He giggled against your lips, his rough hands pressing into your ribs, massaging with his thumbs. “I’ll get you flowers every day if the response is this visceral.”

God, you wanted him. You wanted him everywhere.

Forehead to forehead, you momentarily lost the outside world and all you could see was him.

“I’ll have to make you blueberry pancakes next time to thank you…” you told him as he nodded, lips pursed and trying not to get too excited.

“Is this where I tell you I was a runner up in a state pancake eating challenge when I was 19?” he asked, giving you a cute side eye, acutely aware he was indulging something that was deeply personal from his past. He’d admitted he was always a bit uncomfortable talking about his childhood and teen years, with his family trauma and all. 

“Runner up?” you asked, somewhat impressed.

“Yup,” he eased a little, his large, warm hand sliding his fingers between yours, his thumb delicately rubbing against your wrist. “You’d think it would put me off pancakes, but nope,” he popped the P, giggling quietly.

“And you weren’t sick?” 

“Well, yeah. I’d just eaten my body weight in pancakes,” he explained. “I thought it was invincible then,” he said. “As I get older, I realise how untrue that is,” he said, leading you tenderly again.

“Do you get scared doing what you do?” you asked a little suddenly. Because even though you’d known him a short time, you’d realised what he did simply terrified you. It all seemed so second nature, but he’d flown into war zones, carried weapons that were made for the ultimate destruction and spent so much time away, that you suddenly felt very silly about it all. 

“I do sometimes,” he admitted. “I’ve flown in some missions that I was sure I wasn’t going to come home from,” he gripped your hand that little bit tighter as he went over to a butcher. “Steak?” he asked, turning his gaze to the small selection in front of you.

“Sure,” you said, a little rattled still at his last statements about him thinking about not coming home to you - well, home. It was presumptuous to think… well, you. You watched as he bandied with the vendor, chuckling at the choice and cuts of meat before you and while you were stuck in your head, he was suddenly before you again, a gentle smile upon his handsome features. 

“Earth to my sweetheart…” he sang quietly and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, dragging you in for a lovely cuddle. He kissed your hair, but you didn’t know how he let the sweet waft of your shampoo overwhelm his senses. “Sweetheart,” he sang. “Are you here on earth with me?”

And you wanted to say no, you wanted to tell him this all felt like such a good goddamn dream, you hoped you’d never wake up. “I’m with you,” you felt yourself saying as you wrapped your arms around him, slipping around his slender waist, your fingers daintily dipping under his casual white tee, drifting against the soft skin of his lower back, and you could feel him shudder under your touch. 

“I like that,” he murmured to you and only you, his hand tenderly grasping your jaw and kissing you. Kissing you thoroughly, like you weren’t in a local park, surrounded by all types as you got lost in each other. A kiss so simply sweet that your heart raced. “I don’t know what you’re doing, sweetheart, but you’re winning me over like no one ever before.” 

Blinking out of the kiss in the late morning sun, you watched as he licked his lips, peering down at you like he didn’t believe it was real.

“Bradley, this feels like a dream,” you admitted shyly. And although he didn’t answer, the way his lips danced into a small grin told you that it may not have been just you that felt like this. “You’re a dream.”

He shook his head slowly and every movement he made was like slow motion as he left his hands run down your body, a hand drifting down your arms to hold your hand again. Your hand fit perfectly in his, guiding you towards your car in the car park. And you followed because your thought process, all ability to think on your own, faded slowly, the more you spent time with him. 

As you met him at the car, he placed you under his body and the driver’s side door, secure and unable to escape as he pulled his aviators from his eyes and he lifted your sunnies too. “You’re perfect; I need you to know that I really am having fun and enjoy spending time with you.”

You pressed your hands into his chest, firm and sturdy, and all you could see was him. “I really like you, Bradley.”

“I really like you too,” he laughed to himself. “Maybe even like like.” 

