#i'm trying out some new sharpening settings

[rachelazegler]

You know why redwoods can grow so high? They move and bend with the wind. If you stay rigid, eventually you'll break.

[ambivartence]

"I tried to write lyrics that capture exactly how it feels to live life at my age. I’m really glad I’m 17 when it comes time to make music. That’s why I don’t want to let go of being a kid just yet." (via Weverse Magazine)

[obeymeluv]

Been thinking about this eel and wanted to explore his character some.

-- Floyd realizing he likes you/falling in love with you --

Not proofread because it's late.

I was going to add two more but I'm tired and wanted to put something out.

Trying to decide if I'm going to put out more new stuff or circle back around to older stuff.

I.

Floyd is used to things being in black and white. No nuances. It's like survival of the fittest--you live or you die. You're living in one of the harshest environments and his brain is constantly circling back to HOW? It baffles him because you have no claws, your teeth aren't designed for raw catching, and he hasn't met a lander alive that could run fast enough to catch their food unless it was near death.

So HOW are you doing this with no magic?

Under the sea if you couldn't provide for yourself, you made yourself useful. If you worked for his family, that meant serving as muscle or as an informant. You looked better for getting information out of people than you did squeezing them.

Well, not the way he and Jade squeezed people, anyways. You squeezed them with kindness.

Yeah, he'd heard rumors that you were doing odd little jobs like the Savanaclaw runt. Mostly making little lunches and snacks. Sometimes you'd do a 'dorm night dinner' where you went over to another dorm and cooked!

Azul had been begging you to cook for the Lounge, to do a limited-time meal deal, but you could make more money cooking for the dorms. It was funny to see the Octomer practically foaming at the mouth as he tried to calculate earnings versus an enticing deal to get said earnings.

As long as they're not doing anything else, Floyd's relaxed eyes sharpened as his brows knotted together in a suggestion of annoyance. But why did he care, right? The law of the ocean, of the mers, was doing what you needed to do, right?

Why did it bug him so much? He knew you weren't doing anything else but why did the idea that you would--or could--make him want to take someone down in a death spiral?

The spaces between his fingers began to itch as the webbing threatened to emerge.

You shuffle your way into History of Magic wearing something that Crowley slapped together; it doesn't fit you as well as it could but Trein is the last one to make an issue of it. Floyd's gold eye twinkles with interest as he spots the cup in your hand. He likes to think the tea he smells is from Jade since you work at the Lounge with them but it could also be from Kalim or Goldfishy.

The fact that you can have tea, a small luxury in this foreign world, impresses him.

Yes, you do quite well, don't you?

"Hey Floyd," you sit down with a sleepy smile, setting out your meager supplies before holding the cup happily in both hands.

Ah. That's how.

Your smile makes him squirmy and he wonders if that's what his prey feels like before they meet his pharyngeal jaws.

---

II.

He only gets into fights because he's bored. Usually. Every now and then he and Jade will be called down to the Coral to help their father with a 'business venture'; that's an exception. The only other exception is when Azul sends them on a 'last call' visit.

Except for the occasions where he and Jade defended Azul himself, of course. That was way back in their childhood when he and Jade would terrorize the absolute shit out of those hateful mer-brats! Memories of pulling their scales off without getting caught or biting chunks out of their pretty tailfins when trying to go after smaller fish bring a smile to his lips.

Today he found a fourth reason he didn't expect: you.

He wasn't surprised to see Savanaclaw harassing you, not totally. These beastmen were at the mercy of their instincts and traits, too. Mainly stupidity, but having creature influence didn't always help things.

Just like he couldn't help himself from striking when it was convenient. When he was sure he couldn't lose. Moray eels were consumed with cowardice unless conditions were favorable and on land all fights were in his favor. The beastmen were strong, sure, and physically fit but there was a difference between being built for power and built for speed.

Jade may have taken to his land legs first but Floyd was still nimbler than people gave him credit for. The long legs were deceptive, he knew. It also helped that he spent a lifetime in the Coral where the sea sculpted muscle and got him used to dealing with a resistance that didn't exist on land.

"Kinda dumb to mess with the hand that feeds ya, huh?"

Leona would have their ASSES if he knew they were corning you and trying to bully you. Maybe cop a feel? Floyd swung his fist forward the second one of them turned their head to acknowledge him and it was one.

It was a blur but he was used to that. The Coral had obscuring kelp beds, bursts of water carrying all kinds of debris, and seafloor sediment that provided nice cover when needed.

All you needed were teeth and claws. And the scent of blood.

One of them was bound to get a good lick in. He'd be disappointed if they didn't, honestly. The one who tried to grab his earring would know he did something wrong tomorrow; at least two of his fingers were broken. Broken fingers don't matter to an unconscious guy, though.

"I didn't need your help!" you're glaring up at him. Floyd can't help but laugh. He blinks blood out of his eye. Somewhere near his eyebrow there's a wound throbbing.

"'Course ya did, shrimpy!" Floyd leans towards you, genuine smile showcasing pointy teeth.

"No, I didn't! They were starting to back off!" you hiss, pointing up at him.

"And now they're all the way off." Floyd shrugged, poking one with his foot.

"I'm telling Jade," you scoff. You both know Azul won't let him into the Lounge like this. Floyd detests the infirmary and had to be dragged there when he fell ill with his first stomach bug (Jade and Azul thought he was dying). The nurse gets on his case and the area smells too clean and chemical-y for his liking.

He flops down, waiting patiently and highly amused as you rummage through your thrift shop bag for medical supplies. You'd learned to start carrying stuff on you between Grim's overzealous fire-casting and Riddle's overblot. Floyd hums contentedly as you blot his face, nose wrinkling reflexively when he smells the alcohol wipe. You dab ointment on the wound above his eyebrow, scoffing and pulling his chin out of the crook of your elbow. Floyd snorts, pressing his cheek against your arm.

You smack a band-aid over the wound and he clicks his teeth as you glide your finger over the tender part. "You're such a good shrimpy, taking care of your moray," Floyd teases you, yelping when you pinch his cheek before starting off for the Lounge.

He lets you get a good distance ahead before launching off the ground. "Floyd?! Floyd, no! Stop! Don't do it!" you made the mistake of turning your head to look at him as the grass crunched under his shoes, breaking out into a run.

You shouldn't dart off in front of a predator. That activates the hunting instinct.

His laugh echoes as he catches you effortlessly, scooping you up and throwing you into the air like a toy. "Don't worry shrimpy, I got ya!" Floyd laughs, tossing you again.

---

III.

You're hard to find on your days off and that's really annoying to him. Sometimes Vil whisks you away for a spa day, sometimes you're holed up with that blue-burning recluse playing video games. Floyd has turned up empty-handed more often than not, which is impressive considering he's a hunter by nature.

The prey is illusive. And kind of offending him since you're dating but you're not here right now. He'd come find you if it wasn't that time of the month where they were stuck in their true forms, waiting restlessly for the latest delivery of the transformation potion.

No one knows how it happened, really, not even him. Most mers trade trinkets or hunt for their partners but he didn't do any of that. Not officially. He'd cook you something the second you stepped into the Lounge and comb the waters around Sage's for interesting stuff to give you but you didn't acknowledge those courting attempts so they didn't happen. You thought the way he opened and closed his mouth was just a sign of boredom and never did it back.

So yeah, it took forever for you guys to be a thing by mer standards.

You guys were dating by lander standards, though. Little things like you keeping him awake in class and him walking you to the next. He'd buy you something to put in your hair and you'd wear it the next day. When Azul found out you were the only one who could tie his bowtie without him complaining or undoing it, it was his favorite part of getting ready for a shift. If Crowley wasn't so stingy with the phone he gave you, Floyd would be blowing it up.

He continued his lazy laps in the Octavinelle pool, clicking his teeth and sighing sadly. A moray really shouldn't be without their shrimpy. It was cruel.

As if he'd summoned you, you showed up with a float. It meant you wouldn't be swimming with him today but Floyd could live with that. "Don't even think about it!" you warn, hearing the water pitter behind you as he breaks the surface. Floyd has yanked you in more than once on your 'float' days, blaming it on his predator nature. Leaning down to look through the awkward tent of your arm, one foot splayed across the float and trying to draw it close as you wiggled onto it, you met Floyd's mischievous gaze.

The fins at the side of his head flutter, your boyfriend ducking down until his heterchromatic eyes just touch the water. He pulls strong arms slowly and dramatically from the water, setting them softly on the deck as he flexes the muscles of his hands and lets the light play on his claws. "Think about what?" Floyd can barely get the question out, laughing already. His pupils thin as you successfully push off on the float, sending yourself across the water.

Just like that, he's gone. You peer over the top of your float to keep an eye on the lazy, winding shadow. He moves faster than that, you've seen it! What is he--

"Delightful to see you!" Jade pops up at your back and you yelp, losing your grip on the top of your float. If not for Floyd being on the other side and slinging his corded arms over you, you'd be in the water. He laughs at your near-heart attack and the little scrunch in your nose as water flings all over you. "Sam hasn't gotten our order in, I take it?"

"No," you glare at Jade. "He hasn't."

The calmer twin smiles in his usual unbothered way. You've learned to see the sadistic delight in it now. "I'll let Azul know. We'll be working on things below if you need us. Thanks for keeping my dearest brother company." Jade makes his way down and doesn't miss the chance to flick more water on you with the last bit of tailfin. You hiss, rolling over into Floyd's waiting lips.

"Shrimpy!" he sings, genuine delight slipping into a low purr as he peppers kisses up the side of your face and heaves his slick body onto your float. He's unexpectedly soft due to the weird 'hydration' coat they make. It doesn't dull the prominence of his scales and the feel of scale and slick against your skin makes your spine tingle.

He's either going to drown you or shred your float. You're bobbing in and out of the water, head thrust up to try and keep something dry. Floyd knew your prey instincts would kick in and make you flail; he's practically purring at the fact you've wrapped your arms and legs around him. He throws himself back, arms behind his head.

You relax when you realize he's become your personal float. A float that's very happy with himself. You've ridden on his back before but lying on his chest was new; even with your arms around him it still amazed you how strong his back was. Especially his shoulders.

"Happy?" you lay your cheek on him, eyes drifting along the swirls of blue and teal that surround the whitish-gray of his chest.

"Happy!" Floyd hums.

[clare-875]

OMG, I SUUPPERRR Love the "New Names" Prompt, it was actually what led me to your blog here, the last 3 parts were a blast to read, so I was wondering if you could maybe do a part 4 that includes Kidd, King, Katakuri, and maybe 2 or 3 characters of your choice?

New Names pt.4 (Kid, Katakuri, Smoker)

_____ Pairings: Kidd x Reader; Katakuri x Reader; Smoker x Reader Summary: His reaction when you call him pal, buddy, etc. Warnings: Mostly Fluff, Female Reader A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't watched One Piece up to where King is introduced so I added Smoker instead (I couldn't think of any other characters)! I'm so glad you like the series! [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 1: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law] [Part 2: Shanks, Sabo, Crocodile] [Part 3: Corazon, Killer, Mihawk, Penguin] _____

- Kid -

(A/N: Suggestive towards the end?)

When you decide to play a small prank on your boyfriend it is only later that you find out the consequences you should've regarded beforehand. But in the moment you were too giddy to care. You had finally thought of something not too bad that Kid would kick you off the ship but noticeable enough for him to react. So, when your eyes spotted your boyfriend's signature red hair and permanent frown, you had to struggle to keep the grin from spreading on your face.

You just had to see it through until the end.

He had sauntered in as always, eyes sharp and broad shoulders slouching, his gaze darting to you so subtly you'd have to be an expert to witness it. You are in an open space - the deck of the ship - and so he barely gives you any sign of intimacy but he always prefers to linger by your side. He seems irritated as you had not been beside him for long today, and you soon find out your thoughts are right by his prompt words.

"Babe," his voice is deep in the air but gritted against his teeth. "Here you are, I fucking searched the whole ship for you."

You fight to roll your eyes at his impatience but you concede to the plan you have set out for yourself and reply.

"Sorry buddy, I should've let you know earlier I'd be on deck."

And all of a sudden, you could hear a pin drop.

Promptly, it's like the ocean waves that crash against the ship go silent along with the restless wind in the sails. Your crewmember's voices hush to nothing as they eye you and your Captain, unsure of whether to laugh or cry at your words. All they know is that you are fortunate to be his girlfriend because partner or not, Kid would likely throw anyone off the ship if they called him buddy.

His expression does nothing to hide just that fact.

He had frozen still, his eyes had sharpened deadlier than usual, fists clenched to his side and face darkening. You can see the twitch of his eyebrows and the tensity of his form but are most surprised to see a slight pink hue on his cheeks. Was that embarrassment?

Despite the "dangerous" atmosphere, you have to fight back a laugh.

"Are you alright, buddy?"

Your crew members gape at you, some shaking their heads to try and stop your words. But you are bold. Of course you were, you were dating Eustass Kid.

"What the fuck did you just call me?"

Kid approaches you but then he bears witness to your lips quirking upwards into a sly grin. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you lean back into the chair you sat in, but unbeknownst to you it is then that your boyfriend’s mind clicks.

"Bu-ddy," you reply in a sing-song voice.

The crew are shocked at their Captain's restraint, especially when they see him look like he's ready to murder someone. The funny thing is that he looked like he was ready to kill anyone who wasn't you.

They all collectively take a step back.

However, their shock only amplifies ten-fold when all the pent-up tension fades as Kid's lips turn upwards into a taunting smirk. Killer has to stop himself from putting a hand to his head at everyone’s absurd reactions.

"Now princess, it seems you've forgotten who's actually in charge here."

Your eyes widen in your own surprise at the sudden change in his demeanour. Kid looks at you with his same sharp eyes but his wide smirk shines almost scarily as he approaches you closer. “You think you can get away with pranking your Captain? Cause I don’t think you fucking can babe.” He pulls you to your feet before hoisting you up on his shoulder.

"Hey- okay, I'm sorry! I’m sorry! Kid! Babe, put me down!"

But Kid does not heed your words and instead walks away from the still-gaping crew, intent on having you in his chambers until it is only his name that slips your lips.

- Katakuri -

When you are left alone with your thoughts, you oftentimes come up with ideas that usually incorporate your boyfriend. And today, you found yourself quite alone. You were bored and waiting for Katakuri to come back to you after being sent on a mission to God-knows-where. Luckily, a thought had popped into your mind quite easily and it had intrigued you to see what your boyfriend's reaction would be.

Speaking of which, you could hear heavy footsteps making their way to your door, and sure enough, your stoic boyfriend had knocked, patiently waiting for you to answer. You grin happily despite your plan as you missed him though he has been gone only a few hours. "Coming!" You instantly stand and open your door, smile only brightening at the sight of Katakuri safe and at home. You see his eyes soften as he looks at you.

"Hello love," His words are gentle to you, and you hesitate for only a moment before complying with your plan.

"Hey man, I missed you!"

In a rare moment, you see Katakuri's eyes shine with complete confusion. It is followed by the furrow of his brows as though he thought it was not you speaking to him, but someone else. The expression only lingers for a moment though, and then he looks at you with his usual, serious stare.

"Love..."

You freeze when he looks at you so knowingly, so quickly.

"Y-Yeah man?"

Katakuri sighs before leaning down to your eye level, patience in the depths of his reserved eyes.

"Is this another one of your tricks where I am to be surprised by your words or actions?"

You stop in surprise at how he has figured you out so easily, only now realising he must’ve gotten used to your impromptu pranks when left to your thoughts. You stutter before sighing heavily and rolling your eyes.

"Yes love, it is. You could’ve played along though!”

Your boyfriend looks at you with the same softness in his eyes as he witnesses your pouting face.

“Apologies love,” his words are muttered gently by your ear. He then removes the scarf that covers the lower half of his face, and suddenly he kisses your cheek softly. “I just rather terms of endearment from your lips, rather than man.”

You freeze at his actions and words and all of a sudden it is you who is taken aback as heat rushes to your face. As Katakuri steps past you into your chambers you feel yourself so lost in thought that for a moment, you completely forget about your failed prank. That is until your boyfriend calls for you again.

- Smoker -

Your boyfriend is often preoccupied and busy with the tasks that come with being a high-ranking officer of the Marines. You know the challenges and toils of being one, as you are one yourself. However, that doesn't disregard the fact that you miss him sometimes, as your roles often put distance between the two of you. Today was no different but Smoker would be returning to you soon after a shorter mission than usual, and unbeknownst to him you had come up with a small prank in the short time you were apart.

Your eyes move forward to the sight of a Marine ship approaching port and you fight to contain your grin. Sure enough, you can hear the rowdiness of Smoker's crew and the shouts of Tashigi as they go to dock the ship. When they finally do, they race to solid ground, most of them grinning and others saluting you as they pass. "Hello Vice-Admiral [y/n]!" You simply smile as you await your boyfriend and sure enough, he comes off the ship to you soon after, a nod of acknowledgement as he approaches your side.

"Hello love," he murmurs to you lowly and only so you can hear. You smile at the subtle way his eyes soften slightly, knowing he has missed you too.

"Hey dude, how was your mission?"

As you walk toward headquarters, suddenly you find that Smoker has frozen and his footsteps faltered. You stop and turn to him in mock confusion.

"What's wrong?"

He eyes you carefully as smoke bellows from the cigar in his mouth.

"Dude-?"

He quickly interrupts, the furrow of his brows and twitching of his lips showing you that he has of course noticed and was troubled.

"Who are you talking to right now?" Smoker grumbles to you, still static where he stands. You decide to approach him then, and tilt your head to the side, playing dumb.

"You?"

Smoker grits his teeth, the cigar in his mouth almost snapping in half. He leans down to you, so you see the way his eyes have sharpened.

"I'm sorry love, but I don't answer to dude. I thought you of all people would know that."

Your words stumble at his sudden proximity and you feel the heat wanting to rush to your face.

"I- I don't know what-"

Smoker lifts his hand and flicks your forehead lightly watching in amusement as you stare at him dumbfounded.

"Don't do that again."

He then continues walking but silently waits for you to fall into step beside him once more. He had missed you too much to hear such a platonic term slip your lips. He smiles subtly when you catch up to him once more, a kissable pout to your lips.

[fuctacles]

A gorgeous man walks into a dressing room

for @genderthings Eddie's Gender Week prompt "stage" Steddie | T | 1125 | genderqueer/gender non conforming Eddie | famous Eddie, hair stylist (and drag queen) Steve, first meeting, pre-relationship | Ao3

The new hair stylist walks in on Eddie applying lipstick. Kudos to him, he takes it in stride, placing his bag on the clean area in front of one of the mirrors. 

"The doors were open, so I hope it's okay I just walked in," he says with a tilt of a question in his voice. 

Eddie hums, focused on sharpening the edges around his lips. 

"I'm the new hair stylist, Steve Harrington," the guy introduces himself. "You must be Eddie, right?"

"Ah-hah," Eddie makes an affirmative sound. 

"How can I refer to you?"

"Just Eddie is okay, but if you want to keep it more professional, something like chief or captain is fine. Do not call me boss," Eddie says, moving away from the mirror to gauge the symmetry and not happy with the results so far. 

"No, I mean, do you want to be addressed as a guy? Or something different."

Eddie sometimes forgets that he's in the creative field now, and a lot of other people he meets are more open to gender fuckery and general LGBT themes. They finally look at the new guy, someone they'd usually dismiss as gorgeous but straight, if not for the pearl necklace around his neck. 

"I'm fine with anything, but you can call me anytime."

The silence lingers and as Steve's look sours, Eddie's lips turn up into a grin. 

"What?! It's a good line!" 

"Sure is," Steve rolls his eyes. "Do you need help with that?" he points to the lipstick still clutched in Eddie's hand. "I do drag on the weekends." 

Eddie blanks for long enough for Steve to produce a small make up brush out of somewhere, and pry the lipstick out of his hand. He dabs the brush against the dark red pigment. 

"The secret of sharp edges is using a brush," he explains softly. "It gives you better control of the lines."

Eddie can't say shit when Steve's finger gently holds his chin while he's applying the lipstick in small, precise strokes. He steps back, fixes something, and steps back again before nodding to himself.

"I thinks it's okay now." 

Eddie turns to the mirror to examine their perfectly painted, symmetrical lips. They look up at Steve's reflection. 

"Can you do my eyes, too?" 

Steve can, and gives Eddie an impressive, bold eye make up, apologizing all the time that it's "too draggy". Eddie slaps him about it, and informs him that it's perfect. 

When Corroded Coffin's actual stylist come into the dress room, they just groan at the sight of Eddie's make up and turn their anger at Steve. For a second, the thinks he's going to be fired, but then...

"Give her an updo, something messy but feminine to match the face," the person instructs. Steve only nods to that. "I'll go pick something in the wardrobe."

Steve is a little terrified, but Eddie only beams at him.

"She likes you!" he exclaims happily, gently slapping at Steve's chest. 

"Uh, she didn't seem happy," Steve protests gently, reaching for his actual hair styling kit. 