It all felt so elementary, but even if you were in love, and with each passing minute you realised you were in fact, in love with Bradley Bradshaw. But saying those words before him? Never. You’d live with like like for now. 

“Take me on an adventure,” he said, clicking the car remote key in your hand and you slipped into the driver’s side, and he raced to the passenger side. Take him on an adventure… he lived a wild life. How could you impress him? It was nearly midday… and by your calculations, you needed 90 minutes to get to the Happiest Place on Earth (with a detour to drop your market items in the fridge at home). You grinned at him as he looked back at you with a keen interest. He could see your mind work and he chuckled quietly. 

“Okay.”

“You don’t like adrenaline rides?” you asked incredulously. “You fly billion-dollar fighter jets for a living for extended periods of your day and this scares you?” you could feel amused laughter bubbling under the surface as you covered your mouth with your hands. And he looked so ridiculous with his Mickey ears you purchased for him on the way in and wide eyes.

“Well, I am in complete control of that jet,” he reminded you sternly, posture tight and standing to his full height. He was so, so tall and so handsome, even with the ridiculous ears you’d christened him with as soon as you entered the park. 

“This is, like, 60 seconds. 90 seconds max.”

“Nothing good comes in that amount of time,” and you could feel the smarminess in his tone as you cackled, dumping the ice cream in your hand in the passing bin and you dragged him into the ride line. You probably had 10-15 minutes to wait if you were lucky but you didn’t have the time to waste, you needed to get Bradley on as many rides as possible and you were a bit of a thrill seeker yourself. Guardians of the Galaxy awaited.

“How about I just take you up in my plane?” he offered as he watched you, giddy, on your toes. You laughed and told him a simple “no, thanks”. “I’m sure I could get some kind of clearance,” he rested his hands on your hips as he waited patiently behind you. 

“I’m about 99% sure that, no, in no world, you could ever get clearance for me to go up in your jet,” you let that laughter spill as he rested his lips on your clavicle and the huff of heat from his breath against your neck told you that you were probably right. “Where would I even sit?” You humoured him.

“On my lap,” he said. “Keeping me nice an’ cozy.”

Ridiculous. “And how would you see around me if I’m keeping your lap nice and cozy?”

“I’d make do. Always do.”

“Use the gear stick?”

He laughed at your loose interpretation of his jet’s controls you used but replied anyway, “Pretty sure I could just work through it,” from behind you he closed the distance from his belly to your back, easing you against him. “Pretty good with most things between my legs.”

You eased back and giggled gently. “There are families here…” you hinted.

“Don’t care,” you could feel his grin against your skin as his hands firmed around your waist, dragging you flush against his chest and like a constrictor, wrapping his muscular arms around your torso. “Just keeping you safe in the line for the ride,” the tip of his nose drifted to the shell of your ear and you melted against him. “You just never know what’s lurking around the corner these days…” 

“You’re trouble, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Home hours later, the sun had set by the time you’d arrived back at your villa, dark as you entered the house. Bradley crowded you as you unlocked the door and he stumbled in behind you, a mess of limbs and tongues as he thanked you for the unplanned afternoon. You clutched the ridiculous photo from the ride that proved Bradley didn’t enjoy cheap thrill rides in the slightest. Your hand thrust up in the air giving a peace sign, awaiting the flash and sheer terror rang in his eyes, anticipating the next drop. It was hilarious and it was going straight up on the fridge as a reminder of your wildly fun, completely unplanned day.

You had grown so close so quickly and yes, today proved you were ruthlessly in love with Bradley. And as he kissed you, holding your body so close like you were one person, you weren’t sure how you could go back to the person you were before you met him.

He’d empirically changed your DNA, the beat of your heart and the permanency of the smile on your face.

“Come on,” he pulled back a little. “Let me make you dinner. You must be starved.”

“Dinner?” all the air in your head was dizzying and you didn’t even think about eating even if you muttered the whole trip home how hungry you were. 