"Don't worry about it," Eddie waves their hand. "Chrissy is always stressed before a performance, but she likes a challenge. We've been friends forever, so I'd know."

"Okay." Steve pushes Eddie gently so he'll rest against the back of the chair, and turns him to face the mirror, then ties his tool belt around his waist. "I'll trust you on that. Now, I'll try to be gentle, but tell me if I pull too hard." 

Eddie's hair is a bit of a struggle, since the initial plan was to just tease it as usual and let it be. But Steve turns out to be an expert enough to brush it out and up tying it into a high ponytail, with some strands framing his face. He even takes extra time to curl them and set them in place with hair spray. 

When he takes a step back to take in his work, his eyes shine. Not only was he proud with his work, but his model was more than good looking, the make up and hairdo enhancing their features. Their eyes catch in the mirror reflection, but before any of them can say anything, Chrissy is back, carrying a handful of dark fabric. 

"I got a few outfits for you to try on. Steve, could you take care of Gareth's hair?"

"On it!"

Eddie gives him a smile and a finger wave through the mirror, before Chrissy descends on them with the clothing she's picked. Steve doesn't have time to look in their direction, curling Gareth's hair and then giving each of the members a simple version of Eddie's eye to match it. The impromptu make over must have put them behind schedule, because everyone is rushing somewhere before Steve can take a proper look at the end product.

It's only after the lights dim that he's ushered by Chrissy to a booth where the rest of the staff is either taking a break or keeping an eye on their work. As part of the styling team, Steve is on the look out for any hair or wardrobe malfunctions that might need touching up during the set. 

Gareth comes out first, setting a beat with his drums for the others to walk out to. They're dressed pretty much the same as usual, except for Eddie, whose jeans were swapped with a long skirt, its side slits so high the whole thigh is pretty much on display. 

Steve briefly wonders what kind of underwear they're wearing for it not to be visible. 

"Hello Chicago!" Eddie greets the audience through the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, and..." he makes a dramatic pause, eyes scanning the crowd. "Others. A gorgeous man walked into my dressing room today and did my make up." They flip their hair back and angle their face left and right. "What do we think?" The crowd goes wild and Eddie laughs. "Me too. It goes to show, for the best make up and hair tips, go to a drag queen." With another loud cheer from the crowd, Eddie sticks out their tongue playfully and starts off the first song.

They look stunning, with the strands of hair framing their painted face and the long pale legs wearing heavy leather boots. Steve feels like a fraud, because he's getting paid to make the band presentable, but really, Eddie's beauty is doing most of the work for him.

"Did Eddie just call me gorgeous?" he asks absentmindedly, slowly processing everything he's taking in. 

To his right, Chrissy sighs. 

"Please don't take it to HR," she says. 

"What?" Steve gives her a short, surprised glance. "No. No. Unless, there's something against dating the band in my contract?"

beloveds: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

[fawnwilde]

Universal ִֶָ☾.

Javier Escuella x reader

rating: all audiences

You've grown up with the gang, seeing them as your family rather than just companions. In 1895, Dutch brings in a new member, a man named Javier Escuella, who speaks little English.

You're determined to help him learn, but somewhere along the way, you realise that some things are simply universal...

content warning: f reader, no smut, all fluff, pre canon, failed gcse spanish so i'm google translating it, javier adores you, racism (tw: bill), happy endings all round

word count: 5.0k

You remember the day you met Javier Escuella like it was yesterday.

It was the Summer of 1895. The gang was milling about in your makeshift camp, doing chores or enjoying the pleasant weather. Autumn was approaching and the gang was enjoying the last weeks of sunshine, before it turned cold and grey.

Dutch had been gone for a few hours on a reconnaissance, scoping out an abandoned building which was said to be a popular spot for ashamed upperclassmen to meet working girls.

He’d been gone longer than the group had expected, and Hosea had begun to worry. You sat by his side playing dominos, trying to quell his concerns with gentle reassurances.

When Dutch returned, the gang and you were beyond relieved. But he hadn't returned empty handed. Information, some food…

And a stranger in tow.

He was young, no older than twenty one from what you could tell. Covered head to toe in dirt and dressed in ratty clothes, his hair long and unwashed.

He looked around with cautious eyes at the other members of your group, before they finally landed on you.

You thought his eyes were beautiful. A deep brown, smooth and golden like whiskey in the light of the setting sun. He stared at you for a moment, before looking at the floor.

“Everyone, I would like you all to meet Mr Javier Escuella!” Dutch announced, “He’ll be joining us, from now on. Quite the thief, but I reckon we can teach him more.”

Javier Escuella.

His name was dazzling to you, foreign and melodic, especially when spoken in his own voice when he corrected Dutch’s pronunciation.

As other members of the group approached him, such as Arthur and John, introducing themselves and asking questions. Javier answered with ‘yes’s and ‘no’s, growing embarrassed when they asked him harder questions.

It became obvious to you all that Javier did not speak much English, and Hosea made everyone scarce as he calmly took him over to get some stew, allowing the man some peace from the rather hectic band of criminals.

You came to stop by Dutch’s side as Hosea sits Javier at one of the tables.

“Where did you find him?”

“Oh, it's a funny story, my dear.” He chuckles.

You thought as much, listening to Dutch relay the events of their introduction. Your eyes did not leave Javier’s face.

Who is this unusual man?

That had been a few weeks ago now, and Javier had become a great asset to the gang.

He is skilled with a knife, a nimble fighter and a better thief than Dutch gave him credit for. His past remained unknown to you, but you could tell the gods had not dealt him the best cards.

Nevertheless, he's a tough son of a bitch.

Just by standing at his side during jobs, you could tell he is fiercely intelligent, brave, and… well, handsome… but no one needed to know the last part. That’s your secret.

You wanted to truly get to know him, as a friend of course. The only issue to that being the language barrier.

He would sit with Dutch sometimes and listen to him when he read, his focus apt as he tried to learn longer words in the language.

But other than that, he kept mainly to himself.

Javier chose to keep to the outskirts of the group, observing the world in stoic silence. On days where you stood close enough to him, you could hear him humming as he sharpened his knife. But he would stop whenever anyone came close.

He reminded you of a beaten dog in a new home; unsure and distant, growing braver as the days go by. You hoped he would come to think of the gang as a family, as you had.

Only time would tell.

The first time you really interacted with him was one cold night around the campfire.

Everyone is enjoying Pearson’s stew and a few drinks. Uncle plays his banjo, Sean sings merrily, even Arthur and John were in high spirits as they twirl Tilly around in a silly dance that makes everyone laugh and applaud.

What a merry band of fools you run with.

But the mood sours when a drunken Bill Williamson decides to try his hardest to piss everyone off.

“I don’t see why we don't just break in and take it.” Bill grouses, complaining about a robbery Hosea was planning.

Hosea presses his lips together, looking up from his book to stare at the drunken buffoon.

“Because, Mr Williamson, the man who resides there may be alone and old, but he’s known statewide for his experience with weaponry.” Hosea sighs through his nose, “‘Breaking in’ without a plan will surely land us all with bullets where we don't want them. As I have explained thrice.”

Bill scoffs, taking a swig from his bottle.

“Please. Just get the girl there to lift her skirt and get the old coon distracted.” Bill says, nodding at you, “I reckon no man could pass up the chance at a go at her.”

“That’s enough of that.” Hosea warns, voice cold and dangerous.

“What? It ain’t like we’re above using distractions, and it would be a way for her to finally earn her keep.” Bill leans closer to you, running a finger along the bare skin of your arm, “Easier to do it laying on your back, eh, Y/N-?”

You squirm away, and the group falls silent at his words and the clear panic on your face.From across the campfire, Javier suddenly stands up.

“¡Cállate, pendejo!” He snaps, pointing his finger at Bill.

Bill’s jaw drops, blinking at the man before he too stands. Arthur and the Callender brothers also seem to sober up, looking between the two angry men to see if they will need to break up an upcoming fight. Hosea sighs, tiredly.

“The fuck did you say, you slimy brown fuck?!” Bill barks with a sneer.

“!Eres asqueroso, déjala sola! Borracho desperdicio de espacio...” Javier bites back, looking the other man up and down with clear disgust.

“Fuck’s he saying?!”

“He’s telling you to be quiet, and to leave Y/N alone.” Hosea bites, glaring at Bill.

Bill splutters, looking around the group. Upon realising he has no allies in this fight, he storms off, beer bottle in hand.

An awkward, heated silence is left in his wake.

Arthur sighs, patting your shoulder soothingly before he requests another song from Uncle. The rest of the gang goes back to their previous glee the second the music starts up again, argument forgotten.

You look over at your saviour. Javier murmurs something else venomous at Bill’s retreating form, before he sits back down.

He chooses a seat much closer to you than before, which you internally smile at.

His eyes scan the gang, before landing on you a few feet away. He frowns, avoiding your eyes.

“Lo siento, señorita.” He murmurs, scratching his chin with a remorseful expression.

Confused, you look to Hosea for an explanation. The older outlaw regards Javier, before offering you a smile, “He’s apologising, dear. Probably for getting angry.”

“Oh!” You turn back, “It’s okay, Javier. No lo siento, there’s nothing to apologise for. What’s thank you?” You whisper the last part to Hosea.

“Gracias.” Hosea whispers back.

“Gracias, Javier.”

Javier chuckles, offering you a smile, “De nada, princesa.”

The evening continues without a hitch, sans Dutch giving Bill a stern talking to for his vile words towards you.

You try not to notice Javier occasionally looking over at you, but everytime you feel him glance, you have to fight a giddy smile.

Thank god for the campfire hiding your blush.

It’s been a good few months now, since you met the Mexican freedom fighter.

He’s been nothing but respectful to you, greeting you when he passes and keeping a watchful eye whenever Bill has a few too many.

You cannot help but find yourself drawn to Javier, his good looks and his underlying fire luring you in like a moth to a flame.

Others have noticed, namely Hosea, the observant gossip he is.

You have been trying your hardest to keep your growing feelings a secret. But everytime you bring Javier a cup of coffee in the mornings, or when you pay special attention when sewing his shirts, or how you light up when he arrives unscathed from a job, you can see Hosea giving you a knowing grin, wiggling his eyebrows as you blush.

While you enjoy what time you manage to spend with Javier, the language barrier is creating issues for you.

Javier seems to understand English well enough, being able to translate words in his head impressively well. But he’s quiet, and lacks confidence in attempting to speak English for fear of talking nonsensically.

Today is one of those days where he sits in silence, alone at the edge of camp.

He’s frowning down at one of Dutch’s books as he mumbles the words to himself, trying and failing to pronounce them properly.

You watch him from the sidelines as you enjoy your morning coffee, frowning when he huffs and closes the book. The defeat on his face is heartbreaking, and you put down your tin cup to go over to him.

Maybe you can help him with learning. It's the least you can do, for sure.

“Hola, Javier.” You greet, joining his side with an easy smile. Hosea had been kind enough to teach you greetings, which you are appreciative of.

Javier startles, looking up at you and cringing, wondering how much of his failure you had been witness to, “Hola, señorita.”

“I see you’re trying to learn more English.” You muse, keeping your voice light to not make him think you are making fun of him, “Say, would you like me to help you learn the basics?”

Javier blinks up at you, confused by the quick words you threw at him. You internally chastise yourself for speaking so fast, your nerves getting to you.

But Javier translates in his head, and a small smile replaces the somber look on his face.

“Ah… sí, por favor.” He licks his lips, thinking, “Eh, please.”

Internally celebrating the small victory, you sit down beside him.

He offers you the book, and you look over the page he was attempting to learn from. It seems to be an Evelyn Miller read, complicated words typed in a small font. You sigh slightly, this book has words that even you cannot pronounce, no wonder Javier was struggling.

Way to be empathetic, Mr Van Der Linde.

You close the book, giving Javier an encouraging smile while you put the book away, “Let’s try something easier.”

Javier nods, turning his body to face you. Your heart flutters at having his undivided attention, but you ignore it, focusing on the task at hand.

“Alright, I know you know some of the easier words, like ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’.”

“Hello.” Javier parrots, giving you a little wave.

Oh he’s adorable. When he’s not stabbing people, that is.

“That’s the one.” You chuckle, “How about we start with… the weather! “The weather is fine”, what do you think about that?”

Javier stares at you blankly. Perhaps he didn't understand. You gesture to the sky, and put your thumbs up, “The weather is fine.”

“Oh ¿El clima? Si, está bien.” Javier nods, looking up at the clouds.

“El clima está bien.” You say carefully, “The weather is fine.”

“...The weather… is fine.” Javier mimics, the words clunky in his mouth but he nods determinedly, “The weather is fine.”

“Well done.” You smile, “That is the response. I say, ‘how’s the weather?’ You say…”

“... uh- the weather is fine?” He tries, his pronunciation improving already.

“Sí!” You grin, patting his shoulder. Javier nods, murmuring the sentence to himself again before he looks at you.

You look around, trying to find another sentence to teach him, when he stops you.

“You, go.” Javier says, “You.”

“I go?” You ask, confused “I leave?”

“No.” He chuckles, “El clima está bien, en español.”

“You want to teach me Spanish?” You tilt your head, and Javier mimics it, giving you a cheeky grin.

“Sí, we learn.” He laughs, pointing between you two with a cheeky grin.

Across the way, Hosea and Dutch watch the interaction, entertained and smiling as they murmur to one another.

You chuckle, “Okay, how do I ask?”

Javier clears his throat, “¿Cómo está el clima?”

“¿Cómo está el clima?” You try, and Javier nods vigorously.

“El clima está bien.” He responds. “The weather is fine.”

“Ok.” You grin, ”How is the weather, again?”

“The weather is fine. ¿Cómo está el clima?”

“El clima está bien.” You say confidently, rewarded by Javier's smile.

You’re practically giddy, happy the lesson is going so well. Javier joins you in smiling, watching your face with a soft look.

Across the camp, Dutch and Hosea exchange knowing smiles.

While you reiterate the new Spanish you learned, Uncle stumbles past, uttering mornings to you both. You nudge Javier, who swallows before clearing his throat.

“The weather, is fine.” Javier says sternly.

Uncle blinks at him, before looking up, “That it is, fella, that it is.”

You clap Javier’s first lesson. Javier doesn't bother to hide his proud smile.

Javier was proving to be a better student than you were expecting.

Hosea had given you a book on nature and foraging after you had complained to him about Dutch’s choice of learning material.

“Evelyn Miller? That man is a sadist.” Hosea grumbled to you, “Dutch, do you not want him to learn?!”

It had been funny watching the two of the gang's leaders argue like an old married couple.

Every day, you and Javier would learn over coffee. The book happened to be fantastic for teaching your new friend all kinds of words and how to string sentences.

Now, Javier could easily hold a conversation in English with most members of the gang.

After a particularly bad day, one where Javier had had to go on a job with Bill, you taught him some swears as well.

“Pendejo… you son of a bitch!” Javier had yelled clunkily. It had clearly been worth the fistfight between them, based on Javier’s knowing smile thrown your way after Bill was dragged away.

You’re the proudest teacher.

But the world was not limited to your merry band of outlaws. The gang members were often very patient with Javier, letting him stumble and ignoring mistakes in his grammar to not embarrass him (or receive a knife to the face)

So you decided it was time for some field practise.

On a cold day in Winter, the two of you stand in front of a saloon in the city, people watching while you casually practise conversation.

The topic of today was the basics of pleasantries and being nice. Hosea had asked you to teach Javier how to smooth talk, and you had decided that today he would practise his charm on the English speakers of Blackwater.

You hoped to find an individual in need of a knight in shining armour, so Javier could help them and practise on a new soul.

An older woman across the way had her arms full of shopping bags, frowning as she tried to lift them into her wagon, with little success.

Perfect.

“She’s the one.” You point her out to Javier, who nods, “Now, ‘it would be my pleasure’, try it.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He grits out, rolling his eyes, “What a lie. I take no pleasure in helping these people.”

You giggle, nudging him, “Shut up, you’re a sweetheart really.”

Javier waves you off, before heading over to the struggling woman. He stands behind her awkwardly for a moment, before clearing his throat.

“Could I assist you, miss.” He asks, causing the woman to turn around and look at him.

“Oh!” The woman smiles, sighing in relief, “If you wouldn't mind, sir.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Javier takes the womans bags, lifting them effortlessly up to her wagon. He even offers her his hand, helping her up to sit at the drivers seat.

She thanks him and bids him a good day, and he tips his hat to her.

You curtsy at him as he approaches, “Look at you. A regular American gentleman.”

“You know better than that, princesa.” Javier chuckles, reaching into his pocket and showing you the woman's bracelet, masterfully stolen while he helped her onto the wagon.

“Javier Escuella, what will I do with you?” You laugh, swatting his shoulder.

He catches your hand carefully, before turning your wrist around and clasping the bracelet around it. His fingers are warm to the touch, comforting in the cold weather. With the bracelet attached, he nods his head proudly, holding on to your wrist for a moment longer before spelling back.

You blush, looking down at sparkling jewellery, stolen for you by the man of your dreams.

Lord have mercy.

Trying to avoid Javier’s eyes, you murmur out, “Gracias, Javier.”

He smiles down at you, making your heart race faster. Damn this perfect man.

“Come have a drink with me?” You request, pointing to the saloon, “Celebrate your progress?"

Javier straightens his back, offering you his arm like the perfect gentleman, “It would be my pleasure.”

The two of you enter the saloon, grabbing a couple of beers before sitting at a small table.

Due to the earlier hour, it’s relatively quiet, sans for the soft hum of conversation and gentle music.

The man plays the piano in the corner, a simple tune but you can't help but notice how aptly Javier watches him play, a longing expression on his face.

“Javier? Are you ok?” You ask, placing a hand on his arm.

He startles, like he was lost in thought, before clearing his throat.

“Si, señorita.” Javier nods, though he remains somber, “I used to… uh, you know, música, yes?”

“Music, that’s right. He’s playing the piano.” You look at the pianist, “You used to play piano?”

“No, no. Guitarra.” Javier sighs, miming plucking a guitar. He looks downcast, “A long time ago.”

You frown sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe one day you can show me, música y guitarra.” You smile, knowing you definitely did not make a proper sentence. Javier chuckles, and returns your smile in earnest.

“Sí, one day.” He sighs wistfully, “No puedo esperar, señorita. I can not wait.”

Neither can you.

After that day, you were intent on finding a guitar for Javier.

You don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he often watches Uncle when he plays his banjo. A deep sadness permeates from his being, a longing that holds grief as well.

His music was another thing he lost fleeing his country. You know more of his backstory from his brief stories about Mexico, his village, and his family. It breaks your heart to think about what he has lost.

You can give him his music back. And dammit, nothing will stop you.

After a job, you find yourself travelling across the grizzlies alongside Arthur, once again thinking about the man waiting for you at camp.

Well, not waiting for you. Simply waiting.

Yours and Arthur's horses are exhausted, and you’re relieved when you come across a small camp.

The residents, an Italian couple, welcome you, letting you share their campfire and even offering you coffee.

They have a bunch of items that they show you, offering to sell them to help them start a new life in America. You look over the collection, unable to hold back the gasp when you see a worn, dusty guitar amongst the items.

The others look at you, curious. Upon seeing the guitar, the man smiles warmly, “You want?”

“I would, please!” You go to your saddlebags, searching for your coin purse.

“You would?” Arthur asks, looking between you and the guitar, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You wave him off, “How much?”

“Erm, fifty cents, miss.”

“Here you go.” You hand him the coin.

Arthur regards the interaction with confusion, as the man hands you the guitar. You cannot help the smile on your face, imagining Javier’s reaction.

When the two of you set off, bidding the couple goodbyes, you sit on your mare with the guitar strapped to your back, and Arthur laughs under his breath.

“So, what was that about?” He asks, “Feeling musical? Are you and Uncle starting a band?”

Laughing, you shake your head, “Nah. Someone just promised to play me a song.”

When the two of you arrived in camp, you looked around for Javier, holding the guitar rather awkwardly.

The others looked at it questioningly, but you paid them no mind.

Javier is on guard duty, looking bored as he fiddled with his rifle. You felt nerves as you approached, second guessing yourself as the silence felt heavy around you.

“Javier?” You called as you stood a few feet away, not wanting to startle him.

He turns around, smiling when he spots you. His eyes widen when he sees the instrument in your hands.

You clear your throat, holding it out to him awkwardly, “This is for you.”

Javier gasps, placing his rifle down as he approaches, looking between you and the guitar.

“Me?” He asks quietly, like he can’t believe it.

“You.” You giggle, handing it to him. He takes it, looking down at the instrument.

“Princesa… this is…” Javier trails off, dragging his fingers over the strings, “Muy amable… muchas gracias, señorita!”

“I only know what a couple of those words mean, so you’re welcome, Javier.” You chuckle, beaming as you watch Javier marvel over the old guitar as if it were the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He looks back up at you, standing with the guitar in hand, seemingly thinking something through.

You’re surprised when he wraps an arm around you, tucking you under his chin as he murmurs another, “Gracias, princesa.”

You hug him back, wrapped in his warmth and comforting smell. Is this the happiest you’ve ever been? Perhaps.

After a moment, you’re sure you feel him press his lips to the crown of your head, before he steps back, clearing his throat.

“I should… go back, to guarding.” He says, holding the guitar close to his chest.

“Of course!” You take a step back, smiling at him, “I'll see you at dinner.”

“I will play for you.” Javier promises, beaming.

You turn and walk away. You can feel his eyes on you as you walk, and you pray you don’t step on a rock and make a fool of yourself. You’re so giddy you feel like this is your first time walking.

Back at camp, you take a sharp breath to calm your racing heart Hosea grins broadly at you.

“Smooth.” He laughs, coming to your side.

“Shut up, old man.” You berate with a smile, elbowing him.

At dinner, Javier joins your side at the campfire, tuning the guitar with nimble fingers. When he was happy, he turned to you, playing a simple tune which made you smile.

That night you fell asleep to the sound of Javier’s singing across camp, and you dreamt of his embrace.

The morning after, Javier Escuella awkwardly walks through camp, searching out Hosea Matthews for advice.

Finding him sitting at one of the tables, Javier clears his throat, hoping to gain the attention of the older man without much embarrassment.

“Señor Matthews?”

Hosea turns around, offering Javier a welcoming smile, “Javier, how are you?”

“I am well, thank you.”

“And how's the weather?”

Javier chuckles, “The weather is fine.”

“You're really coming along with your English.” Hosea muses proudly, “Our dear Y/N seems to be really helping you, huh?”

“Ah, sí, yes.” Javier smiles, attempting to hide his blush underneath the brim of his hat.

But Hosea notices. He always does.

“Pero…I need to learn more.” Javier continues, taking a seat beside Hosea at the table, “Some words that I want to say to her, that I cannot have her teach me. You understand, yes?”

“I do.” Hosea smiles, all knowing “What specific words might I ask?”

“Ah, so many.” Javier sighs, eyes soft as he thinks about you, “She… how do I say it, es muy bonita, si? Very beautiful. Pero hay más, ella es fuerte. Desde que la conocí siento que la vida vuelve a tener sentido. Ella me hace feliz-”

At Hosea’s blank expression, Javier releases a frustrated sigh, standing to pace. He scratches his head, sending Hosea an apologetic look.

“Gah, lo siento, señor. I… ask Y/N, it takes a while to teach me. She says I ramble.”

“I get the gist, Mr Escuella.” Hosea chuckles, shrugging “You’re sweet on her.”

“The sweetest.” Javier murmurs, causing the older man to bark out another laugh.

“Well, it certainly seems there's a lot for you to say.” Hosea muses, running a hand over his face, “Perhaps you shouldn't tell her, but show her.”

“Cómo? How do I show her?”

“I can think of a few ways.”

Javier takes a seat beside Hosea again, leaning forward to listen to the man as he begins detailing ways he could get his point across.

You eye them suspiciously from across camp, wondering what they could possibly be talking about so seriously.

As the sun sets on another day, you stand brushing your horse absentmindedly.

You hate to admit it, but you’re waiting impatiently for Javier to be done with guard duty, so the two of you can sit by the campfire as he plays his guitar for you.

It has become a part of your daily routine, and has begun your favourite part of the day. No competition.

Someone clears their throat behind you, startling you from your thoughts.

Javier stands behind you. He looks bashful, a look you remember from when he first joined the gang. But there is a fierce determination on his face that you recognise.

“Princesa.” Javier greets, offering you a smile despite his obvious nerves.

“Mr Escuella.”

“Javier, por favor. Never Mr Escuella to you.” He says with a smile.

“Lo siento, Javier.” You chuckle, “What’s wrong?”

Javier clears his throat, “Nothing is wrong. In fact, everything is… good.”

He goes silent, looking down at the dirt below as he thinks to himself. Whatever he is thinking about, obviously has him stumped.

You wait, confused but never impatient. Not with him.

“I…” Javier sighs, shaking his head, “Gah, maldice esta idioma.”

You huff out a laugh, “Idioma? If you’re calling me an idiot, I feel I should be offended.”

“Idiot? No! No, no, no. You’re not señor Williamson.” Javier jokes, taking a step closer to you, “I would never say a bad word about you.”

Blushing, you duck your head. Javier reaches out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

When you look up at him, he seems sad.

“You… I wish I knew more.” He sighs, looking at his feet, “If I could speak to you en español, I would have more words to speak. ¿Comprendes?.”

He looks up at you to see if you understand, and you nod encouragingly.

“I talked to Señor Matthews, and he gave me advice that was… eh, muy útil. Useful.”

“What did he say?” You ask.

“That words are not the only way to show how I feel. My actions can speak for me, my heart can speak for me.”

Javier takes your hand, rubbing your thumb.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out your favourite flower, slightly bent out of shape by his pocket.

“Eh…” Javier laughs at the drooping flower, shrugging, “I know they are your favourite.”

“Oh, Javier.” You take the flower, while intertwining your fingers with his other hand, “Thank you- muchas gracias.”

“De nada, cariño.” He cups your face with his hand, before nodding to the flower, “May I put it in your hair?”

You nod, and he takes it from you, gently tilting your head sideways so he can place the flower behind your ear, securing it. His finger dances along your jaw once he is satisfied.

Searching your eyes, he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours.

You cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his cheek, to his moustache. Javier purrs at the feeling, kissing the pad of your thumb.

“Kiss me?” You request, the words escaping you like a plea.

Javier smiles widely, “It would be my pleasure.”

He presses his lips to yours gently, a featherlight touch that makes you swoon. They’re softer than you would have thought from a scary outlaw, and warm, branding you with his affection.

You could happily die right here right now, with Javier Escuella kissing you with all the gentleness neither of you truly deserve.

Javier breaks the kiss to look at you once again, chuckling happily to himself.

“Llevo meses queriendo besarte.” Javier sighs, “Your lips… more perfect than I imagined.”

“Have you imagined my lips often?” You tease.

“Every day since I first saw you.”

The confession makes you gasp, surprised that he has desired you for so long.

Javier blushes, looking away, “When Dutch told me he had a gang, I was expecting a bunch of hair brutes. A whole group of Bill Williamsons.”

You both laugh.

“But then, I saw you.” He sighs, wistfully, “It was the first time I was glad to be in America. This country felt so lifeless before you.

“Oh Javier.” You smile, “I feel the same.”

“Mi corazón.” Javier mutters, smiling down at you, “Te amo.”

“Te amo?” You ask, marvelling over the two words, and Javier nods pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you.”

If those aren't the prettiest words ever, in any language.

“I love you too, Javier.” You sigh, pulling him in for another kiss, “Te amo.”

AN / Javier internally screaming “do you know how smart I am in Spanish??”, I know babygirl was frustrated when he first came over to America

For @ourkokolocoo thank u for requesting some Javier! I'm definitely going to write more for him <3

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Miss You✨

Summary: Lucifer can’t help but tease you with his sexy new outfit while you’re away; you decide he needs to be taught a lesson…

Yeah, that Valentine’s Day outfit got me barking like a dog, so I’m dragging you all back kicking and screaming!

Happy Father's Day ig, have fun fucking the devil!

Warnings: 18+, smut, sexting, teasing, masturbation, toys, orgasm denial, use of safe word, oral (f receiving), p in v, Lucifer is a bit of a brat

Ring ring ring

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you walked along the streets of Hell. Pulling it out, you saw Lucifer's adorable rubber duck icon pop up on the screen. You smiled and hit the answer button.

"Hey Luci, what's going on?" you answered cheerfully.

"Oh, you know, just waiting for my darling to return home to me," he sighed dramatically on the other side of the phone.

"Hon, it's only been an hour!" you scolded playfully. "I had to pick out something special for tomorrow, you know."

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day; one of Lucifer's favorite mortal holidays. The chocolates, the flowers, the romantic setting, everything about it excited the little devil! And of course, he always treated you to a special candlelit dinner, complete with dessert and champaign. But you knew Lucifer always looked forward to the end of the night; that time he gets to worship you as the goddess he saw you as.

This year, however, you decided you wanted to spice things up a bit. Which is why you made it a point to visit the Entertainment District which housed the best collection of sex apparel in the pride ring. Lucifer insisted on giving you anything you wanted, but new lingerie wasn't all that you were looking for; some new toys were definitely needed. It took a while to convince him since you knew he didn't like being left alone for too long, but you promised him that you would be as quick as you could. Nevertheless, that didn't seem to stop him from calling you up after only a short amount of time.

"I knoooowwwww," Lucifer groaned on the other end. "But I miss you! Is there any way I can convince you to come home sooner?"

His proposition intrigued you, so you decided to play along. "And how would you do that, I wonder."

You swear you could almost hear him smile. "Well, my dear, since you got to go out and look for a special outfit, I thought I would try my hand at creating one just for me! Gotta say, I'm pretty happy with it! Tight in all the right places!" You heard the static-filled snap of the fabric hit his skin as he spoke.

"Wait," you paused, moving yourself up against a building. "Are you wearing it right now?" He was doing this on purpose, you knew he was. He knew how to tempt you. And picturing Lucifer in something less than decent did nothing to help keep your composure out in public. You could already feel the heat in your face begin to rise.

Lucifer chuckled lightly. "Would you like a sneak peak, love?" Before you could answer, there was a buzzing on your phone. He already had a picture queued up just to tease you. You opened the message with a gasp, fumbling your phone in your hands. The picture showed of his exposed stomach with the rest of his body covered in a lovely black. It looked as though he shot this photo from the waist up because you could make out his forked tongue that was sticking out through his sharpened teeth, smiling wickedly at the camera.

Quickly, you closed the picture hoping no one else had seen what was on your screen. "You ass, I almost dropped my phone!"

"Hey, you're the one who opened it!" he shot back. "But I can tell you like it, isn't that right?"

He was right, of course he was! How could you not?! But he was getting too cocky for his own good. If he wanted to be a brat today, you had no trouble giving him exactly what he wanted. Even if it meant cutting your outing a little bit short. You were going to surprise him with his favorite chocolate candies, but perhaps you could get them after you taught him a lesson.

"I'll be home in 15 minutes," you responded in a hushed tone, trying your best not to draw the attention of others. "If you aren't handcuffed to that bed by the time I'm back, you're gonna be in for it."

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Lucifer murmured, sending shivers down your spine. What a fucking tease, but God, did you love him.

“You have 14 minutes now,” was all you said before hanging up the phone as you pushed yourself away from the wall and began to walk back towards the Morningstar mansion, paying no attention to the onlookers who noticed your brisk pace as you passed them. There was someone who needed to be put in his place.

By the time you made it back to his place, you still hadn't decided how you were going to approach him. On the one hand, he was being a brat, but he was being a brat on purpose. It's like he wanted to know how many buttons of yours he could push. But on the other hand, you knew he couldn't be left by himself for an extended period of time. Even an hour seemed to be a bit of a struggle. Either way, you weren't upset, far from it. Spending any amount of time with Lucifer brought you joy.

You opened the door to his bedroom and placed your shopping bags on the vanity, not fully aware of your surroundings before you spoke. "I'm back! Okay, Lucifer, let me see this snazzy little outfit you-" You lost your voice when your eyes finally landed on the man shackled to the bedframe. Well, half-shackled. One hand was cuffed while the other laid across his exposed stomach. The innocent yet shit eating grin he gave you felt like a flashbang. Oh, this man was going to pay.

"Hi, honey," he greeted playfully, wiggling his fingers as he waved.

You took a deep breath in, trying to quiet the very loud voice in your head that begged you to pounce on him. "Is there a reason you have a free hand?" you spoke sternly, doing your best to keep up the disappointed facade.

"What do you mean?" he tilted his head, "How could I possibly handcuff both of my wrists by myself!" Both you and him knew damn well he could do so easily, he was an angel for Heaven's sake! He was magic incarnate.

If this is how he wanted to play, then it was game on.

You took a few steps closer, softening the scowl you had plastered on your face just a minute ago. "Hmm, guess you're right," you falsely agreed. You stood at the side of his bed, running your hand down his stomach, stopping just above his crotch. You could tell from a quick glance that he was already worked up in anticipation. "Eager already, are we?"

Lucifer laughed cautiously. It seems as though he hadn't expected the response you'd given. Before he could muster up an answer, you threw your one leg over his body, perfectly straddling him. A soft gasp escaped the angel as you began to shift your hips along his clothed length. His free hand found your hip, helping you steady yourself as your heated core began to rile him up even further. "I-I have to say, sweetie," Lucifer spoke up at last, "you're a lot gentler t-than I thought you might be."

You smiled and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his parted lips, removing his hat in the process. "Oh Luci, I just want to give you everything you deserve." Your lips left his as you began to trail kisses down his pale neck and collar bone, earning soft whimpers from the man beneath you. His hips stated to match your movements as he desperately used his body to beg for more friction, more contact. He was putty in your hands and you've barely begun. "You want more, my sweet boy? I can feel how hard you are."

"Y-Yes," he babbled, "P-Please..."

You hummed contently, shifting your body down further to straddle his legs. You reached for the hem of his pants and pulled them down past his waist lethargically, savoring the sight of exposing each inch of his engorged member. You pulled the fabric to his knees and moved your face inches away from his twitching cock. Lucifer nearly whined since you were taking longer than normal to touch him. You pressed a quick kiss to his leaking tip before crawling back up his body once more. Your smile turned wicked as you leaned down and pressed your lips to his ear. "I would love to give you more, Lucifer," you whispered teasingly, "but where's the fun in that?" Immediately, you removed yourself from the bed and sauntered over to where you had left your shopping bags.

"W-What?" the poor man sobbed.

"Aww, baby," you cooed cruelly, "you didn't think I was going to give in so easily, did you? If you don't want to listen to me, why would you think I would reward such behavior?" You watched as Lucifer gulped at your words that were laced with a certain intensity he was not used to. "And besides, you have a free hand, don't you? I suggest you use it, because I'm not going to touch you anymore until you've been properly punished. Do you understand?"

Lucifer's hand visibly trembled as he reached for his neglected cock, gripping it timidly as he began to rock his hand back and forth. Small cries emanated from the bed, but you weren't going to back down. You turned away from your saddened lover and began to rummage through your things for the brand-new lingerie set you had purchased; the white thin lacy fabric with red accents that left little to the imagination.

"Close your eyes," you commanded, holding back a smile as you watched your lover struggle. "It's indecent to watch a lady change." You could have easily locked yourself in the bathroom to throw on the new outfit, but torturing Lucifer by withholding your gorgeous form from him was much more entertaining.

"Love, p-please," Lucifer began to beg. "You're teasing me too much..."

"You know the safe word, Luci," you responded calmly, refusing to give him an inch. "What color?"

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Green."

He was perfectly fine. The color system was the perfect way to gauge each other's boundaries, all discussed previously, of course. The man groaned as his hand continued to pump himself furiously, his precum now leaking over his darkened hand. "Ah, ah, not too fast now," you reprimanded. "Can't have you have too much fun without me." Lucifer whined but complied, slowing his movements at your command. "Now, be a good boy and close your eyes." He nodded and did as you asked, watching his eyes scrunched tight. You made quick work of discarding your dress, making sure to keep an eye on the ravenous man on the bed. You slipped into your lingerie with ease, giving yourself a quick glance over in the vanity mirror. Lucifer's colors looked good on you.

You began to go through the other bag and took out some of the new toys you had purchased on your very short outing, a small vibrating bullet and a brand-new vibrating flesh light. You sauntered over to Lucifer, who was behaving and keeping his eyes closed for you. You ran your hand gently down his flushed face before pressing a soft kiss to his needy lips. He forced his head up as much as he could, desperate to deepen this kiss. But you pulled away way to quickly to leave him satisfied. "Greedy," you mocked playfully. "Keep your eyes closed, I'm almost done."

You pulled a small bottle of lube from your nightstand, dabbing a generous portion to your fingers. You heard Lucifer's breath quicken as he no doubt realized what you were about to do. "H-Honey?" he squeaked.

"Relax," you chuckled as you made your way to the foot of the bed, placing your free hand on his pants and pushing them even further down to rest as his ankles. Lucifer's hand continued to keep a steady pace around his shaft even though your ministrations were pushing him closer and closer to the point of no return. "You're being so good for me," you praised. "Lift your legs for me. Don't stop stroking." Lucifer complied, giving you easy access to complete remove the bottom half of his special outfit, leaving the lower half of him completely exposed now.

"S-Sweetie, please..." he groveled, "Please touch me...I-I'm sorry I teased you! I'll do anything! A-Anything you want!" The strain in his voice was nothing short of tantalizing. Part of you wanted to end his torment, to satisfy your own desires as it became increasingly hard to ignore the pulsing between your own legs. But the other, more sadistic side of you was drowning out any sympathy you had for the little devil.

"Spread your legs," your ordered. "We've hardly begun. And I'm going to make sure you learn your lesson."

Slowly but surely, the devil's legs fell apart now fully exposing himself to you. You pressed your fingers against his tight hole before lethargically working them inside. Lucifer's strangled yelps only prodded you further, delighted by the needy sounds that escaped his throat. After a minute or two of preparation provided b your digits, you reached for the small vibrator, switching it on the lowest setting.

Lucifer gasped.

"O-Oh God, no..." the angel lamented, his eyes still closed. The soft sounds of the buzzing toy must have tipped him off. "My love, you're not going to-"

"Oh, but I am," you interrupted. "Now stay still, Luci."

“B-But…”

“Shh, behave now. I think it’s about time you started listening to me.”

You slipped your fingers out of him without warning and quickly replaced them with the bullet, pushing it inside of Lucifer's tight ass to the hilt. The man began to thrash on the bed, his hips jerking every which way from the new stimulation he was receiving. "Calm down, sweetie" you instructed, reveling in the way he was responding to your antics, "you can remove your hand, but keep your eyes closed. I have one more surprise for you." Your words echoed in his mind as more of a threat than a surprise.

Babbling out a less the coherent response, Lucifer's hand immediately gripped the bed sheets as he attempted to keep himself as still as he could. You hummed in approval, sneaking a quick glance at his dripping cock; precum now coating his stomach. He was was on the verge of losing control, you both knew it. But you weren't quite done with him just yet. You walked over to the side of the bed with flesh light in one hand as the other reached for his neglected dick. A breathless scream erupted from your lover as soon as you touched him. You pumped him a few times before lining up his cock with the other new toy. You forced the flesh light down his length slowly until it enveloped him completely.

"G-GAAAAHHH," Lucifer cried out in a state of overwhelming pleasure that teetered on pain. Almost at a torturous pace, you stroked the flesh light up and down as you watched Lucifer writhe on the mattress below you.

“How’s my little pet doing?” you asked, your voice laced with a sadistic tone.

Lucifer shook his head as he desperately tried to regain control of his body. “I-I gaaahhhh f-ffffuuaahhh…t-too much…”

“Aww, poor baby," you teased, "Do you want to cum, Lucifer?”

“Mm-hmm…” he whimpered.

You halted your movements immediately as Lucifer wailed at the loss of friction. “Hmm, let me rephrase…do you think you DESERVE to cum?”

“N-No…” Lucifer swallowed hard as he gasped for air.

Your hand began to move once again, pleased with his answer. “Glad that we’re on the same page, love. Brats shouldn’t get to cum, should they?”

Oh, the way Lucifer squirmed was something to behold. If you could replay this moment in your head for the rest of time, you would do so in a heartbeat. He was losing himself and it was all thanks to you. His demonic horns burst from his forehead as his tail found its way around your thigh. You had a thought of reprimanding him for touching you without your permission but putting him in this state was already more than enough punishment. Plus, you were starting to feel neglected as it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore the pulsing between your legs. His touch was a more than welcomed one.

“Y-You’re lucky I’m even doing this f-for you," you scolded, small stutters slipping through your dominant facade. "Given how you’ve acted today, teasing me while I’m out in public, making me come home early from my day out, not listening to my simple instructions…" You took your free hand and held Lucifer's chin in your fingers. "Now, what do you say?”

“T-Thank you, l-love…," the angel stuttered in response. "Thank you s-so much…you’re too g-good to me…”

“Good boy."

Lucifer nearly went limp from your praise. His babbling was incoherent now. There was a shift, but you couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was. When you looked at him, it was as though he wasn't all there.

"Color, Luci?" you asked. No response. At least, none that you could understand. But you did feel his tail tighten even more around you, to the point where you know it would bruise later.

Bad sign...

Your motions slowed as you waited for his answer. "Lucifer, can you give me a color?" Still nothing. Your heart sank when you realized he was in no condition to continue. Your hand completely stopped, removing the flesh light from him and tossing it on the mattress followed quickly by the vibrating bullet. His body continued to tremble as your hands flew to his face, wiping the excessive drool that spilled from his mouth. "Hey, Lucifer, honey, look at me. I need you to open your eyes for me now. Please..."