“You know those steaks I got today? The veggies?” he teased. 

“You’re gonna cook for me?” you were a little touched, stumbling behind him as he led you to the kitchen, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips as you watched the rippling curve of his shoulders and traps. How were you ever going to get over him, you thought sadly.

“Of course,” he said, hitching you into the corner of the bench, pushing between your thighs and smiling, a gentle sigh escaping your lips. “Workin’ on the romance up in here,” he teased, touching your lower lip with his thumb. “I really had a great day today,” he confided, low.

“Me too,” you admitted, watching his lips keenly. 

“I’m gonna have to head back to the old man’s tonight…” he said softly. He was staying in town with his dad (of sorts), who you’d come to learn to be Mav. You didn’t know too much about him, or Bradley’s family aside from when he confided he was an orphan just before he turned 18 . You figured it was probably the main reason why you knew very little about him. “My clothes and stuff are there.” 

“You coming back?” you asked gently, not wanting to assume anything.

“I don’t want to impose…” he said. “I know you have work tomorrow morning.” 

“You can completely impose,” you reassure him as his face broke into a shy smile, a little bit of relief washing over him, cutting the tension of the close proximity. “Look… I know this is new and fast, even though it feels so slow with me being away. I really like like spending time with you.” 

“Like like…” you sighed quietly, ducking your eyes and while you teasingly mocked him, you prayed he may graduate to love and not leave you out on the ledge exposed and alone, believing it was only you feeling like this. No one liked feeling vulnerable in new relationships, but you needed to get a gauge on where he was. If he was swept up like you were. There was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that it was too fast, that you’d fallen too quick and for a man who demanded speed… he didn’t feel the same. You’d be okay with that, but you’d have to pull the breaks too.

“Do I need to say the words?” his voice so low, his usual air of confidence gone and pretences dropped. He seemed so soft, and willing as he tenderly kissed you, his fingers lacing into your hair, a tender tug as you gasped against his lips. “I think I’m in love with you. And I know it’s so fuckin’ quick, but it doesn’t change that I want you. That I need you…” he said so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him. 

And the words got caught in your throat as his honey-coloured eyes searched yours, desperate for your reply. 

“But if you’re not ready to say it back, that’s o - - ”

“I love you too, Bradley,” you told him as the flush in his cheeks deepened as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah?” 

“I do,” you nodded, softly as he cupped your chin and grinned. He may have been holding his breath as the huff of laughter fanned against your face and he kissed you. 

“I don’t know how this has happened, I wasn’t expecting this when we met,” he whispered, tilting his forehead to rest against yours. "Be mine?"

“I'm yours,” and now that you’d found him, you weren’t letting him go. 

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[mayullla]

Hello hello, good day/evening to you, hope ur week has been fine!

May I request (if its still open?) Yan!Baizhu with fem reader? It's rare to see someone write for him after all 🦋🌷 thank you

Title: Gold Rings

Character(s): Baizhu (Genshin Impact) Summary: You didn't remember your fiance after you fell from the cliff and were rescued but he continued to stay by your side as your doctor. Warnings/tags: Yandere Baizhu x amnesia fem!reader, manipulation, 2k word count

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

You stared at the ceiling, made of brown wood, but found nothing interesting. Awake with nothing to do, you could not help but raise your left hand at the ceiling, reaching for something that wasn't there.

You weren't sure what you were reaching for.

But all you could do was stare at the ring on your finger. A thin gold band reflected the sunset light from the window.

You remember nothing. Nothing at all.

You were still healing; your body ached in pain if you moved too suddenly, even when most of it was somewhat healed. It was hard to stay still, frustrating as you tried to remember the past, as if you were trying to reach the fringes of the past yet barely able to touch it.

"You should rest, my dear." You almost jumped, startled at the calm yet disappointed voice. It wasn't loud, but after staying in the room alone for a long time, your ears were sensitive to his voice. "I brought you some food. Have you slept well?" the voice asked.