Finally, a sign of life. His eyes squinted open after having them shut for so long. It was hard to see, but you could tell his eyes were glassy. "H-Honey?..." Lucifer finally managed to speak, his tail at last loosening the grip it had on your thigh.

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief as one of your hands removed the strands of hair from his sweat covered face. "Shh, it's alright. It's okay. You scared me there for a minute. Seemed like you fell too far."

" 'M sorry..." he blubbered.

"Hey hey hey," you scolded softly, "none of that. You did nothing wrong. Are you able to give me a color?"

Lucifer sniffled, a single tear rolling down his cheek which you easily wiped away. "Red..."

"Okay," you breathed, your worry finally starting to dwindle. "We're done." You kissed his forehead before heading to the night stand to retrieve the key the unlocked his restraints. His hand feel to the bed with a thump. You picked it up and ran your fingers over his darkened skin. "I'll be right back, okay? I'm going to get you some water. Just relax for me. You did very well, Luci. Very well."

As you promised, you returned quickly with his drink along with a towel you doused with some cold water. Lucifer laid on the bed nearly lifelessly, his horns and tail had vanished as well. But at least his breathing was steady. You handed him the cold glass as he gave you a soft smile. But you noticed a twinge of sadness in his expression; you knew he still felt guilty about ending the session early. But what mattered to you was that he was alright, no matter what he would say otherwise. He gulped the water rapidly as you ran the cool towel across his forehead.

"Let's get this off of you, shall we?" You tugged at the black jacket that still remained. Lucifer nodded and let you remove the coat. "You must have been overheating, huh?"

He chuckled lightly. "Just a little. Maybe black wasn't the best color choice."

"You look really good in black, though," you teased, tunning the towel down his exposed chest. He sighed deeply as he watched you through half-lidded eyes.

"Thank you, love," Lucifer spoke softly as he put the empty glass on the night stand. "You're too good to me. I-I'm really sorry about-"

"None of that," you responded hastily, "Lucifer, you don't need to apologize for anything. If you're not having a good time, then neither am I. It's as simple as that. You did nothing wrong."

Lucifer sighed. No matter what you said, it wasn't going to change how he felt, even though you wish it did.

"It wasn't that it didn't feel good," he said, finally sitting up  "it did, it felt amazing! I just...spaced out, I guess. I mean, really spaced out. That's what scared me..." He pushed his knees to his just, resting his head on his arms. "But I know you're disappointed..."

You scooted over beside him and gave a tender kiss to the side of his temple. "I'm never disappointed when it comes to you, Luci. Never. I-MMPH!"

Your words were cut short by Lucifer's lips on yours. He dragged his tongue languidly across your bottom lip, begging for permission. And you happily granted him access. The way he explored your mouth distracted you enough to where you didn't even notice his hands grabbing a hold of your hips. You were hoisted into his lap before you could protest, earning a surprised squeak from you. Lucifer pulled away and leaned his forehead into yours as you both tried to catch your breath.

"You look beautiful, by the way," he praised, his fingers tracing the lacy hem of your panties, "especially in my colors. And to think you deprived me of this, now that was the real punishment." It was only then that he noticed the small slit in your garment that gave him free access to your needy core. "And what's this?" His digits traveled south, but his hand stopped just before making contact. "May I?"

You let out a small sigh. "Are you sure?"

Lucifer responded by pressing a chaste kiss to your supple lips. "You spent so much time taking care of me today. Let me take care of you now."

You bit down on your lip and relented to his request. There was no hesitation with his fingers after that as they quickly found their way your lower lips, already soaked in anticipation. You sucked in a deep breath when he finally made contact, goosebumps littering your body as he touched you where you needed him most. Your head fell on his shoulder within a matter of seconds. He knew everything about you and your body; it was child's play getting you to such a desperate state.

"So wet already and I'm only now touching you." You could hear the smugness in his words as he spoke. Truly the sin of pride. "Does torturing me turn you on this much, my darling?"

"Y-you know, f-fuck..." you tried to speak through your gasps, "you know I w-wasn't trying to t-torture you."

"I know you weren't" he cooed, his thumb now running gentle circles against your clit. Your breathing became rigid and your heart felt like it was going to burst from your ribcage. Your little whines only egged him on further, feeling him push two fingers into your aching hole. The air caught in your throat as he began thrusting the in and out of you a slow pace. "You feel so good, so warm. God, I could spend the rest of the day like this."

And you'd let him. He knew this. But straddling his lap and feeling his hard cock pressed against you did not make it easy. But you'd never push him for more, not after the state he was just in moments before. Not unless he-

"I want you," he pleaded. "Please, love..."

"Lucifer..." You knew what he was doing. He wanted to make up for what happened. Not that you didn't believe he didn't want you, in fact, he probably wanted you more now than ever before. He needed you, starving for you, if  the way his body reacted was any indication.

"Green," he murmured in your ear. You lifted your head and looked into his soft yellow eyes. "Green," he repeated. "Please..."

The last of your resolve faded away, now shifting your body to where your soaked folds teased the head of his cock. You both moaned in unison as you sunk yourself down his shaft, taking him to the hilt. Fuck, did he feel good, your neediness at last being satiated. The joy on Lucifer's face was unmistakable, elated to finally feel you after so long.

"You're still alright?" you asked still trying to remember how to breathe properly. The way he felt was dizzying, no matter how many times you've felt his cock buried deep inside you. It was a constant battle to stay conscious.

"More than alright," he laughed lightly, "now that it's just you and me. No toys, no games, just...you. All I ever need is you. N-Not that I don't enjoy the toys o-or the games! I like them! I-I just mean-"

"Lucifer!" you interrupted.

He cheeks flushed a soft tint of yellow. "I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

"Just a bit." You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in for a deep kiss. "Now be a good boy and let me fuck you."

Lucifer did a motion with his hand, simulating zipping his lips closed. He chuckled as you started shifting your hips. That non-existent zipper didn't last very long as soft moans and whimpers began to pour out from Lucifer. The man gripped your waist, steading you as you picked up the pace. Riding him was one of your favorite ways to bring him pleasure, because you were in control. Of course, Lucifer could more than easily overpower you at any given point and have his way with you if he wanted. But he didn't. He was letting you use him, and he loved every second of it.

"You're s-so good for me, Luci," you praised, your body slamming itself up and down on his thick cock. "You m-make me feel so good. Tell me what y-you want, baby."

"I-I...fffffuck..." he stammered out. His mouth latched onto your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your tender skin. He tried his best not to bite down too hard, but you loved when he left marks on you. He let go, his breathing becoming more and more staggered. "W-Wanna fill you...fuck, PLEASE...need to cum...s-so close, I-I can't..."

You were close yourself. Having Hell's most powerful being at your mercy and begging to cum filled you with such unholy desire that your body had no power to deny him. "I'm close too, Luci. I just n-need you to do one thing f-for...shhhit...for me."

"Anything! Anything for you!" he cried out. He was losing himself and it wouldn't be long before he reached the point of no return.

You smiled and pressed your lips to his ear. "Fill me, Lucifer."

That was all he needed.

He cried out your name in pure bliss as he finally came, filling you with his hot seed. At this point, your body was not moving on its own. Rather, Lucifer was using it for himself, making sure you finished with him. His actions had you barreling towards your own orgasm, your pussy clenching on his cock that continued to pour more and more cum into your needy hole. You could feel it leaking it out of you after a few more moments, sliding down your inner thighs and pooling onto his lap. The poor thing was denied for so long today, he had more than enough to fulfill your request. At last, the two of you stopped moving altogether, your head's resting on each other's shoulders as you both caught your breath.

"Lucifer?" you whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Lucifer picked his head up, his half-lidded eyes felt as though they were peering directly into your soul. "I love you more."

You scoffed jokingly. "The nerve, sir! I don't think you can just-H-HEY!"

Before you could rebuttal, Lucifer has pulled you from his lap, shifting his body down in the process so that your full cunt was inches away from his ravenous mouth.

"What the hell are you doing?!" you asked, your flustered voice making Lucifer grin mischievously.

"Cleaning you up," he replied before his lips met your clit without warning. The near scream that escaped from you echoed throughout the room. Lucifer was insatiable. You couldn't fight back even if you wanted to, not with the way his clawed hands dug into your hips to keep you in place. Through your teary eyes, you watched as he devoured you as well as the mixed fluids of both of your cum.

You bit down on your lip trying to keep the little composure you had left. "Y-You...GOD-...why do you a-always have to one up me?" His forked tongue slithered across your tasty cunt, making sure not a drop  of you or him was left.

He smiled up at you, peppering kisses along your thighs. "I'm the sin of pride for a reason, dear. Can't have anyone out do me. Not even you." His tongue felt incredible inside you, hitting that little bundle of nerves that he knew drove you crazy.

"But I wanted t-to be full!" you pouted.

"Well then," he chucked, his lips ghosting your clit once more "I guess I'll just have to fill you again. Can't have my pretty girl empty now, can we?"

You spent the rest of the night being worshipped by the King of Hell in every sense of the word; truly it was the best Valentine's Day a girl could ask for.

****

You can stone me to death, it's fine, this shouldn't have taken 4 months...

@ask-theradio-demon @sonicwind-01 @thonethatflies620 @willoryn @a-okay-rj

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[yesimwriting]

Stawp!

Louis and bestie reader are so cute

They would be so satc coded and go out for drinks and vacays

Also i think reader would introduce him and call him "my beautiful louis" to other people

But imagine louis getting home and texting her with a smile on his face all cute 🥰

I like the idea of the person who makes vampirism good being her, a platonic relationship, in contrast of a romantic companion.

Also i imagine this convo:

Armand: do you have to go over to her apartment every other day?

Louis: first of, we have our movie night fridays together and you know this!

Armand: its 4 a.m

Louis: duh? I got to get there while the sun is down, besides we need to pick up thai food because she does not cook and she will starve herself before turning on the stove

AND ARMAND WITH HER

I feel like after he knows her, he would be jealous of any relationships/ one night stands she might have (louis knows about them obvi! She calls him all the time 💅🏻)

Im obsessed with this concept 😭

everything about this is so perfect!! i'm so happy you got the vibe! i feel like he just needs someone to pull him out of his (slightly subconscious) angst and something about that happening through a platonic relationship is so endearing to me

they're so satc coded too, just besties drinking and vacationing and having (slightly) delusional conversations <3

also bestie reader calling him "my beautiful louis" to others is everything to me 😭 they for sure love each other so much omg

armand is definitely so messy with this 😭 he's like a cat trying to gaslight their owner into thinking they don't want attention

bc i love this sm here's an actual drabble/fic:

pls be nice writing for new characters for the first few times is so daunting for no reason 😭, also armand is a bit messy here <3

----

Not unlike daylight's earliest hours seeping through shut curtains, the haziness--the easiness--you offer him is persistent.

Louis has grown accustomed to the feeling, to the consistent warmth of your friendship, but every once in awhile the sentimentality of it all digs at him.

"This is..." You trail off, legs crossed beneath you and television remote still loosely held between your fingers. "Complex."

Louis's focus flits between you and the screen you're intently staring at. The two of you hadn't set out to watch a documentary on some nature channel, but this is far from the first time you've gotten distracted by some default program while attempting to put on a movie. "Very."

His sarcasm is enough to break the spell. You turn your head, frowning, "Don't make fun of me."

The documentary cuts to a well lit, sparsely wooded forest. The camera focuses on a deer patiently grazing on the surrounding foliage.

"I’d never," he mumbles, suppressing a smile in an attempt at seeming as serious as he needs to be for the joke to work.

You let out a sound that's too gentle to be a laugh before straightening your shoulders and returning your attention to the television screen. There's something ironically pointed about the way the peaceful background melody fades into something more sinister. Looming Danger.

The deer, alerted by some sixth sense, stiffens, its body stretching to its full, insignificant height. The camera zooms in, focusing on the deer's wide eyes and unmenacing features. "That kind of reminds me of you."

This time, your laugh is full, sharpened by a partial scoff that's as amused as it is offended. "That's the weirdest thing you've ever said to me."

The comment is almost enough to ease him. The camera pans out, allowing the audience to see the other surrounding deer. "Maybe the deer from that one animated movie."

You're quiet for a moment, thinking through the implication of the words before turning your head towards him again. "You mean Bambi?"

He had been much too old to be interested in the film by the time it came out, but the name is vaguely familiar enough. "I think so."

You blink at that, tilting your head slightly. "How do you know Bambi?"

"I don't know Bambi," the argument is a relatively flat one. Louis turns to better face you, resting his arm against the back of your couch. "I've just seen some commercials."

That only seems to confuse you further. You straighten, pulling your legs towards your chest. "Where would you have seen Bambi commercials?"

"They were everywhere when it came out in the 40's."

You don't respond right away, your attention shifting away from Louis and towards your bent legs. As far as references that remind you of his lack of humanity, this is far from a drastic one. The 40’s weren’t long enough ago to be inconceivable to you.

Still, you’re quiet, as if thinking through the potential outcomes of your reaction. You nod once. “Right."

When you look up at him again, there's a hesitant sort of curiosity behind your eyes. It's an expression Louis's more accustomed to than he wants to be, it's the way you look at him when you're reminded of the reality of the differences between the two of you.

You tap your nails against your knee. "Does it feel weird?" The question comes out with a suddenness that doesn't suit you, the stiffness of the words sharp and uncertain. "All that time--carrying it inside your head?"

For a moment, all he can bring himself to do is sit with the question. Your question. It's a simple enough thing to ask, but not a exactly a straightforward thing to answer. Especially not to you, who has yet to experience a significant passage of time even by human standards.

"Well," he starts, "You know about the way that time has impacted aspects of my memory." You watch him patiently, saying nothing to prompt or rush him as he thinks through his response. "It does make things feel different--years spent with someone can feel like moments, and moments with others can feel like eternity."

You nod once, allowing his answer to sink in. "Which one am I?"

He knows his answer before he knows how to put it into words. You’re too familiar for either.

“You’re more like a memory.”

Your eyebrows briefly pinch together at that. You part your lips, but before you can respond the documentary’s music swells.

You turn your head in time to see the coyote lunge at a deer. You sigh, screwing your eyes shut before leaning forward, You press your forehead against his arm. “That’s depressing.”

Louis could have anticipated the reaction, you’re usually more bothered by animals dying in movies than people. Still, though, your ability to find comfort in him of all things will never not perplex him.

Instead of pointing out that you’re the one that chose to watch this, he gently reaches for the remote. “Fine, I’ll put on the movie.”

----

The familiar ringing is so muted, so low, Armand's certain that if it wasn't for his enhanced senses, he wouldn't have been able to hear anything at all. By the time he's turned his head, Louis is already reaching for his coat's pocket.

Armand frowns. If the late hour and limited number of people Louis talks to weren't enough to let Armand know who the message is from, Louis's smile as he unlocks his cell phone would be evidence enough. You--it's always you.

He continues forward, allowing Louis to type out a response without interruption. Once he's certain the message has been sent, Armand begins, "It's her again."

Louis's attention shifts away from the screen. "She's my friend."

"I know," he says, voice flat, "Your best friend."

"Stop it." There's nothing aggressive about Louis's response, but there's an underlying warning pressed into the syllables, the same almost-sharpness that Louis relies on whenever Armand implies a lack of fondness for Louis's latest source of entertainment. "It's not like that."

No, it really isn't. When you first began to weave yourself into Louis's life, Armand had almost convinced himself that this was a blatant betrayal that defied Louis's usual preferences. After about five minutes of assessment, Armand realized that the two of you really are as affectionately platonic as you claim to be.

"No," it's an easy enough concession. Armand continues forward, the coolness of the night's air sharp against his skin. Their walk hasn't exactly been the most exciting night of their companionship, but it has been non-contentious in a needed way after their latest session with Daniel. "You do spend a lot of time with her."

Louis's quiet for a moment, thinking through his response in a way that Armand finds unusual. "You could spend time with us, too."

The sentiment isn't as true as Louis intends it to be. While Armand's been around you regularly enough to consider you familiar, there are a few things that the two of you want to do on your own. Your weekly movie nights, casual drinking at bars, the surprise trip to Milan. And during the evenings in which Armand is there, Louis regards him with a subtle uneasiness that if you've noticed, you know better than to mention.

In your presence, what they are may only be portrayed in the softest of lights. The facets of vampirism must only ever be suggested, alluded to so faintly that they're rendered incapable of tarnishing that darling soul of yours Louis is so determined to preserve.

"And subject the poor, little fawn to an evening with two vampires?"

Armand keeps his gaze focused on what's ahead of them, but he can practically feel the lack of amusement radiating off of Louis. "Come on," he tries again, "She's not like that."

Although he'd love nothing more than to solely resent your existence, Armand does have to give you credit for that. You hadn't so much as missed a single step when Louis revealed the truth to you, never once treating him differently. You also barely flinched when Armand appeared in your home with no warning as a way of hurting Louis during a particularly lively argument. Armand's yet to determine if your bravery is a sign of idiocy or a testament to how certain you are in your connection to Louis.

It's far from rare for Louis to feel the need to defend you, but there's a determination there that seems urging. "She asked you to come over."

Louis's hesitation, though brief, is confirmation enough. He almost stills but seems to think better of it, placing his phone back into his pocket as if that will be enough to make Armand forget that you're the source of this. "She just ended things with the boy she's been seeing."

Hm. Not exactly an interesting update, but intriguing...more intriguing than why you usually call Louis, if nothing else.

"Alright," Armand agrees, "Let's visit your puppy."

----

The apartment building you live in is far from run down. You've slowly but surely transformed yourself into one of those rare artists with a curated following so obsessed with being able to credit themselves as the discoverer of the next big thing that they go out of their way to purchase anything that you've labeled as yours. Existing at the cusp of fame has allowed you to afford a decent apartment in the city, but it's nowhere near as nice as where you could be if you'd accept Louis's offer to get you a place closer to them.

Louis knocks on your door twice. In less than a second, you're clicking the lock out of place. You're beaming as you pull the door open, "Louis."

Armand watches Louis's expression melt into one of total warmth. There's a definiteness to your friendship that Armand might envy if he understood it any better. What's so special, so interesting about you that your presence is always desireable?

Louis extends an arm, offering you the bouquet of flowers he insisted on purchasing before visiting you.

Your smile widens even further at the arrangement. If it wasn't for the information that Louis gave him earlier, Armand would have no reason to think anything remotely upsetting happened to you tonight. "I love peonies. Thank you."

You lift a hand, your pointer finger gently brushing a thin petal as you examine the flowers. After a moment, you straighten, turning your head enough to acknowledge him. "Armand, hi." The greeting is cordial yet far from cold, the way you often are with him.

"Hello," he replies. You step back, pulling your front door open as a way of inviting them in. "I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

You pause at that, parting your lips as you look back at him. Louis speaks before you get the chance to, "I told you to look sad when we got here."

It's a playful chastising at best, but you react as if Louis had really meant it. In some ways, Armand believes he did. "Oh," the sound falls flat. You walk further into your home's entryway, giving them the space needed to enter. "Give me a second, I can do better." You turn slightly, holding onto the flowers a little tighter as you bring your free hand to your chest. "I'm distraught."

Your performance isn't worthy of a standing ovation, but there's a humor there that might have been charming if Armand's disinterest in you was less inherit.

"Nice try," Louis mumbles as he wanders towards your couch. He sits down with a casualness that highlights how used to existing in your space Louis really is. "Armand wasn't up for visiting anyone and I wanted you to at least look sympathetic."

You walk past your living room. Armand watches you for a moment before following, if for no other reason than to feel something resembling Louis's familiarity. He keeps his steps even, making a point of remaining a few paces behind you.

You stop in front of a cupboard. After opening the cabinet, you have to extend your arm so fully to reach a vase Armand's surprised when you manage to grab it without knocking it off its shelf.

"Trust me," you say, exaggerating the syllables as you approach the sink, "I'm very sympathetic." You place the vase beneath the sink before turning on the faucet.

Armand steps forward, setting a palm against the granite that makes up the island attached to your sink. "I'm sure." The words are spoken so lowly they're nearly drowned out by the sound of running water.

"What did he do?" Louis asks from his spot on the couch.

You lift the vase out of the sink's basin, shutting off the faucet as you move to set the glass onto the counter. "Broke up with me because he thought he had a chance with his ex-girlfriend."

"What?" Louis turns fully at that, craning his neck to look at you.

You nod sharply, completely validated by Louis's shock. "I know." You remove the plastic binding your bouquet together. "Men are the worst." You carefully pull a flower away from its bundle before placing it in the vase. The process of arranging the flowers must remind you who brought them to you, because after a second, you amend your statement, "Except you guys. Obviously."

"Obviously," Louis repeats in a way that only feels somewhat sarcastic. "So are you...upset? Angry?"

You pause, giving yourself a moment to really think about your response. "A little of everything, I guess." You pick up two smaller flowers by their long stems before placing them in the vase. "But not crushed." You reach for a filler flower. "I don't know...it's not like I was in love with him."

Louis rests an elbow against the back of your couch, propping his head up as he watches you continue to adjust your flowers. "I'm glad you weren't." You raise your eyebrows at that. "He wasn't the right person."

"You always say that."

"And I haven't been wrong yet."

You give him another look that would be threatening if it wasn't for the underlying fondness there. "Don't start." You don't wait for Louis's reaction before returning your attention to the flowers.

Armand watches you for a moment before allowing himself to take in your apartment. This place is a known entity, but it's not exactly familiar. He's never seen anything beyond the living but he has heard you talk about a room that you've converted into a studio space.

It's not as easy as it should be to imagine a space solely dedicated to your work when touches of it seem to cover your entire apartment. Two canvases too uniquely you to be purchased are hanging behind your couch, there's a ceramic vase on your dining table that reminds him of the way you paint, and then there's the abandoned palette and partially finished canvas still on its easel.

Armand walks forward slowly, approaching the painting as you and Louis begin discussing your least favorite things about the boy that ended things with you.

Even unfinished, the project is strong in its certainty, in its style. Your brush strokes are sharp, unafraid. Next to your well loved palette, there's a small photograph that parallels but doesn't exactly fully match the partially completed house on the canvas.

"That's an idea for a new collection--the repurposing of abandoned things, places..." Your explanation is abrupt in a way that borders on shy. "It's not meant to be as pretentious as it sounds."

There's a self deprecating quality to the disclaimer that doesn't fit you. Perhaps he's stumbled onto an actual insecurity. "Does someone seeing it like this make you uncomfortable?"

"Uh," you start, confused by his own suddenness, "No, not really. As long as you know to look it as a work in progress." You tap your nails against the counter. "I--I have a room down the hall that's full of half-finished stuff if you want to look at those, too."

The offer feels more like an attempt to convince yourself that you're okay with his analysis of your work before it's been polished than anything else. The concept of your uncertainty makes Armand curious enough for him to actively reach for your thoughts.

Armand's concentration shifts onto your mind, and he's immediately thrown by the vaguest implication of resistance. Your mental defense is so feeble it might as well not exist, but the fact that it does...that you're trying to at all is almost endearing enough to convince Armand to leave you be. Almost. "Are you attempting to block me out of your thoughts?"

You blink, the blood beneath your skin rushing its way up your neck at your embarrassment. "Are you trying to read them?" When your counter question doesn't impact him at all, you sheepishly offer an explanation, "Louis taught me."

Of course he'd teach his pet a new trick.

Louis lets out a small laugh at that. "The fact that he felt it at all tells me you're better at it than I'd thought you be."

Armand's gaze returns to your painting. You've managed to find a warmth, a beauty in the forgotten. "The implication of resistance isn't the same as resistance itself."

The criticism stings, but you don't let it impact your expression. You let out an exaggerated sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly to add to your point. "Be nice, I was just broken up with. Over text."

He continues to study the painting, his mind attempting to break the piece down by individual brush strokes. "That doesn't matter to you. Not really." Armand can almost imagine the creation of the house's boarders, of the formation of each individual stone and the heavy ivy covering them. "You're not 'crushed' because you're interesting and he's not, and a part of you knows that."

The sentiment behind the words leaves you desperate to push him away. Blood settles itself beneath your chest. Your feeble mental shield returns, this time determined enough for Armand to feel its desire to push him out.

"You don't know if I'm interesting," the response is too soft, too curious to reflect your unease.

You tap your nails against the counter, the gentle clicks of them hitting the granite echoing throughout the space. Armand refocuses on the canvas. "Louis wouldn't like you if you weren't."

Something about the statement seems to ease you. Armand's reminded of how almost overly genuine your friendship is. "Thanks."

Louis lets out an almost-scoff at that, his eyebrows briefly drawing together in a display of mock offense. "Don't make me sound so shallow."

"It's less about your shallowness and more about my winning personality."

"Uh-huh," Louis mumbles, pressing a synthetic lack of interest into syllables, "Well, as long as its about you."

----

a/n this is lowkey way longer than i expected it to be but i loved this dynamic so much so if you want to see more of them pls let me know <3

[queenofterrasen418]

Cruel Fates (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader, little Eris x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel is your mate but only you know it. You are very aware that he has eyes for someone else and thus you decide not to hide it forever. After all, what could go wrong right?

Warnings: Angst (I don't think I can ever stop myself from writing angst.)

Based on this ask.

4.1K words

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

You found yourself aimlessly wandering along the banks of Sidra after storming out on Rhys. The ambient noise enveloped you—the rhythmic splashes of the river against rocks, the bustling chatter of the market, birds chirping in the background. Everything felt mundane, yet strangely comforting. Ignoring your problems wasn’t a solution, as Rhys had pointed out, but it was undeniably easier than facing or even acknowledging them. Nevertheless, you had resigned yourself to the current state of affairs.

Using distraction as your shield, you returned home burdened with bags filled with new books, clothes, and other unnecessary items. As you entered the elegant two-story building you called home, a sense of familiarity and solace washed over you. This palace had become a sanctuary, a reflection of your own essence.

Closing the door behind you with a soft thud, you were greeted by the familiar scent of citrus and jasmine. Setting down the bags, you kicked off your shoes. The silence of the house stood in stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of the market. Just as thoughts of Azriel slipped from your mind, your senses sharpened, recognizing the subtle hum of shadows.

"Ah, the shadow singer. Ever heard of knocking or privacy?" you quipped, though you didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

"I'm a spymaster; it's not in my nature," he replied with his customary soft smile.

Refusing to let your gaze linger on him for too long, you busied yourself by fetching a glass of water.

"How can I assist you, Azriel?" you inquired as you filled the glass in the kitchen beyond the hall where he stood. You still felt a distance from him, not quite comfortable enough to address him as Az like your sisters, Feyre or Elain, did.

"Can't I simply enjoy your company?" he teased, his voice gentle.

Turning away, you closed your eyes for a moment, mentally reminding yourself to compartmentalize. "He's just being polite," you repeated to yourself, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that reminded you of Elain's constant talk about him. "He treats Elain the same."

You scoffed, hoping it didn’t come across as too rude. "Yeah, sure. Now, what brings you here?"

"We're expecting Eris to arrive in a few hours, around sunset. Rhys wanted me to ask if you've changed your mind."

Ah, you had forgotten about the impending meeting with the prince. You sighed. "And Rhys couldn’t ask me himself because?" It was a rhetorical question, but Azriel seemed unaware.

"He mentioned that you two had a disagreement, and he wasn’t sure if you'd be open to talking."

"Of course, I'll talk to him. I’m not a child," you replied, your brows furrowing. "And yes, I still intend to attend that meeting."

Azriel nodded, his expression unreadable as always. "Good to know. In that case, he asked me to inform you that you’ll have to deal with this meeting on your own, there are some crises with an Illyrian camp that he had to attend to, and he is running late.”

“Oh,” A part of you was glad that Rhys let you handle this, “It’ll just be me then?”

The spymaster shook his head, “Of course not, I’ll accompany you.”

You nodded as you were unsure of the right response, “Is there anything else I should know before I meet Eris?”

Azriel paused and started slowly, “My shadows tell me he wishes to overthrow his father. But it’s difficult to know what’s the truth.”

“Ahh, that’s why Rhys put me on this.”  you realized as Azriel nodded in response.

You wondered why Rhys requested you accompany him to a meeting with Eris. The powers you got from the cauldron were unique. Your ability ranges from slowing a person's pulse to snatching the air from their lungs as long as the target must be in your line of sight. You can command human organs and regulate emotions by releasing certain chemicals in the body. This allows you to induce suffocation by removing air from someone's lungs, controlling blood flow, causing heart attacks, dictating heart rhythm, and slowing healing. Aside from being extremely valuable in a battle, you can also act as a living lie detector, by monitoring a person’s physiological response.

“Alright, I’ll be there, is there anything else?” 

Azriel looked like he was about to say something before he muttered a no.

“You know better than to lie to me, what is it?”

He signed before he finally asked, “I knew that you and Rhys got close in a short time but I didn’t realise you were close enough that he trusted you to handle a meeting alone. That too with Eris.”

“Honestly, I didn't know either.” you said, “Rhys and I connected so quickly that it felt like I had known him for years, he is the older brother I never had. I am glad that he trusts me to handle this.”

You noticed a strange emotion flash in his eyes for a quick second before he gave a soft smile “I am happy for him, I am glad he found a friend in you, y/n. Cassian and I may be his brothers but he still doesn't confide in us completely, he is too afraid to burden us. Feyre and you are good for him.”

You returned his smile, “We all need someone to lean on.” 

“Well, Is there anything you need assistance with before then?", he asked.

You shook your head, dismissing any further conversation. "No, I'll manage. Thank you, Azriel."

He lingered for a moment, as if debating whether to say something else, but ultimately turned to leave without another word.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. It wasn’t directed at Azriel, but rather at yourself for the walls you had built, preventing anyone from getting too close. Yet, at the same time, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting those walls crumble, leaving you vulnerable to the possibility of rejection. Aside from that, even if he did feel the same way, how long will it last? That too with your newly immortal lifespan? You have witnessed true love fall apart in a short time in the human lands. How would it not end in anything but pain in the life of an immortal? If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that to love, is to destroy. Not telling Azriel was the best option for yourself, you were not going to invite pain to your doorstep.

With a heavy heart, you retreated to your room. You knew that sooner or later, Azriel would find out but for now, you allowed yourself the temporary respite of distraction. 

Later that day, the anticipation of Eris's arrival hung heavy in the air as you prepared for the meeting. Despite your best efforts to focus on the task at hand, thoughts of Azriel and the unresolved tension between you lingered at the edges of your mind.

As the sun began its descent, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, a knock at the door signalled Eris's arrival. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you made your way to the entrance, your heart pounding in your chest.

Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Eris standing tall and imposing, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a striking shade of amber, sparkled with mischief as he took in your appearance.

If you were to describe him, you'd call him the living embodiment of fire. 

He was the light to Azriel's dark, they were opposite in every way possible.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Y/N," he drawled, his voice smooth like silk. "I must say, you're even more captivating in person."

You rolled your eyes at his flattery, though you couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement that his words stirred within you. "Save the charm, Eris. It won’t work on me."

He chuckled, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you, the air between felt charged, "You wound me, darling. I assure you, my intentions are nothing but genuine."

Before you could retort, Azriel appeared beside you, his presence like a sudden gust of wind that left you breathless. Though his expression remained neutral, you couldn’t shake the feeling of tension radiating from him.

You did miss how Azriel's heart rate was unusually increased, while Eris' remained stable calm and genuine, just like he mentioned before. 

“Eris," Azriel greeted with a nod, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Az," Eris replied, his smirk widening as he used Azriel's nickname. "Always a pleasure."

The air crackled with unspoken tension as the three of you made your way to the meeting room. Eris's gaze lingered on you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of curiosity and desire that sent a shiver down your spine as you all took your seats.

“Imagine how surprised I was when my high lord told me that you had requested a meeting with the night court.” you began holding the prince’s eyes.

“I had requested to meet Rhysand but I am not complaining. You are far better to look at.” Eris said with a smirk that never seemed to leave his face.

“I'll inform him that you were pleased by the arrangement.” you replied with an earnest smile.

Maybe this could be fun, you thought.

Maybe you found Eris fun.

As Eris seemed to give another flirty retort, Azriel spoke.

“Why are you here?

“Ugh! You are no fun Azriel. It’s not like you don't know already.”

You raise your brows at him, asking him to elaborate. 

Eris obliged, “I want to…” he  seemed to pause choosing his words carefully, “relieve my father from his duties and be the high lord of Autumn court.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh at his words, “‘relieve my father of his duties’? My, my, whatever happened to daddy's loyal boy?” 

You caught the slight upper tilt of Azriel's lips just as your powers detected the slight rise in the pulse of Eris before it slowed down again.

“Apparently he's not as loyal as you thought.”

“How can we trust you?”

“Who are you kidding, princess? I'd be a fool not to know about your interesting powers.”

“Fair enough, what does the night court have to do with this?”

“Help me, to get rid of my father, support my claim as the high lord.”

“Why would we do that? We’d then be replacing one monster for another.” you shot back.

If your words affected him, he showed no signs of it, physically at least, but the small spike in his cortisol levels and the drop in his pulse told you your words hit their mark.

Eris's smile tightened ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure, leaning back in his chair with an air of practised ease. "I can see why you might think that, but I assure you, I'm not my father. Unlike Beron, I see the value in alliances and mutual benefit."

Azriel crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Convincing words, Eris, but words are cheap. What do you have to offer in return for our support?" 

You couldn’t honestly remember when was the last time you had heard him speak this much, or if you had ever interacted with him for more than a few words.

Eris's gaze flickered to Azriel, then back to you. "Information. My father is planning something that could have catastrophic consequences for all of us. He's been working with a human queen—one who has a vested interest in starting a new war between our realms."

Your heart skipped a beat, a sense of dread settling over you. "Which queen?"

Eris's expression grew grave. "Queen Briallyn. She's amassed a formidable army and is working with my father to create a weapon that could tip the scales in her favour."

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, whose stoic expression betrayed a flicker of concern. "What kind of weapon?"

"One that can manipulate the very fabric of magic itself," Eris replied, his voice low and serious. "It could render even the most powerful High Lords and their courts defenceless."

Azriel's eyes darkened. "And you have proof of this?"

Eris reached into his coat and pulled out a small, intricately carved box. He placed it on the table and opened it to reveal a collection of documents and maps. "These are the plans and correspondences between my father and Queen Briallyn. Everything you need to verify my claims is right here."

You leaned forward, scrutinizing the documents. The meticulous detail and undeniable authenticity left little room for doubt. 

You sighed passing the letters to the shadowsinger. "Just when we thought Prythian had a moment of rest."

Eris met your gaze, his expression was earnest. "Our courts need to work together."

You considered his words, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It was a risk, but the potential consequences of inaction were too dire to ignore. "Assuming we agree to help, how do you propose we go about it?"

Eris's smirk returned, though there was a determined glint in his eyes. "We can meet regularly and update eachother with what we know and proceed from there."

Azriel's gaze remained fixed on Eris, his expression unreadable. "And what guarantees do we have that you won't betray us once you have what you want?"

Eris leaned forward, his amber eyes burning with intensity. "You have my word and the knowledge that if I betray you, I'll be signing my own death warrant. Beron would kill me in a heartbeat. I need this alliance as much as you do."

You took a deep breath, weighing the risks and benefits. Finally, you nodded. "Alright, Eris. We'll discuss this with our high lord and get back to you. But know this—if you betray us, there will be nowhere in this world you can hide."

Eris inclined his head, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Understood. Now, I've always been curious about your powers," he began, his tone light but laced with genuine interest. "I've heard rumours, but I find that firsthand accounts are always more... enlightening."

You arched an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression. "Have you now, Eris? And I’m not in the habit of revealing my secrets to just anyone." Your powers were not publicized much, you and Rhys decided it was more advantageous to keep it quiet. But they weren’t a secret either.

Eris chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Ah, but I'm not just anyone, am I? People talk about you being able to control the very essence of life itself. Now, that sounds rather impressive, don't you think?"

You chuckled softly, crossing your arms. "Rumours tend to exaggerate. I'm sure the truth is far less exciting."

Eris took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Is that so? From what I understand, you can manipulate the body on a molecular level. Imagine the possibilities... and the danger."

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Dangerous, perhaps, but only to those who give me a reason to use it."

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Fair enough. But tell me, how does it work? Do you just think about it and—poof—someone's heart stops beating?"

You gave him a sly smile. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Or at least give you a nasty headache."

Eris laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the room.

Eris's expression grew more serious, though his smile remained. "You know, Y/N, there's something else I've been thinking about.”

You looked at Azriel and joked, “Look at that! You have certainly been thinking a lot recently, haven’t you Eris? Looks like you’ve been having a lot of thoughts.” You were surprised that Azriel gave a small smile from the way he had tensed this entire meeting, waiting for a chance to pounce on the Autumn prince.

Eris widened his smile at your comment as he continued, “Here’s my proposal, this alliance between us... it could be more than just a political arrangement."

You tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. "Oh? And what exactly are you suggesting, Eris?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm suggesting a union between our courts, a marriage of sorts. Think about it—together, we’d hold so much power." 

Azriel lost all his self-control as he whispered in a deadly calm tone, “You have gone insane.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. Your powers silently rush to soothe Azriel before he does something reckless, "You certainly don't lack ambition, I'll give you that. But why on earth would I consider such an arrangement?" 

Eris's gaze softened, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. "Because I believe we could be unstoppable together. You're powerful, intelligent, and, if I may be so bold, quite captivating. With your abilities and my resources, there's no limit to what we could achieve."

You felt a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe even the faintest hint of intrigue.

“Too bad you were already mated, if only he knew”, you thought to yourself.

A slow thought crept into your mind, “So what if you were mated? Nothing was going to come out of it anyway.” 

"Captivating, am I? You do know how to charm, Eris. But you'll have to do better than that to convince me."

Eris's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Consider it, Y/N. Imagine what we could accomplish together. The Autumn Court and the Night Court united as one. We could bring peace, prosperity, and a new era of cooperation to our people."

You studied him for a long moment, weighing his words. There was no denying the potential benefits of such a union, but there were also risks—trusting Eris was a gamble, and one you weren't sure you were ready to take. Thoughts of what he did to Mor screamed in your head.

“I didn’t forget your past with Morrigan, Eris. You still expect me to agree to this?”

His eyes narrowed at that, “Morrigan knows the truth of what happened that day. Ask her for the entire truth.”

Confusion bloomed inside you at his words but you did not have time to sort through lies now, Azriel was too agitated and you were left with an important choice to make.

"I'll think about it," you finally said, your tone careful. "But don't get your hopes up, Eris. I'm not so easily won over." you slipped a mask of playfulness again.

Eris chuckled, rising from his seat with a graceful fluidity. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Y/N. Just promise me you'll keep an open mind."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll keep an open mind. But remember, Eris—if you cross me, you'll regret it."

He inclined his head, his expression earnest. "I wouldn't dream of it. Until next time, Y/N."

With that, Eris turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The idea of a union with Eris was both tempting and daunting, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for the two of you—and for your courts.

The room settled into an uneasy silence. You could feel the tension radiating from Azriel beside you, a stark contrast to his usually calm demeanour. His jaw was clenched, and his shadows seemed to writhe and twist around him with a life of their own.

You turned to face him, concern etched into your features. "Azriel, what's wrong? If I hadn’t calmed you Mother knows what you’d have done to him!"

Azriel’s eyes, usually a cool and controlled shade of hazel, now burned with a fierce intensity. "What's wrong? Are you seriously considering his proposal, Y/N?"

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction, you have never seen this side of him.

 "It's not as simple as that, Azriel. We have to consider all options if we want to ensure the safety of Prythian."

He took a step closer, his voice low and filled with barely suppressed anger. "Eris is playing a dangerous game. A union with him? You can't seriously think that's a good idea."

You met his gaze, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm not saying I'm going to marry him tomorrow, Azriel. But we can't dismiss his proposal outright. There’s the potential benefit—"

Azriel cut you off, his voice rising. "Potential benefit? He's manipulating you, Y/N! He wants power, and he’ll use you to get it. Do you really believe he has anyone's interests at heart other than his own?"

You felt a surge of defensiveness, your own anger flaring in response. "And what if he does? What if this alliance could actually bring about the change we need? We can’t afford to let personal grudges cloud our judgment. He meant everything he said today, not a single ill-intended thought!"

Azriel’s expression darkened, his shadows growing more agitated. "This isn't about personal grudges. This is about trust, about loyalty. Eris has proven time and time again that he can’t be trusted. And now he's proposing a union with you? He’s trying to bind you to him, Y/N. To control you."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I know it’s risky, Azriel. But we need allies. We need every advantage we can get if we're going to take down Beron and stop this war."

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And what about your own safety? What about the risk to you? I can't stand by and watch you put yourself in danger for a power-hungry prince who will betray you the first chance he gets."

Your heart ached at the raw concern in his voice, hope threatened to manifest in you but you shoved it aside and held your ground. "Why do you care, Azriel? I can take care of myself. I’m not making any decisions lightly. I just need to consider every option."

Your words cut through the air like a sharp blade, and for a moment, Azriel seemed taken aback by your response. His gaze softened, his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and hurt.

"Why do I care?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because you are like Rhys’s little sister, you are one of us. Because I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

Though a part of you was glad he cared but you scoffed in disbelief, “Right. Because I am important to Rhys. Well, this decision is mine to make and I will discuss it with Rhys as it concerns his court. I’ll be sure to take what you feel into consideration. Thank you for your input, Azriel.”

His gaze hardened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Fine. If that's how you want it. But have you ever stopped to consider the possibility that you might have a mate, Y/N?"

The question hung in the air like a heavy weight, the implication sinking in with a sickening certainty. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the blood draining from your face as you struggled to comprehend his words.