You recognized that voice somewhat, not as a voice that you heard in the past that you could not remember, but it was the first voice you heard after waking up in this room. Dropping your hand to the side of the mattress, you pushed yourself up slowly with his help. Sudden movements made you dizzy, which you had to learn the hard way. Looking up again, you looked into his golden eyes, slit pupils. His eyes almost reminded you of that of a snake.

"Y-yes," you told him, nodding your head slowly, which prompted a smile on his lips and a crinkle in his eyes. "Ah, that is good. A good rest is always needed when you are sick," he told you as he took the stool that was beside your bed and took a seat on it, placing the food tray on his lap. You had to think for a moment... What was his name..? He had told you before, but it had escaped your mind for a moment as you blinked owlishly at him.

“Hmmm?” He looked at you, tilting his head as if wondering why you were staring at him like that.

Baizhu.

Baizhu... you thought to yourself, a hidden delight that you were able to remember his name when you didn't remember much else. He... he was your doctor.

And the man to whom you were engaged.

He was the first person you saw when you opened your eyes, right beside you, sleeping on the chair with his head on top of his crossed arms on top of the bed. You saw the dark circles under his eyes and his pitiful state. Yet your awkward movements caused him to get up, his eyes wide like saucers as he held your hand, crying and pained.

You didn't remember much after that, forced to go back to sleep still too tired. But you remembered the shock and pain in his eyes when he saw the confusion in your eyes as you looked at him. The question of who he was looked like you had shattered him greatly, yet he kept up the act of someone strong. Asking you questions like your name and who you were, most of which you were able to answer. He asked you if you knew how you ended up here, but you didn't remember that.

He tried to be as gentle as possible with the news. Amnesia. You were out and about collecting herbs in horrible weather in the high cliffs of Liyue, where you had a slip and fell, tumbling down a small cliff. Thankfully, you were just smart enough not to head to the steep cliffs, for if you fell from the high mountains, you would have probably died.

Baizhu was kind... too kind, in fact, you thought to yourself, feeling nothing more than a stranger. You didn't understand his kindness when there were no memories to back up the overly kind gestures. Most doctors would not go to this point, to be fair, kind... They didn't try to see their patients almost every hour, every day.

But you also felt guilty.

Because even though you didn't understand the reason, there was a reason why he acted like this. You still remember the pain in his eyes when he realized that you didn't remember the time spent with him, his love, or your own love towards him. He barely covered up all his pain with a smile and his glasses, with the snake around his neck observing him as you looked at him with guilt.

You lived alone in the harbor of Liyue, having moved here and stayed for a long while now. Baizhu told you that you worked for him, with Qiqi collecting herbs and medicinal flowers for ingredients for medicines and remedies. Baizhu said that you were a hard-working person and that sometimes you would help at the pharmacy too.

"I could make some time and head to your home again today. I tried to look for your diary, but even when I looked everywhere, I wasn't able to find it," Baizhu said with a sorrowful expression. You had asked him to send someone to fetch your diary so that you could see your own past that you had written.

However, it was not found.

You shook your head, telling Baizhu that it was okay. Maybe the diary was with you when you were up in the mountains, as you sometimes took it with you outside. Baizhu looked heartbroken, unable to look at you in the eyes, as the proof that you and he were lovers, other than the rings, was gone. The snake that was wrapped around his neck was not there to cover up the awkward silence between the two of you.

You felt guilty that you didn't remember, unable to remember something that was almost like it didn't happen. Looking at his hand, a ring shined under the light from the candlestick. The sun was setting, and before it got too dark, Baizhu had lit the candle. A simple band, yet the same color as yours. You wondered what your relationship with him was like, how much you showed it outside to the public and inside, how long you had feelings for him, or who confessed first. You do not remember even one thing. Reaching out, you placed your hand on top of his, smiling at him.