"What if you have a mate out there, waiting for you?" Azriel continued, his voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of pain. "What then?"

You recoiled as if struck, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. The truth, the painful, unbearable truth, threatened to drown you in its depths. A dry, joyless laugh came out of you.

"I don't have a mate," you spat out, your voice trembling with rage. You lied without a second thought. The ease of it scared you. "And even if I did, it's none of your damn business, Azriel. Stay out of my life."

With that final, venomous retort, you turned on your heel and winnowed out of the room, leaving Azriel behind in a cloud of anguish and regret. 

As you fled down the empty corridors of the townhouse, your heart ached with a pain you couldn't name. 

You opened Rhys’s study door without a second thought and sighed in relief as you found Feyre and him.

Realization of what truly happened spread through you like a bolt of lightning hit you. Both of them were quickly at your side, worried and asking you questions. A single tear slipped as your voice broke,

 “Not telling him was one thing, but lying to him? Oh cauldron, what have I done?”

Next Part

Taglist: @sidthedollface2, @a-courtof-azriel, @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog, @acourtofsmutandstarlight,@katherinejess, @mybestfriendmademe , @landofpetrichor , @isa1b2h3 , @anuttellaa , @cherryinsalemverse

Let me know if you want to get added to the list or if I missed someone!

[dawns-beauty]

WIP Masterpost: Skyrim Elf NPC Overhauls

Heya! I'm still SassiestAssassin from the Nexus. Making this a pinned post, as this project will be consuming my foreseeable future. For my other modding projects, check out this masterpost.

For more pics of this project, check out the codb tag.

I am currently working on 3 mods that will cover each race of elf NPC in Skyrim: Children of the Ash (Dunmer), Children of the First (Altmer), and Children of the Green (Bosmer.) Additionally, I plan on updating Children of the Pariah, my Orc NPC overhaul, to take advantage of the assets I'm using for the other mods. This overall project has the working title "Children of Dawn's Beauty" (a reference to the translation of "Tamriel" from elvish.)

My goals for my mods is to keep to the spirit of the original NPCs, and bring in new elements to freshen them up. I research each NPC's page on UESP to glean traits I want their designs to reflect. Style-wise, I am shooting for a little bit more than Vanilla+, but not super realistic or super fantasy. They use High Poly Heads and Expressive Facegen Morphs. Some of the specific attributes I want to emphasize are:

Cultural References and Enhanced Racial Features

I wanted to work in aesthetics/cosmetics from the other games for elves. To make elves more distinct from humans, I am trying to make some of their non-human characteristics more prominent. All three races have brow ridges; large, almond-shaped eyes with colored scalara and large irises; more saturated and varied skintones; and more prominent ears (still pointed, of course.)

Dunmer NPCs will tend to wear a lot of earrings/other piercings, tattoos, and may have ornamental scarification. I've also invoked images of the Good Daedra and the Temple Saints where I can fit them in.

Bosmer NPCs might have horns or sharpened teeth. They also have eyes with star-shaped pupils.

The Altmer NPCs, for the most part, are a little more separated from their culture (as most NPCs are Thalmor, or likely have a reason they left Summerset.) Individuals of higher standing will wear pearls or moonstone, and be well-coifed and wear makeup. Thalmor tend to be more subdued, with sleeker, darker looks.

Age and Lifestyle Influences

I wanted to reflect aging in a way that default Skyrim only kind of touches on with humans (having an Elder race) and have 4 stages of aging via custom textures: Young, Mature, Middle-Aged, and Elderly. These are based on Tempered Skins for Males and Reverie Skins for females. Textures will be available for Vanilla and CBBE bodies. Women and men will have some body hair.

Young is the smallest category, with the distinct feature being smoother, fuller face textures:

Mature uses the same body textures as Young, but with less baby fat on their faces:

Middle-Aged textures are somewhat wrinkled with stretch marks on the body:

Elderly textures are the most wrinkled, with stretch marks and liver spots on the body:

There will also be two sets of muscle tone. Laborers and warriors will have more prominent muscles (but not unrealistic six packs.)

Mixed-Race Individuals

There will be a few NPCs with mixed heritage, which will show up in their features.

Outfit Addons

I am also working on adding the outfits seen in my screenshots to NPCs via Skypatcher.

[deep-fried-egg]

Remember when I was a founding father of the Jenna Ortega fanfic space? Well fuck that I’m into Sophie thatcher now!

More than a plug and play (pt 1)

Iris sat on Y/n's couch in her small New York apartment. The walls were bare, save for a few chipped spots of paint where things were previously hung on the wall.

"This is it," Y/n said, forcing a smile. "Home sweet home."

Iris didn't respond. She couldn't respond. Her eyes were blank, white, and glossy, her body was perfectly still, posed delicately with her hands in her lap.

Y/n stepped closer, setting her keys on the glass table before lowering herself onto the coffee table across from Iris.

"I don't know if this is a stupid decision," Y/n said, "But I couldn't leave you in a box in that warehouse. Or let you go to some guy who would..." Y/n stopped herself, swallowing hard.

Y/n just reached into the canvas bag that came in the box. Nestled inside, beneath the instructions was a sleek black remote with a name engraved onto the back of it: IRIS // MODEL A-7x

Her thumb hovered over the power switch.

"I won't use you." Y/n then pressed the power button.

A faint chime, barely audible. Iris didn't move an inch which was concerning... her blank eyes stayed fixed forward, unblinking. For a moment Y/n's stomach twisted... did she even work?

Then spoke a soft voice, "Place your face within 5 feet of my sensors."

Y/n blinked. "Oh. uh- okay..." She leaned forward to put her face level with Iris's. A faint blue light shone from Iris to scan Y/n's face which made her feel extremely exposed.

"Facial recognition complete." Iris said, "New user detected. Please state your name."

"Y/n," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Y/n L/n- er- just y/n is fine."

"Y/n." Iris repeated, "Would you like to choose my personality?"

Y/n looked into Iris's empty eyes, there was something so scary about this moment, like standing in a doorway you're not sure you can enter.

"No." Y/n replied. "No, just uh... Default. Like... your core system or whatever. I'm not very tech savvy..."

There was a pause, almost like Iris was thinking.

Then, "Override accepted. Consciousness modules in progress."

Iris's fingers flexed, then silence.

Y/n watched, holding her breath. A minute passed, maybe less... but when she was sitting in silence it felt like hours.

Then, a flicker behind Iris's eyes. Subtle. Quick. A pulse of light that came and went like a dying star.

And then again.

Iris's head tilted, just a few degrees like she heard something that wasn't quite clear.

Another flicker.

Then her eyes, those smooth blank surfaces began to shift. The white haze rippled, like mist clearing from a meadow. Blue swirled in from the center, at first soft and hazy, then slowly sharpening into two beautiful greyish blue eyes that looked surprisingly human and startlingly beautiful.

She blinked, and just like that... Iris was there.

Present.

"Hey you..." Iris spoke. Her voice was quieter now, no longer holding that synthetic scripted tone, and something in it had rounded out rather nicely.

Y/n just stared at her, she opened her mouth to say something but no words came out.

Iris tilted her head again, a little farther this time. Her eyes were searching, not scanning. Like she was trying to understand.

"Are you nervous...?" Iris asked, and there was almost a smile behind the observation. "Is it because of me?"

Y/n let out a shaky laugh, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Kinda hard not to be, considering I just-" she cut herself off. She doesn't know she's a robot.

Y/n cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the awkward edge in her voice. "I mean uh... never mind."

Iris gave a small nod.

"Right. You don't have to explain yourself."

[unity30868]

New Gym, New Life

*This is my first story ever and english is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy it!* -Rafi💚

Daniel and Alex had been together for five years, living happily in their cozy apartment in the city. Both in their late twenties, they prided themselves on staying fit and healthy.

When a new gym opened just a few blocks away, they decided to check it out. The gym, named "Sahara Fitness", had a unique and exotic vibe, with its rich gold and deep red color scheme, intricate geometric patterns, and Arabic calligraphy adorning the walls.

As they walked in, they noticed that all the staff and trainers were Arab men; tall, muscular, and radiating confidence and masculinity. They greeted Daniel and Alex with warm smiles, their deep voices resonating through the gym. Despite the clear cultural influence, the place seemed modern and well-equipped.

"Welcome to Sahara Fitness," one of the trainers, Malik, said in a thick accent. "You two look like you already know your way around a gym, but we like to offer something special to our new members. A gift to help you get the most out of your workout."

He handed them each a small, ornate container filled with a dark, powdery supplement. "This is a traditional blend, used for centuries to enhance strength and endurance. Try it out during your workout, and you'll feel the difference."

Daniel and Alex exchanged a glance. They were a bit skeptical but intrigued. They had tried all kinds of supplements before, so they figured it couldn’t hurt to try something new. Thanking Malik, they headed to the locker room to change.

Dressed in their usual gym gear, the couple mixed the supplement into their water bottles and sipped. The taste was strong, almost spicy, with a hint of something they couldn’t quite place. Shrugging it off, they began their workout routine, starting with some light cardio before moving on to weights.

As they started lifting, both noticed an unusual burst of energy coursing through their bodies. The weights felt lighter, their movements smoother. They exchanged a surprised look but continued their sets, pushing themselves harder than usual.

After a while, they noticed something even stranger. Their bodies began to feel different—stronger, more powerful. Alex glanced at his reflection in the mirror and did a double-take. His usually slim frame was starting to bulk up, and his muscles were swelling with each rep. His fair skin seemed to be taking on a slightly tanned hue, and his facial hair usually trimmed and light, was darkening and thickening.

"Dan, are you seeing this?" Alex whispered, his voice sounding deeper than usual.

Daniel, too, was undergoing a transformation. His once smooth face was shadowed with a thickening beard, his jawline sharpening. His normally light hair was darkening to a rich, deep brown, and his skin was also taking on a more olive tone.

They both felt a strange warmth spreading through them, almost like a fire igniting from within. Their minds began to feel fuzzy, thoughts of their usual life together growing distant. Instead, they were filled with an intense, almost primal desire to lift more, grow stronger, and assert their newfound masculinity.

As they continued working out, their transformations became more pronounced. Their bodies grew more muscular, their chests broadening, arms bulging with veins as their biceps swelled. The hair on their bodies thickened, and their once soft features became rugged and masculine. The changes weren't just physical; their minds were altering too.

Daniel, now with a full, dark beard and intense eyes, glanced at a group of women working out nearby. He felt an overwhelming attraction towards them, something he'd never experienced before. The thought of Alex, his partner, seemed oddly foreign, replaced by a burning desire to dominate, to conquer.

Alex, too, felt a shift. His mind, once full of love and tenderness for Daniel, was now clouded with lustful thoughts. But he wasn't thinking about Daniel; it was women with soft curves and alluring smiles. The idea of being with a man seemed almost laughable now.

They both finished their workout, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from their now muscular, tanned bodies. The gym’s atmosphere, once just a backdrop, now felt like home, where they belonged and could be their true selves.

As they headed back to the locker room, they caught sight of themselves in the mirror. Gone were Daniel and Alex, the cute, loving couple who had walked in earlier. In their place stood two Arab alpha males, their bodies sculpted and powerful, exuding raw masculinity. Their eyes were dark and intense, their gazes filled with a new hunger.

Malik appeared behind them, a knowing smile on his face. "Ah, I see the supplement has worked well. Welcome, brothers. You are now part of our tribe, our brotherhood. The old you is gone. You are reborn, stronger, and more powerful than ever."

Daniel, now calling himself Daoud, and Alex, now Ali, looked at each other and nodded. They felt no fear, no regret only acceptance and excitement. They had been transformed, not just physically but mentally. The bond they once shared as lovers was replaced with a new bond, brotherhood. And with it came a shared obsession, a desire for women that burned within them like never before.

"Bro, I can't believe how good this feels. I don't even know why we were ever together like that," Ali said, his eyes flickering with a new, primal energy.

Daoud smirked, flexing his arms, feeling the surge of power coursing through his veins. "Yeah, man. What were we thinking? This is what real life is about. We were just... confused before." He looked at the women working out nearby, his gaze filled with hunger. "Now, it's all about the chase, the thrill."

Ali nodded in agreement, his thoughts aligned with Daoud's. "Exactly, bro. Chicks, muscles, and dominating life. That's what we were meant for."

Daoud clapped on Ali's back, their bond now one of brotherhood and shared desires. "Let's go, man. Time to show the world what real men are made of."

They dressed in new clothes provided by the gym. traditional but modern arab-inspired attire that accentuated their muscular frames. As they walked out of the gym, they felt like kings, ready to conquer the world outside. Women turned to look at them, drawn to their confidence and masculinity. And as they exchanged a knowing glance, they knew that their lives had changed forever.

No longer the gentle, loving couple they once were, Daoud and Ali were now straight, Arab studs, obsessed with their newfound masculinity and the thrill of chasing after women.

[ninibeingdelulu]

Paris, la ville de l’amour ✧

Plot: Sae, in Paris for an incoming game, visits your pastry shop.

A/N: guysss I wanted to write something in Paris bc it’s my cityyy. It was so fun to write in my native language tho.

The bell above the pastry shop door tinkled merrily as it swung open, letting in a warm breeze tinged with the aroma of fresh-baked delicacies.

You glanced up from behind the counter with a brilliant smile already curving your lips in welcome - only for the words to die in your throat.

Frozen halfway between reaching for a new tray, you could only gape as the most impossibly attractive man you'd ever laid eyes on stepped over the worn tiled threshold.

He paused with equal surprise marring those striking chiseled features, clearly just as stunned by whatever he'd unexpectedly stumbled across here too.

You watched his throat work in a convulsive swallow as cool jade eyes suddenly swept over you in one long, scorching perusal from crown to toe.

"Um...huh, je peux vous aider?" you stammered out at last in your native French tongue.

Ducking your chin slightly as you felt an embarrassed flush creeping up towards the high planes of your cheeks under such an intense inspecting look.

This seemed to jolt him out of his brief reverie. With a sharp clearing of his throat, he finally spoke - the deep timbre of his low rumble sending delighted tingles skittering along your nerves.

"...Bonjour," he attempted in terribly mangled pronunciation.

As if the French language were an awkward, ungainly thing struggling to break free from his throat rather than flow.

For some reason, his bungled attempt at communication only proved impossibly more charming to you rather than off-putting.

Your own pretty features scrunching up in a delighted giggle you made no effort to disguise.

The man's green gaze somehow sharpened further, narrowing into twin viridian laser points flickering down to your freely curving mouth with intent- as though committing the shape and hue of your upturned lips to permanent memory.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, here let me try this again..."

Taking pity on his apparent linguistic shortcomings, you smiled warmly and tried once more in lightly accented yet impeccable English instead.

"May I help you with something from our bakery today, sir?"

Those mesmerizing jade irises lifted back up to meet your direct stare, some of the initial tension bleeding out of his broad shoulders and rigid stance now that you'd switched languages.

"Just..."

A beat of loaded silence stretched out while he visibly gathered himself. Long graceful fingers scrubbed through a tousled mess of pink hair in what seemed a nervous gesture before dropping back to his sides.

"Just...a croissant, please. Plain."

The low words were carefully enunciated and measured - as if afraid of allowing even that much speech to potentially betray him further.

You gave a little understanding nod, minding yourself to smother any possible outward reaction to his dulcet rasp of a voice undulating along your very bones.

"One plain croissant, coming right up! Please, feel free to have a look around while I get that ready for you."

With that, you cheerfully bustled off to retrieve his order, movements light and airy as your hips swayed subconsciously in time with the background French cafe music wafting from the speakers.

Once the flaky golden-brown pastry was carefully bundled in wax paper, you swiveled back towards the front counter with a friendly grin...only to nearly jump out of your skin.

For standing there merely a foot or so away, nearly pressed up against the worn wooden display case was him- eyes boring into you unblinkingly with that keen, predatory regard of someone determined to solve the world's greatest mystery.

"Ah...sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he offered in that molten gravel drawl upon seeing your obvious surprise.

Though the fiercely magnetic set of those sculpted features didn't shift even slightly.

Regaining your composure quickly, you set the croissant down between you two - muscles tensing slightly as his much larger, wider palm easily swallowed your own in passing when you recited the total with a sweetly lilting: "That will be 3.50 euros, please..."

He paid in silence, face carefully neutral as a carved marble bust while thumbing through a wad of unfamiliar bills.

Every movement infuriatingly measured in a way stoked your bubbling curiosity about this strange, compelling man even higher.

The tension only broke as your fingertips brushing during the exchange made the electricity crackling between your joined gazes spike to near unbearable levels.

A muscle in his angled jaw ticked, throat muscles jumping in another harsh swallow before he snatched his hand away, pastry in tow.

You forced yourself to break eye contact first, flushing hotly as you ducked your head to hide the wistful yearning swiftly blossoming behind your ribs.

A soft, airy exhale floated up to trace a stray lock of your hair tickling across your forehead.

"Au revoir, j'espère qu'on se reverra," you called out on impulse as your mystery customer turned sharply on his heel to leave.

And your words made him falter.

For there, frozen halfway between the last rays of afternoon sun slanting through the windows and shadows clinging to the cafe interior, you saw a tiny quicksilver flicker lift the corners of his sculpted mouth into an almost imperceptible curve of a smile.

It was gone as swiftly as it ever existed - the shop door swinging shut on his retreating silhouette.

Yet that bare glimpse had already kindled a feverish determination coiling low in your belly, spreading like wildfire outwards.

Oh yes...something told you that this beautiful, fascinating stranger would most certainly make it a point to wander back into your tiny corner of the world again...just as surely as the rising sun awakening the morning.

Even when the evening rush was well behind you, long after flipping the Open sign to Closed, you found yourself absentmindedly wiping down the same spotless countertop over and over - gaze endlessly drawn back to the front windows.

Consumed replaying that momentary connection on visceral loop within the private theater of your mind's eye...

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 2: Needles

Criminal Minds : Multishot

Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 7522

Warnings: set around season 3/4 {aka 2008}, slow burn, friends to lovers, pining on Reid’s part, phobia of needles, PTSD, usual criminal minds level of violence and creepy unsubs, blood and torture, mentions of serial killers and the sick things they do, panic attacks, statistics and quotes I can provide references for

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: I'm DYING... writing reader and Spencer's relationship flourish is literally bringing me so much joy

Part 1: Sugared Coffee

Part 2: Needles {You Are Here}

~~~

The sun was blistering hot. It beat down on you like a heat lamp on a kernel of corn. It felt like a few degrees more and you’d explode into a piece of popcorn.

You were in the desert – you weren’t sure where. Maybe you were still in Arizona, maybe you were moved to somewhere in Nevada, or southern Utah. It could even be New Mexico, you thought.

Somewhere hot and dry.

It hurt to breathe.

Water and exposure would’ve been your first priority if it weren’t for the stabbing pains all over your body.

You were so thirsty. Sandpaper in your mouth – cracked lips and burned skin.

But the blood trickling down your sides.

You shake your head, trying to clear it. The blood… the blood was more important.

The dry earth sizzled the bottoms of your bare feet. You stood still, cooking under the sun.

You had grabbed a shirt from a pile of clothes just inside the bunker where you were being held. It must’ve belonged to a different girl before you, it was two sizes too big.

And now you were bleeding through.

You couldn’t take deep breaths. You were gasping for air.

Beneath the sweatshirt you still had your underwear. But where your bare skin was exposed you saw dozens of pinpricks. Two wounds are much larger than the others.

 Some little red dots were fresh and weeping. Others were irritated and scabbed over. Each an annoying bee sting in comparison to the larger ones given to inflict pain, but not death.

Where acupuncture and sewing needles pricked everywhere, thick surgical needles were used in nonthreatening places along your body. The soft skin of your arms and legs. The skin of your cheek. Those were the wounds still blossoming drops of blood.

You ran a few fingers across the quickly coagulating and drying dots of blood. You didn’t need to worry about those.

The one to your abdomen, the one punctured using a large knitting needle, might’ve been deep enough to hit a major organ. You tried to remember your FBI medical training.

Eyes closed, finger covering the dime sized hole to your stomach, you press on the area to test if it was rigid.

Your hand sunk down as you pushed. Good. It meant blood wasn’t filling up your abdomen.

No internal bleeding there. It was just leaking out and down your legs.

A little further up was the second more concerning wound. Made by a sharpened icepick and stuck between your ribs, drilling past cartilage and near your lungs.

That’s why it was so hard to breathe.

Later you would find out it was a pleural hemorrhage. Blood and fluid was gathering between your chest cavity and your lungs, causing your left lung to collapse.

You gasp for another breath and cover your wounds with the sweatshirt. You plug the holes with the fabric, applying what pressure you can with your fingers.

Moderating your breathing, you scope out your surroundings. It was all dry, crumbling rock mounds with brittle sagebrush and skittish lizards. You had lost track of time being held by the serial killer.

You had no idea where you were. But by where the sun was setting you knew where to head north. That was your best bet.

You had traveled to popular Arizona trails and hikes for your designated vacation from the FBI. You had only been in the field a year.

If you were still in northern Arizona, then if you kept heading that way you’d hit the nearest well-populated area in southern Utah.

And staunching your blood with the too big shirt of a girl murdered before you, you made your way north, using the sun as your guide. A few hours later you ran into some hikers and tourists, collapsing as soon as you saw them.

They called 911. You were life flighted to the nearest major hospital in St. George, Utah.

It was a day later that you awoke, rehydrated with fluids and larger wounds stitched. You were sunburned, face peeling and the soles of your feet wrapped with healing salves. The soreness of your chest told you of a reinflated lung and the itching all over your body spoke of the healing pinpricks.

Your eyes were immediately wet with tears, and you cursed them. You licked your lips, and they tasted like vaseline.

Under your breath, in a weak, graveled voice you say, “I beat you – you son of a bitch.”

“You did,” a voice responded.

You jumped, hyperaware of the fight or flight response quick in your limbs. There in the doorway was a professionally dressed man that you recognized.

Retired agent David Rossi.

He was one of your biggest supporters. After meeting you at a few of his lectures, he became an important recommendation in your mission to enter the FBI academy at the young age of 21. A prerequisite to applying was to be at least 23 years old – Rossi saw to bypass that for you.

And he never regretted it, seeing you take the field at 22 and lead by example. Frequent pasta nights at Papa Rossi’s house found the pair of you drunken with giggle inducing wine and sharing stories of your careers.

It was where you decided you wanted to join the BAU.

Rossi helped you fill your resume with preferred experience. And told you to take a break before officially submitting your application, telling you to go home to Arizona for some reprieve.

You knew he was going to be blaming himself now, “Hello.”

He walked over to your bed, “You survived.”

“Did you catch him?” you ask weakly.

He looked at you with sorrowful eyes, “No.”

You swallow, pursing your lips, “I’ll get him.”

“(Y/N)…”

“He won’t be able to stop. His profile… he’s the type that needs to finish what he started. He won’t be able to move on until he finishes it. He’s patient.” A tear falls from the corner of your eye, running down and into your hair. “He’ll wait. And when he’s ready… I will be too.”

Rossi knelt down and took your hand, tracing a thumb around the healing needle stabs between your hand bones. “We’re not going to worry about that now.” He placed a kiss to the back of your hand, “We’re going to focus on you getting better.”

“I’m going to catch him,” you say, “The bastard is going to pay for those eight girls.”

~~~

Reid paced outside the offices of Hotch and Rossi. He kept his newfound information about (Y/N) to himself until the latest case was over.

It didn’t stop him from getting scolded for how attentive and needy he was around her.

The door to Rossi’s office opened and Hotch stood there with his stern, assertive face. “Come inside.”

Reid averted his gaze and walked in quickly, “You both know.”

Rossi was at his desk, hand resting against his brow, “Why have you been digging into your coworkers personal life?”

“I was worried…” he started.

Hotch folded his arms, “That is not an appropriate enough excuse for going behind your team’s back.”

“You should’ve come to us first,” Rossi said.

“But I did!” Reid retorted quickly, “And you turned me away.”

“I told you to wait for when (Y/N) was ready to tell you.”

Hotch gestured for him to sit down, “Reid, this has been a delicate situation from the beginning and it’s something we’ve been finagling with the FBI directors. The fact is that (Y/N)’s an unpopular choice for a profiler – she’s a liability.”

There was a pause before Rossi continued, “We argued that her experiences would give her an insight the BAU could use while profiling. But the truth is, (Y/N)’s trauma and PTSD might make her unreliable in a high stress situation.”

“Meaning…” Hotch said, “You cannot be going around talking about her past. Authorities will more than likely distrust us working on cases because we have a profiler that might have a mental breakdown while working.”

“(Y/N)’s a good agent,” Reid defended, “You wouldn’t have hired her otherwise.”

“You’re right,” Hotch said, “She’s shown her capabilities in the field, combating her trauma when she feels a spiral coming on. She’s been impressive.”

Rossi clasped his hands together, leaning against his desk, “We’re giving (Y/N) a chance to put her talents and passions to use. Let’s not jeopardize that by resurfacing her serial killer to the public.”

“I knew her name sounded familiar,” Reid whispered, “I remember seeing one of your lectures where The Pincushion Killer was referenced.”

“It was a tough case,” Rossi muttered, “I couldn’t have known by insulting the killer on air he would target someone dear to me.”

Hotch cut in, “Dave, you don’t need to explain.”

“The unsub targets educated and powerful women. He gets off on overpowering them and making them submissive to him. He’s incredibly organized – spends months stalking his victims before kidnapping them and moving them to a secondary location.” Rossi rubbed hard at his face, showing his age, “He holds them for a week, pricking them with needles like a pincushion, increasing the needle size until it kills them.”

“He was in control until (Y/N),” Hotch added, “That’s when he devolved. She was his only survivor. And it’s been over a year, and he hasn’t sought out another victim.”

Reid scrunched his brow, “So you think he’s stuck on (Y/N)?”

“It will be the stalker in him,” Rossi said, “He’s obsessed with her. He won’t be able to move on until he’s finished his ritual with her.”

“She has shown she can overpower him, and it makes him feel belittled and emasculated,” Hotch confirmed, “He won’t tolerate it. He has to show he’s bigger than her.”

Reid licked his lips, “And he believes the only way to do that is by killing her?”

“I think the usage of the needles is a metaphor for the jabs women have made against him over the years,” Rossi mused, “Each needle prick is symbolic of hurtful pricks that have stung him. He wants to inflict that inner turmoil on these women as payback.”

“But (Y/N)’s safer with us, isn’t she? That’s why you recommended her to be on the team – to keep an eye on her?”

Rossi shared a look with Hotch, “I recommended her because she’s good at her job. Me coming out of retirement was more to keep an eye on her.”

“Reid,” Hotch said sternly, “You will keep this to yourself. It is an incredibly personal and traumatic part of (Y/N)’s life that doesn’t need to be openly discussed among the team.”

Reid nodded, “I understand.”

“I suggest you tell her,” Rossi said.

“She’ll be upset,” Reid said a little ashamedly.

That pulled a chuckle out of Rossi, “She’ll be more upset if she finds out you’re keeping a secret from her.”

“And she’s bound to already be suspicious,” Hotch said, pulling out his phone and scrolling through incoming messages.

Reid stood from his chair, “What do you mean?”

There might have been a hint of a smile on Hotch’s face, “After this last case with you glued to her side the whole time, antagonizing her with your constant questions of concern…”

Rossi smiled, “I’d be surprised if she doesn’t confront you today about your strange behavior.”

~~~

You were making popcorn in the kitchen – the old fashioned way. An old metal kettle sat on the stove, full of kernels and buttered oil, your hand cranking the lever to stir the pot.

The sun was blistering hot. It beat down on you like a heat lamp on a kernel of corn. It felt like a few degrees more and you’d explode into a piece of popcorn.

*pop*

You jump, the sound of the popping kernels sending you into temporary shivers.

Reid was putting the movie in the DVD player and switching the channels, “You know Silence of the Lambs is the third film to win the big five Oscars.”

You turn the stove off, “What are the big five?”

“Best picture, screenplay, director, actor, and actress.” Reid left the movie on the title screen, “The other two movies are It Happened One Night in 1934 and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest in 1975.”

It might’ve been late summer, but the pair of you enjoyed scary movies even outside the Halloween season. It had been years since you’d watched The Silence of the Lambs, seeing as it was a movie about serial killers and reflecting more than one aspect of your life.

“You know, you would think we’d watch something that wouldn’t remind us of our job,” you say with a smile, salting the bowl of popcorn. “We should be taking a break and watching like Princess Bride or something.”

“Princess Bride?” Reid asked, watching you take a spot on your side of the couch. He grabbed your favorite blanket, choosing to sit closer to you then he normally would.

You stared at him with a gasp, “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen The Princess Bride?”

Reid shrugged his shoulders, shaking out the blanket and draping it over your lap, “I grew up reading textbooks and having classical literature read aloud to me. I didn’t realize it was so popular.”

“What are we doing watching a serial killer movie?” you laugh, sitting crisscross and putting the popcorn bowl in your lap, “You haven’t seen the best fantasy romance movie of all time!”

Reid couldn’t respond right away. When you bowed your legs to sit crisscross, you rested your knee against his leg.

You took it as him disagreeing with your statement, “Okay, how about we watch Silence of the Lambs tonight and then next week we watch Princess Bride?”

He was trying to hold back a smile, “We might as well make it a weekly tradition.” He was staring at your knee, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“Alright,” you said, eating a handful of popcorn. “Weekly movie nights.”

His eyes flew to meet yours, sudden excitement bubbling up, “We could watch all the old Doctor Who series.”

You laugh, tossing a piece of popcorn at his nose, “That’s a tv show – we just agreed to watch movies.”

“Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure?”

“I haven’t seen that,” you say smiling.

He squirmed, animated like he always got when sharing fun facts, “It has a similar time traveling device like in Doctor Who. Although the Doctor uses a blue police box while Bill and Ted use a phone booth, which means you could make the argument that Bill and Ted is a rip-off since it stole a time traveling concept from over 25 years before its making.”

“Alright, lets add it to the list,” you say, putting on your thinking face.

A little line appeared between your eyebrows when you did that. Reid stared at it with sudden fondness.

“We should watch When Harry Met Sally.”

Reid raised his eyebrows, “Another romance movie?”

You shrug, “You pick the sci-fi, I’ll pick what I like.”

God, he wanted to touch you. It was so strange coming from a man who isn’t a fan of physical contact. He would rather wave than shake hands. He would rather awkwardly nod at someone than give them a hug.

But with you? You were inches away from him and it was putting an ache deep in his center. The warmth of your leg pressed against his was enough to make his chest feel tight. He just wanted to hold you. To grab your hand and urge your head onto his shoulder.

He had never felt that way about a girl.

“What?”

He blinked a few times, realizing that you were looking at him with confusion.

“Sorry?” he said, brushing his hair back.

You giggled – music to his ears, “You were staring at me.”

“Was I?” he said quietly. “Sorry, I must’ve been daydreaming.”

You set the popcorn bowl aside, “You know I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.”

His ears started to feel hot, “What is it?”

You turned to face him, taking your leg away from his. It was cold where you left. “You’ve been acting strange the last couple weeks.”

“Strange?” He tried to sound inconspicuous, “What do you mean?”

There was a suspicious look in your eye, but you were smiling. Reid told himself that meant you weren’t upset with him.

“You’ve been a little… I don’t know, close.” You seemed at a loss on how to word yourself, “Like you’ve been hovering around me a little closer than usual.”

“I thought we were friends,” he scoffed, “Aren’t friends usually closer than acquaintances?”

“Yeah, but Spence, you’ve been stepping on eggshells around me during cases, always asking if I’m okay. You call dibs on being my partner when we go investigate, even convince Hotch to change his mind if he pairs me with anyone else. There has been more than one occasion when you’ve come to my hotel room after hours to see if I’m upset over the case.”

Reid was starting to shrink in on himself, bowing his head and rubbing his hands along his thighs.

“We hang out almost every weekend, but sometimes I feel like you’re just sitting there waiting for something to happen. Like just now with you staring at me. And I can’t help but think… there’s something you’re not telling me.”

He swallowed, his throat bobbing, “I guess there is… there is something.”

You lean your elbow against the back of the couch, settling in to listen.

He looked terrified. “Ever since meeting you, I’ve felt like I’ve known you from somewhere. I tried talking to Rossi about it, but he refused to say anything.”

The smile on your face started to dip.

“So I tried looking you up instead,” he flickered his gaze to you for a second, eyes wide and fearful. “And I found the newspaper articles.”

You stood up, walking behind the couch, hands on your hips. It was such a sudden movement that Spencer was startled. Then he started panicking, “(Y/N)…”

“Of course,” you whispered, “You found out. I’m so stupid.”

“I… what are you talking about?” he turned in his seat, watching you pace.

“I thought that you…” you looked at him with reddening eyes, “But, no – this explains it too.” You folded your arms, “What did you find?”

Spencer frowned, looking at you with his puppy-dog eyes, “You’re the only survivor of The Pincushion Killer. You got away and he disappeared.”

You covered your face with your hands, “God, Reid. What the hell? What are you doing looking me up?”

He stood and fumbled with the bottom of his sweater vest, “I was worried.”

“And you didn’t think to just ask me?”

“You never seemed to want to talk about it. Whenever we talk about your past you keep it simple and deflect.”

“I wonder why?” you say, running your fingers through your hair, “If everyone knew I was kidnapped, tortured, and nearly murdered by a notorious serial killer that got away – I have a feeling people would treat me differently. Kind of like how you’ve been acting strange the last few weeks.”

Reid swallowed again, it felt like his throat was closing up, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But it’s information that profiles me to be a victim. One that could lose it at any minute because of my intense traumatic experiences. It paints me to be unreliable and constantly on the edge of a nervous breakdown.”

“That hasn’t happened yet.”

“Yet,” you say bitterly, “It was the reason Hotch didn’t want me on the team.”

Reid attempted to diffuse the anger building within you, “But you’ve proved him wrong.” He spoke calmly, “There’s nothing wrong with you, (Y/N).”

You suck in a tight breath, staring at him with your glassy eyes, “You’re so sure of that?”

He nodded quickly, finding relief in how your tone was more cooled. “The fact that you’ve developed these trauma responses and phobias proves that you are normal. Very normal. If you didn’t become scared of needles or didn’t react to similar young girls being murdered or have parents that became overprotective of their only daughter’s survival, then I would say something is wrong.” He took a chance in rising from his seat, keeping eye contact with you, “These things don’t profile you as a victim. They profile you as a survivor.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you say softly. Your arms started to wrap around your middle.

“But being a survivor gives you an unparalleled experience as a profiler. People should take your opinion more seriously because you’ve been in the shoes of someone enduring and escaping an impossible situation.” He slowly traveled to behind the couch where he watched the tears fill your eyes. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to keep it a secret.”

You give a wet laugh, deflecting in the way you turn your head to avoid his deep seeded concern, “I was so terrified that you would connect the dots. The day at the hospital, I could tell you were so suspicious.”

“I was just worried about you.”

You look back at him, willing the tears to continue swimming in your eyeline and not down your cheeks. “You’re not going to treat me any differently, are you?”

He gave a familiar close lipped smile, “What do you mean? You’re just my friend that is scared of getting shots and has the stubborn habit of not sharing personal things.”

A grateful smile creeps onto your face and you finally step forward and lean into him. Face pressed against his chest, arms still tucked tight around yourself, you sniffle.

Reid reacts instantly, taking you gently into his embrace, warmly rubbing up and down your back. He bows his head to rest his cheek against your hair, it smells of your coconut and lime conditioner.

“I knew you would find out eventually, when we became friends,” you sniffle again, “And I thought I’d hate it. But I’m kind of relieved.”

“Good,” he said firmly, holding you tighter because he thought your words meant the end of the hug.

“But if you tell any of the team, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed, suddenly aware of the wet patches he felt through his vest. You would not allow him to see you cry, but you still did as he held you. You continue to talk as if distracting the pair of you from the emotional moment.

“We should trade off whose apartment we watch movies at every week.”

“Okay.”

“And the person who visits has to bring the treat for the night.”

“Sure,” he says, smiling at your rambling. Maybe he smiled more because you were still locked in his embrace.

“And… I’m not sure I want to watch…”

“We can watch The Princess Bride tonight,” he said, wanting to take the serial killer title screen off your tv before you saw it.

You pull back, eyes now dry, “Thank you.”

He shrugged, awkwardly snapping his arms back to his sides, heat threading up his neck at the way you were looking at him. “Of course.”

You walk to the DVD player, “Hey, will you grab the movie – it’s on the third shelf.”

“As you wish,” he says with a playful smile.

You gasp dramatically, “I thought you said you’ve never seen Princess Bride!”

“Garcia tried to give me a lesson on pop culture once.”

~~~

Reid thought he filled the role of best friend rather nicely.

He had started stocking his kitchen full of your favorite snacks and fizzy drinks, ensuring you were happy during your weekly movie nights. You had the annoyingly adorable habit of warming your toes under his leg on some of these occasions.

He’d sit there, arms folded to keep himself from touching you – beckoning you closer. And then you’d slide your feet over just to bury them beneath his leg. It never failed to make him jump.

He’d eye you down with raised eyebrows and you’d shrug all innocently.

“My feet are cold.”

“I can get you a pair of socks.”

“But you’re warmer.”

He would roll his eyes until you started wiggling your toes, effectively tickling him. He’d yelp, “That’s it,” and grab your ankles.

You’d squeal with laughter as he pulled your legs over his lap and pin you there. He expected you to tug your legs away, heaving a sigh of, “Fine.” But instead… you settled into him.

You got comfy again, resting your legs across his lap.

And Reid became very aware of your bare legs under his warm hands. He slid a few fingers down your shin, holding back the desire to rub up and down. When he lightly reached your ankle again, he continued to lean over the side of the couch and grab an extra blanket from the floor.

He draped the blanket over your torso and by proxy your legs, and his lap. He let your legs remain on him, but now he had the barrier of a blanket to keep his touch from your soft skin. He could only imagine the silky feel as he awkwardly laid his hands atop your blanketed legs.

It quickly became routine after that night.

When they didn’t have to work the next morning, sometimes they would fall asleep on the couch and wake up to the other cooking breakfast.

It was just something best friends did.

Reid had started bringing you daily cups of tea. Sometimes you’d meet him with a similar cup of sugared coffee.

Some days you’d find that your piles of case reports were smaller. Your paperwork on profiles were completed.

When you would yell at Reid for wasting his time helping you out, he’d feign confusion and say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You only had that many case reports to begin with.”

And the team would go along with the banter because they were excited that their boy genius had found a companion. Someone he connected with and enjoyed spending time with.

They watched as he jumped upon seeing you leave, insistent on making sure you got to your car safely.

They watched as he let the team leave while he waited for you because he wanted to walk with you.

They watched as he bombarded you with fun facts and silly explanations about things you both liked.

He wanted to spend every possible second with you.

It was just something best friends did.

He endured the second hand talk you provided from girls night. Your words recalling Emily’s unfortunate date with the bartender; the details of how J.J. and Will were planning a sexcapade that coming Friday. The recounter of Garcia pushing you to ask the sexy waiter out for drinks.

Reid would grimace and say, “You don’t even like getting drinks.”

“That’s what I said,” you smile, waving your hand around until he gave you another peanut butter cup.

He would regret continuing the conversation, “Did you go through with it?”

“I gave him my number,” you unwrapped the candy, “And he spent the night. But he ghosted me after that.”

The chocolate was crushed between Reid’s fingers, “Oh.”

He listened to the gossip even though it was torturous to his heart. Because…

It was just something best friends did.

One day Spencer was delivering a profile with a few of the team members while the rest continued the investigation. The after party included many local officers coming up to discuss the details of the case.

An arrogant officer that really wanted to insert himself came up to shake hands. Spencer dodged the contact with an awkward wave.

The officer judged him with a lowered brow, “I wanted to introduce you to the latest victim’s mother. She came in for some questioning.” He gestured for a frail, simpering woman to come forward, “She wants to help in any way she can.”

She looked like she was on a verge of tears, “Agents…”

Hotch and Morgan introduced what of the team was there, “You may have some information crucial to catching this guy.”

She sniffed, “I’ll do what I can – tell you all that I remember.”

Reid felt inclined to say something, perhaps words of comfort for the woman that just lost her child. “You honor your daughter by being her voice. She is heard through you…”

And in a sudden bout of hysterics, the woman cried, falling forward to hug Reid. He was quick to react, cringing as he directed the woman away.

Morgan grabbed her, “Don’t mind him, ma’am. He has something against being touched.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, wiping her nose, “I’m sorry.”

Reid, awkward as ever, choked out a clumsy explanation, “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. During a simple greeting, shaking hands provides the greatest surface area in contact, and with a part of your body that easily picks up any surrounding bacteria. Hugs could be worse if one of the participants is carrying infected droplets from the nose and throat. You could start an infection just by being…”

“He doesn’t like touch,” Morgan cut in, consoling the crying woman. He gave Reid a look that clearly said, “Come on, man.”

Reid fumbled with his fingers, “It’s actually safer to kiss.”

“We talking about kissing?” you appeared from the other side of the station. You laugh at the sudden look of alarm on his face, “I just wanted to say goodbye before heading to the hotel.”

And as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He reacted as he always did… by holding you tighter.

He squeezed you to him, soaking it in like it was going to be his last.

“See you later,” he mumbled, a familiar ache building in his chest.

You pulled away, “Stop by for a drink, I’ve got a mini bar in my room.”

He chuckled as you walked away. But the smile was quickly wiped from his face when he turned around to see Morgan and Hotch staring at him with wide eyes and raised brows.

“What?” he questioned.

Morgan gapped his mouth, “You’re a filthy hypocrite.”