You wondered if you should trust him. It would be awkward if not hard to start everything again, but if your relationship with him was real, then you thought that it would not be hard to bring those feelings back again. You remembered the people who visited you, Qiqi, who you remembered was a zombie and had a hard time remembering, talked to you in a way that showed she knew you. She would often hand you some flowers that she picked at the mountain, hoping that you would get well soon. Clearly, that was enough to tell you that you were at the pharmacy often or had multiple trips to the mountain with her collecting herbs.

Not only that, the people who knew you also visited, some friends who stayed by your side. While a little awkward at first, having a hard time sinking in the fact that their friend may not be remembered, many of the memories spent together, while some others were more mature about it and tried to help you whenever they could. They all said the same thing, though, that you were a private person when it came to love, but they were also not surprised by the ring on your hand. Some said that they noticed it before the accident but didn't have the time to comment on it before, as you looked very busy to stop and have a chat about it back then.

They didn't look all that surprised when you told them that Baizhu was your fiancé, as he had told them a little while ago before coming here. They also thought that it was highly likely that it was him of all people. They had seen you two together multiple times before, after all, though not announced as a couple, there was certainly chemistry there, one of them commented.

When you were finally able to go out, many regulars who had to visit the pharmacy often greeted you in surprise when they finally saw you. They had heard of what happened and could only feel sorry as they asked if you were alright. It was there too that people talked about you and Baizhu being together. "It was horrible that such a thing had happened to such a lovely couple," an old grandmother commented. When you asked them to go into more detail, the granny and older ladies all told you in enthusiasm of how cute the two of you were while they watched from the side waiting for their medication.

It was hard to believe, yet the more people talked, the easier it became to believe that you and him were lovers. Your engagement was recent, and you didn't have enough time to tell others about it before the incident.

Baizhu watched as you talked to the elderly who told you many stories of what they saw between you and Baizhu as you listened to them, hesitantly wondering if this was the truth or not. Other than the engagement rings, it must have been difficult to believe that you and him were lovers with hardly enough physical proof. All you had to go with was him and the people's words.

How splendidly did this work in his favor.

You see, you were never his to begin with. You had a lover who lived deep in the mountains, whom you would visit often on your trips. You kept it a secret from everyone. The only reason why he knew when it would have been difficult for him to follow you up high mountains was Qiqi.

Qiqi, after all, was very fond of you and more often than not tried her best to remember moments by writing them in her diary to keep. It wasn't him looking at the small girl's diary that he knew that, but more so a slip of the tongue of some sort. Whenever it was the two of you who went on a trip, Qiqi always came back telling that she had remembered someone talking to you often, also helping her get to flowers that were a little difficult to grab easily due to her height.

It seemed that you had started to take an interest in another man. Baizhu wasn't happy, annoyed more than anything that you had fallen for someone else. Changsheng mocked him for his frustrations, but was startled by his irritated demeanor. It wasn't supposed to show, and most didn't notice, but he supposed those who knew him knew that he was in a very bad mood right now and learned to avoid him unless it was something very important.

Yet before he could do anything drastic, it seemed that the archons had done everything for him instead. You just had to go to him in this heavy storm and hurt yourself. You knew of the storm, yet the feeling just didn't sit right with you as you continued to think about that man. Something was wrong. You left the pharmacy even when Baizhu told you not to leave.

How shocked he was when you came back very injured and with amnesia. Even if he was saddened, scared even, that you were in pain, Baizhu could not help but become a little delighted.

When you looked so worried, your poor, soft, lovely heart was unable to stand the idea that he was hurt when it was all a lie in the first place that he was your fiancé. Changsheng pointed out sarcastically that he was deranged in the head when it came to you. Too sly already, yet when it came to you, it seemed that he was greedy.

And maybe he was, when you were placed right in front of him, how could he not consume his precious little thing’s mind?

[shiorimakibawrites]

Mo Ghrá (Kin Fan Fic)

Words: ~1500 Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Summary: You're on your period and you miss Mikey. Warning: Period symptoms, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, pumpkin obsession Masterlist / A03 Tags: @bellaxgiornata, @shouldbestudying41, @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92

This little story interrupted the writing of "Bound". Guess Mikey wanted a little attention.

Thanks to @shouldbestudying41 for the title suggestion.

Mo Ghrá

You were on the couch, trying to find a position that was comfortable. It was a struggle. Your abdomen was in favor of the fetal position. Your lower back disagreed. Vehemently. Right now you were seeing if on your side, pillows supporting your back and heating pad pressed against your belly, would work.

You hoped so. You were so tired. You had gotten, maybe, two hours of sleep last night. If you added it all up. Yesterday hadn’t been much better. You had called off work, knowing there was no way you were hauling your ass into the office. Not today.

After failing for umpteenth time to find a comfortable position on your bed, you had given up on it. The couch wasn’t much of an improvement. Best thing you could say is that it wasn’t covered in sheets that smelled like stale sweat. You needed to change your bedding but that sounded like far too much work today . . . maybe, if you got lucky, you’d find the energy to fix that before attempting to sleep tonight.

You wished Michael was here. You wanted to bury your face in his chest hair while he rubbed your back with those large, warm hands. You wanted his voice softly murmuring into your hair. But you stayed at your place last night and yesterday night. Like an idiot. You didn’t know what Past You had been thinking. Probably some nonsense about needing to spend some time at your own place since you were still paying rent . . .

But you were also glad that Michael wasn’t here. Because you felt gross. You had scrapped up just enough energy for a shower this morning. But it was the second day of your period. When you had the worst cramps and the heaviest bleeding. So it didn’t take long for the refreshed, clean feeling to disappear.

You whimpered when another cramp ripped through your abdomen. The painkillers were wearing off. Granted, the ibuprofen was barely dulling your cramp pain. And it did absolutely nothing for your headache . . . But it was all you had. In a minute, you would get up and take more. Refill your water bottle while you were up. In a minute . . .

The knock on the door startled you. You weren’t expecting any company. Michael had mentioned something about running errands when you had called him to cancel your lunch date. Another disappointment, you had been looking forward to that date . . . you weren’t going anywhere special. Just the little cafe that you two had discovered that had really good coffee. Really good everything actually. Anna liked it too . . .

Another knock alerted you to that you had gone woolgathering instead of getting up and answering the door. It was tempting to pretend not to be home. But curiosity won out. Reminding yourself that you needed more medicine and water anyway, you wiggled out of your blanket cocoon and stood up.

Your abdomen protested the loss of the heating pad with an enormous cramp. The kind that made you double-up and brought tears to your eyes. It only lasted a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. You slowly straightened back up, then shuffled just as slowly toward the door. You reached it just as a third knock came. Whoever this person was, they were persistent.

You unlocked and opened the door to discover Michael standing here, a soft smile on his handsome, bearded face. “There ya are, pet. I was startin’ to think I had missed ya.”

“Mikey!” you said, torn between delight and embarrassment. You were happy to see him, of course, but you were also a mess. Crazy hair still wet from the shower, wearing old sweats, oversized tee shirt, and one of his hoodies. The one that you had shamelessly stolen from his house the last time you were over there.

Your unattractive messiness felt especially stark today. Michael’s hair and beard was neatly combed. He was wearing jeans, the ones that displayed just how fine that very fine ass of his was. And that sage green sweater that you had bought him, that really brought out those little flecks of green in his eyes, peeked out from under his jacket.

“I thought you were busy today?” You said.

“Just a few things,” he said. “Can I come in, pet? The coffee's gettin’ cold.”

“Coffee?” you repeated, suddenly realizing that one of his hands was occupied. In it was a drink carrier with two coffees in it. Coffees with the name of the little shop written across the cups. You also noticed a small white bag with the same logo dangling from that wrist. A bag that smelled like fresh-baked pumpkin bread.

Your mouth watered. You hadn’t eaten much today. Just lacked the energy and had been vaguely nauseous. You had nibbled on a cereal bar with some tea hoping that it would stay down. It did. But the nausea remained and nothing sounded appealing . . . not until your nose caught a whiff of that pumpkin.

“Pumpkin bread?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “And yer pumpkin spice latte.”

“Really?!”

“I know ya love yer pumpkin,” he said.

He was right. You loved pumpkin. Pumpkin bread. Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin cookies. Pumpkin spice coffee. One of your favorite things about autumn was all the pumpkin things you could find. Michael had teased you about it, said it was very American. You had retorted that his snobbiness about whiskey was very Irish of him.

Remembering that he was still standing on your doorstep and it was a rather brisk autumn day, you moved to the side and ushered him inside. You watched him move through your living room. Particularly when he bent down to put the coffees down on the little table. As predicted, his ass looked incredible in those jeans . . . you felt a spark of irritation at the universe. If only you weren’t on your period right now . .

As if to remind you of that little fact, you got another cramp. It wasn’t quite as bad as the last one but it still had you pressing your hands against your abdomen in a vain attempt to stop the pain. A pointed reminder that you needed to take that ibuprofen and put the heating pad back on. While Michael sliced off a few pieces from the loaf of pumpkin bread, you slipped off to the bathroom to take those painkillers.

“How are ya feelin’ pet?” Michael asked as you settled back on the couch.

“I’m grand,” you said. “Why do you ask?”

While his lips did give an amused twitch at your borrowing of his phrasing, his eyes flickered over to the heating pad and the blanket piled on the couch. “Ya were wincin’”

Of course he had noticed. Michael was nothing if not attentive.

You fidgeted. He had never exhibited any disgust for periods. Never made any crude jokes, reacted with calm practicality every time it had come up. Anna had been more embarrassed by her dad buying her tampons than he had been going to shop to buy them. But your period wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about. You really didn’t want to talk about it with Michael.

For some reason, he seemed to think you were beautiful. And you didn’t want anything to destroy that particular delusion of his.

On the other hand, you didn’t want to lie either. You and Mikey were trying to build something solid here. Something that would last. Honest communication was key to that goal. And . . . well, your periods weren’t going to stop anytime soon.

“It’s just my period,” you muttered, staring at your feet. Your socks didn’t match. One was a bright pink. The other was black. You hadn’t even noticed before now. Tears filled your eyes. Couldn’t even dress yourself properly. You really were a disaster.

“Pet?”

His voice was closer than you expected. It startled you into looking up. Seeing your tears, the concerned frown deepened. “Can I sit with ya?”

You nodded. He sat down next to you, then turned so he was mostly facing you. He held his arms open in clear invitation. One you couldn’t resist. You slide into his arms, borrowing your face into his chest. The sweater might not have been the chest hair you had been craving earlier but you still had his strong arms around you. You had his cologne that smelled like a blend of whiskey, coffee, vanilla along with notes that you couldn’t describe as other than Mikey in your nose. Which was pretty damn good.

It got even better when one of those wonderfully warm hands began massaging your lower back while the other helped maneuver the rest of you into a more comfortable snuggling position. Michael was so warm. He was just as good as your heating pad. Better. Because your heating pad couldn’t murmur sweet nothings into your ear.

One of these days you were going to have to ask him what mo ghrá meant. Everyone had refused to tell you. Just smiled and told you to ask Michael.

You did eventually manage to drink your coffee and eat your slice of pumpkin bread, followed by more snuggles with Mikey. You felt your eyes getting heavy as the combination of comfort and warmth lulled you into sleep. The last thing you felt before you drifted off was lips pressing against your forehead with another soft mo ghrá.

END NOTES

mo ghrá is Irish for "my love".