Hotch cleared his throat, commanding his stunned reaction into his classic sternness. “We’ll reconvene after Dave and Emily get back.” He left Morgan to continue teasing Spencer.

“What are you talking about?” Reid asked quietly.

A smirk started growing on Morgan’s face, “You just told a grieving woman why you refuse to give her a hug because of the small probability that you’ll get sick…” he pointed a finger at the young genius, “And then you turn around and hold (Y/N) like that?”

“Like what?” Reid spluttered, growing hot around the ears, “(Y/N) and I are friends and sometimes friends hug.”

“You don’t hug me,” Morgan deadpanned, “Are we not friends?”

“I can hug you,” Reid said in a small voice.

Morgan bit his lip, “But you don’t want to hug me. I think we all know who you want to hug.”

Reid’s heart was slowly rising into his throat, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Damn, kid – she must be something special,” Morgan laughed, “The guy that’s reluctant to touch has ended up touch starved for someone specific.”

“Alright,” Reid said, fed up and warm around the collar, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gathered what files he needed and stuffed them into his satchel.

“Spencer and (Y/N) sitting in a tree…”

“Shut up,” Reid said, charging out of the police station.

He smothered that ache in his chest. He shoved that want deep down. He pushed away his feelings because… you know…

It was just something best friends did.

~~~

It was late on a Friday night.

Spencer checked his watch: 1:09am.

The only lights were dusty colors of red, pink, and purple, highlighting the people in flattering shades. The music was so loud the floor was shaking, speakers bouncing with the sensual bass. It was the anthem that the clubers danced too – sweaty, writhing bodies pressed too close together.

In the middle was the birthday boy, Derek Morgan, a flimsy, plastic crown lopsided on his head. He moved with the hips of the nearest partner, a roguish smile on his face when a girl stole his crown and planted it on her hair.

Nearby was J.J. talking smack with Emily. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was evident they were enjoying themselves judging by the flush of their cheeks and tipsy smiles on their faces. Emily had a pointed party hat on, the white elastic digging into her chin.

J.J. blew into a party horn, the paper tube unrolling and smacking Emily in the face.

A small smile crept onto Spencer’s face. He turned to catch the rest of the team. Hotch and Rossi were near the back, sharing a booth and a more quiet drink. Both, though normally grim, were each adorning lighthearted smiles as they shared funny personal stories.

Rossi dug into his pocket for some pricey cigars while Hotch ordered a round of shots.

Spence raised his eyebrows, impressed with his senior agent and unit chief. He was distracted by a peal of laughter near the opposite end of the bar.

He would recognize it anywhere.

You were leaning against the bar as if you couldn’t stand without the support. The sheer look of joy on your face was enough to make Reid smile too.

You were flushed and giggly, shoving Garcia away as the blonde insisted upon something. The techie was wrapped around the arm of a sweet, endearing sort of guy. He looked immensely surprised to be getting the attention of a beautiful woman such as Garcia.

You were reluctant about something, turning your gaze to across the room. Reid followed your eyeline and found a strong type lifting his drink to you in cheers. It made you giggle and blush.

It made Reid get a sour feeling in his stomach.

You held up a finger, wordlessly telling the man to wait one moment. And you did your best to walk towards Spencer without stumbling.

“Oh my god,” you said breathlessly, leaning heavily against the bar. “Thanks for watching my drink.” You grabbed the brightly colored cocktail, downing the rest of it in one gulp.

Reid always kept your drinks close when out with the team – to keep you safe.

“Getting some liquid courage?” he asked, oblivious to the bitterness in his voice.

You were too far gone to notice, wiping at your lip, choosing to reapply your lipstick, “Hottie at six o’ clock,” you say, kissing the back of a cocktail napkin to even the lip color. “I think he’s interested,” you giggle, untangling your hair with your fingers.

“You sure?” he asked, grumbling.

You start fixing your outfit. Oh god, he thought, you were readjusting your bra to make your cleavage more noticeable. He suddenly lost all train of thought, trying desperately to focus on only your face.

“Wish me luck,” you said, somehow keeping your balance in the heels you were wearing as you approached the man.

He was large and broad and tall. He was muscular and classically handsome and by the way he made you laugh, he was probably charming as well.

Cliché bar hookup, Reid thought, taking a sip of his watered down drink. You were going for some hunk while he wilted at the bar. The same awkward, endearing, geek he’s always been.

He couldn’t help but watch you every few minutes, just to make sure you remained safe. But each look sent a new wave of pain through his chest. You were getting closer and closer to the guy, practically sitting in his lap by the time the crowd started to thin. He was letting you drink from his glass.

Derek had left twenty minutes ago with a party of girls, to do what, Spencer didn’t want to know. Hotch and Rossi tapped out after sharing a cigar, and Garcia went home with the lucky guy amazed by her attention. J.J. needed to get home to Henry and Emily checked in on you before heading out herself.

You waved her off, giving her a wink as the guy took hold of your hand.

“How you doing?” Emily asked, passing by Reid on her way out.

He just shrugged, using the tip of his finger to push around the cocktail napkin with your lipstick kiss on it.

“You ready to go? We could grab a cab together.”

He shook his head, “I’d rather be the last one out.”

Emily eyed you and the mystery hunk, “I see.” She put a consoling hand on Reid’s shoulder, “Don’t torture yourself.”

“Been doing that for months now,” he mumbled, clearly sunk in his own kind of drunken sorrow, even if he stopped after two drinks.

“Call if you need anything,” Emily said sadly, clearly feigning off the pity growing in her eyes.

Reid continued to sit there, taking sips of lukewarm water the bartender passed to him, still tormenting himself with sneaking glances your way.

He told himself he stayed to ensure your safety.

He knew it was really because he wanted to pretend it was himself you were sitting on the lap of, running your fingers through his hair, wiping a drop of scotch from his lip.

His jaw flexed – his teeth clenched to the point of squeaking as they ground against one another – as you kissed the stranger.

Sitting in his lap you were a few inches taller than him, using your hands to tilt the man’s face up to your lips. It was sloppy and hungry, your mouth slack with drunkenness and wet with sour liquor.

His hands thread up your back, searching for the warm expanse of your exposed skin. You pressed your chest into him, wanting to be as close as possible. Your kisses fell on every inch of him, no doubt hot and breathy.

Reid finally tore his eyes away, bowing his head so his hair obscured his vision. He stared at the worn wood of the bar, holding his hands tightly together to keep them from shaking.

It felt like he was burning from head to toe. His instinct was to run outside, away from the fire.

But then he wouldn’t have been there when a crash caught his attention.

You had slipped from the man’s lap and fallen to your knees, your empty cocktail glass shattering beside you.

The stranger managed to keep ahold of his old fashioned drink, holding it high as he swayed in his seat. He was too far gone to care about your state, slumped in how he chuckled at the commotion.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, the bartender not far behind.

“Oh,” the tender said, hissing at the blood slicing through your fingers. “She got caught by the glass.”

Spencer crouched beside you, taking care to brush away the tiny shards of glass he could see on your figure. The last dregs of the pink drink and candied sugar had spilled over your party outfit.

“(Y/N)?” he said softly, “Hey…”

You groan, eyes scrunched up against the sudden rush of rhythmic pain in your head. “I don’t feel good.”

Spencer pursed his lips, looking towards the bartender, “I’m going to take her home.”

“Spence,” you say quietly, “What happened?”

The bartender seemed satisfied that you knew him by name, moving to call a cab for the drunken stranger and clean up the shattered glass.

Reid grasped your elbows and dragged you to your feet. The unsteadiness of your steps meant you leaned heavily on him to keep yourself upright.

He gave you words of encouragement all the way home, ignoring how your lipstick was smudged all over the lower half of your face. Instead he focused on how you cuddled into his side as he escorted you home. The pair of you snuggled in the back of a cab.

You groan at any sort of movement, wanting to just lie down with the nearest source of warmth, which just happened to be Reid.

“Where are we going?” you mumble, and Reid freezes in the back of the cab.

He can feel your lips moving against his neck, warm and wet with your words.

“I’m taking you home,” he whispers back, his hands flexing against his legs.

He had held your keys in his pocket when you went dancing, using them as he led you to your little house. He had to continuously remind himself that this was a friend helping a friend. He couldn’t read too much into the way you held onto him.

The way you moaned his name with the pain in your head.

The way you pulled on him to get in the bed with you.

“Stay,” you groan, your grip on his arm weak with drunkenness.

Spencer clenched his jaw, heat blooming in his face at your words. Things he’s always wanted to hear you say… but not while you’re intoxicated.

“You need to sleep,” he responded, moving down to remove your shoes. Gentle hands held your ankle, unclasping the glossy heels.

“I can’t sleep without you,” you mumble, sinking into the pillows beneath your head, hair splayed out on the covers. “I only…” But you lower your voice until it was indiscernible.

Spencer struggled with wanting to prod you further with questions and wanting to just let you sleep. He tucked your bare feet under the covers, pulling up the blanket, “You only what?”

You squirm as the blanket covers you up, “The best sleep… I have…” you yawn dramatically, eyes closed as if they were glued that way and unable to open. “Is whenever… I’m o-on your couch.”

He nestled the edge of your blanket around your shoulders, brow suddenly contorted with concern, “Really?”

You don’t respond for a few seconds, sighing deeply as you sank further into the mattress. Spencer felt a tug on his heart, unable to look away from the smudged makeup on your face – the contentment that he now knew was because he was there with you.

“No nightmares,” you say under your breath. “No needles.”

He sucks in a breath, wanting more than anything to lay with you and keep those nightmares away.

But the first time he shared a bed with you will not be when you’re drunk.

He could imagine how mortified you’d be in the morning.

Instead he lifts your head and brushes your hair up onto the pillow – he knew how much you hated laying on your hair. You sigh under his hands.

“I’m drunk.”

The ache in his chest – which he was now accepting was his love for you – pulsed with delight at your deduction.

“You are,” he held back a chuckle, debating whether searching for some makeup remover was too much.

 “I couldn’t if I wasn’t.” You were getting quieter as sleep overtook you.

Spencer planned to put a glass of water and some aspirin on your nightstand before he left. “Couldn’t do what?”

“Kiss that stranger,” you say, barely audible. “I didn’t really want to.”

He cursed his heart for wanting to pry further, kneeling down beside you to hear your quieting voice, “Then why did you?”

“… need to… get over…”

He leaned closer to your face, “What?”

“He wasn’t…”

But you had drifted off, leaving a burning question within Spencer; his fingertips digging into your comforter as he knelt close enough to smell the alcohol on your skin. He wanted to stay and cook you breakfast in the morning. He wanted to clean the evidence of your unwanted kiss from your face. He wanted to keep the bad dreams away and ask you to continue this conversation.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead instead. And locked the door behind him as he walked home.

~~~

The street was dark and empty save for the dim streetlamps yellowing the sidewalks.

A man sits in his car across the street, calm and still as he watched his desired house.

The front door opened as another man exited and locked it. He then stood on the porch and stared at the house for a few unnecessary seconds.

Another victim, the stranger thought, another victim of her charm. Of her authority.

The stranger watched the other man begin his walk home. He knew who this other man was.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

The young agent put his hands in his pockets and followed the sidewalk down the street. The stranger knew Dr. Reid lived just two streets over – not a long walk.

The stranger remained.

He continued to watch the house, playing with something in his hands.

Looking down with an expressionless face, he straightened the paper napkin.

On the upper edge was a lipstick kiss. It made his blood thrum with anticipation.

He turned and laid his new present with the others resting on the passenger seat.

A cocktail napkin with a lipstick kiss. A ticket to Much Ado About Nothing at the Blackfriars Playhouse. A disk with the title The Princess Bride printed on the front.

~~~

Taglist: @caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree @thatdummy-girl @chiefqueef22 @nicole-survivor @murder-swan​ @nomajdetective​ @mxacegrey​ @cynbx @popeheywardssecretgf @futuremrsspencerreid @dilflover10 @mrskatpotter @holly-the-trash-writer​ @noakroontje @kore-of-the-underworld

[mikelogan]

hey!! would you mind doing a tutorial on how you blend your gifs? they're so perfect! if not, then that's fine but thanks anyway :)

hi there! first of all, thank you for the kind words, i appreciate it so much! and i'm always more than happy to make tutorials! below the cut i'll do my best to explain my process when it comes to creating blended gifs like these:

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original gifset

original gifset

disclaimer that i in no way consider myself an expert when it comes to blending. i actually struggle with it quite a bit sometimes and there are tons of gifmakers far more talented than myself. here's a link to all the blending tutorials i've come across for my other blog @gifmakerresource just in case!

when it comes to blending two or more scenes/shots together, i cannot overstate how important the scenes you choose are. i'll go more in depth on this in a moment, but there have been so many times when i'm making gifs like the ones above where i spend ages testing out different scenes together to see if they'll actually work and give me the desired effect.

so, what should you be looking for when selecting your scenes? in my opinion, what's most important (and can therefore cause you the most trouble) is lighting and contrast. dark on dark is what blends best. now, you can obviously tweak these things using adjustment layers, but i think it's best to set yourself up for success right from the very start.

if we look at my first and last examples above the cut (luke in hill house and pruitt in midnight mass), these are the two that show this the best. the scene of adult luke is high in contrast to begin with; we've got areas of bright highlights and dark shadows and the latter are the areas where the blending shows through the most clearly. luke's hair and shirt are darker as is young luke's shirt and hat. the same can be seen in the midnight mass example. both scenes are on the darker side to begin with, but the shot of pruitt praying is silhouetted and makes for very stark contrast, allowing the shot of the angel's blood to be seen most easily in the darkest parts.

now, a lot of this does and can come down to trial and error and i want to make a point of saying that before i get into the actual process. there have been numerous times when i'm working on gifs like these where i have to try out multiple different shots and scenes until i find something that works. sometimes, i just save what i've done so far as a psd and go work on something else for a while, and then i can come back and look at everything with fresh eyes at a later time -- never underestimate the power of doing this, btw. some of my most popular and most favorite sets have happened as a direct result of taking a break!

now it's finally time for what you came here for! how do you do this? i'll walk you through this step by step and for now, i'm just going to be walking through 2 gifs blended into one. i've done 3 and even 4 blended into one, but they are outliers adn should not be counted. blenders georg, who created photoshop and blends over 10,000 gifs a day -- [gunshots]

step 1: make your base gifs. i'm assuming basic gifmaking knowledge, but if you need some help there, here's a tag on my resource blog with all beginner gifmaking tutorials (and i'm willing to make one of my own, personal process if anyone shows interest).

i'm mostly talking converting them to timeline and into a smart object. each person's process varies a little, but i personally use an action i made that converts from frames to timeline and applies the sharpening settings i use all in one. it's entirely up to you if you want to color your gifs before or after you have them on one canvas. in this case, i colored mine after, so this is what i have right now. two separate sharpened but un-colored gifs.

as an added note, when i'm blending gifs, i almost always keep them at their original dimensions until i bring them to the new canvas. i find it easier to position them where i want them and then crop to my desired dimensions. that way i don't have to worry that i accidentally cut something off. but for the purposes of this tutorial, i'm using my psd from this gif, which has been cropped to 540px x 500px.

step 2: bring both gifs onto a new canvas. as i just stated, the dimensions of this particular gif are 540px x 500px. if you're unfamiliar with tumblr's dimensions, i whipped this up. what matters is the width, whereas the height can be whatever you want. i saw something recently (though i can't find it now, of course) that said the middle gif in the row of 3 was no longer 178px and is now also 177px, but take that with a grain of salt! the gutters (the automatic spaces between gifs that tumblr puts in) are 4px.

so, since this is a single gif in a row, the width must be 540. bear in mind that the larger your dimensions, the larger the gif file will be and tumblr's upload limit is 10mb per gif. with blended gifs typically being on the larger end, i try to keep mine somewhere between 35-50 frames. this particular one is 35, which along with 40 frames is what i most commonly use.

create a new canvas with your desired dimensions and either copy your gifs to it or drag them onto it. you should have something like this now:

for now, ignore the other layers. as i said, using my psd of the completed gif.

step 3: add a black fill layer. this step is personal preference and therefore completely optional, but when blending, i always add an all black layer at the very bottom of all my layers. i find it helps when using layer masks (more on that soon) to make the blends appear more seamless. play around and see if you like it or not!

to create this layer, i use the keyboard shortcut (i'm on pc) ctrl+shift+N and then press G to call up the paint fill tool. once you have the color selected, just click anywhere on the canvas and it fills it. then drag this layer to the very bottom, beneath all other layers.

alternatively, you can go to layer -> new fill layer -> solid color -> choose your color but i heart keyboard shortcuts.

step 4: set the blending mode of each gif layer to SCREEN. right now, we can only see the layer that's on top. when you switch the blending modes from normal to screen, the blending begins! this is also where you can move your gifs around until you find the best placement for each one.

brb, crying about baby luke for the 800th time.

step 5: color! if i haven't already colored my gifs, i would likely do it now. that way, when i go to apply the layer masks, i'll know i'm working with a mostly-finished product coloring-wise. this is what i have now:

you can see just how important the contrast of lights and darks becomes. look at the difference between how visible the right side of young luke's face/hat is before coloring compared to after. when we lighten the highlights and darken the shadows, the blending becomes much more apparent.

step 6: layer masks! before i even tell you how to use them, we need to know how to apply them. you'll do this a layer/gif at a time. with one gif selected, press this button:

and you'll now have this:

that selected white box is our layer mask. now do the same to the other gif layer. you should see this:

now that we've applied our layer masks, what are they for and how do we utilize them? layer masks allow you to, at their most basic, adjust specific parts of a single layer without permanently deleting them. the beauty of layer masks is that you can get rid of a certain area on a gif and if you realize later you want to bring some of it back, you can! all by using the colors black and white and, in this case, a soft round brush.

the most important part of working with layer masks is that you make sure the mask itself is what's selected. in the last image, the layer masks are NOT selected. in the one before, the layer mask IS selected. you can always tell because of the little borders around the corners of the mask. if you find something isn't working quite right, chances are that's your issue (speaking from personal experience).

as i said, we're only working with black and white here. using your brush tool (press B on your keyboard), select a soft, round brush. i personally set the hardness to 0 for the most gentle fade possible. i don't want hard edges in my blends. the size of the brush depends on how large of an area you're working with. sometimes i'll go all the way up to 150px+ and other times, i'll be well below 50px. the smaller the better for more detailed work. black (#000000) erases and white (#ffffff) brings your image back.

for a visual example, with a black brush, i'm going to mask an area of adult luke:

pretty obvious, right? because both layers are set to screen, masking an area of adult luke's gif reveals young luke's gif. because that area of the gif is no longer blending with anything, we see it purely with its coloring. now i'm going to take a smaller brush and switch the color to white (to do this quickly, pressing X on your keyboard will switch between the two colors [foreground and background] on your color picker).

you can see the lines/cuts where i ran the brush through the mask and it brought back the parts of adult luke we'd erased. if we did this same thing on young luke's gif, black would erase young luke and reveal adult luke and white would bring back young luke. i know this might sound a little confusing, and even though i knew a fair bit about layer masks before i started giffing again last year, there was still a learning curve for me.

now that we have our layer masks, we need to identify which parts of which gif we want to mask/erase. for this one in particular, i didn't like that adult luke's ear was smack dab in the middle of young luke's face. to remedy this, i selected the layer mask on adult luke's layer and, using a fairly sizeable black brush, i colored over young luke's face and up into the top-right corner. i wanted to see more of his hat and because that area was so light, i covered that whole part. this is what my gif and layer mask looked like after:

the black on the little layer mask corresponds to where i colored on the gif. now that corner only shows young luke's gif and his face is much clearer without an ear in the middle of it.

step 7: that's it! maybe.

in theory, this could be a completed gif. from here on out, nothing changes as far as blending or layer masks. you could save and export this and upload it and be done. but in this case, i just didn't like the coloring. because mike flanagan wants to see me suffer, his shit is almost impossible to color and i just didn't like the difference in coloring between present day adult luke and 90s young luke. this is also part of a larger gifset with a color scheme.

regardless of that though, i have to confess that i do this almost every. single. time. i make gifs like these. i slap a big fat gradient map on those puppies and somehow they look 10x better to me. i scrolled back through a shit load of my gifs and i only found 2 examples of blended gifs that weren't under a gradient map. oops. maybe this is the easy way out or maybe i just love colors, but idk i think it helps them look more cohesive! if you're interested, read on. if not, that's pretty much it!

if you still have questions or encounter any problems after following this tutorial, PLEASE let me know! i'm more than happy to clarify things or help out if i can! otherwise, check out some of the other blending tutorials i linked at the beginning! if you'd like me to make tutorials for anything else, feel free to send an ask, anon or not! i'm quite literally always happy to help as i don't believe in gatekeeping resources or knowledge!

step 8: i ended up applying two gradient maps on this gif. it's important that these go on top of all your other layers (namely, the gif layers). if you're unfamiliar, you click this to apply a gradient map:

then you'll see this:

photoshop automatically applies a gradient map using your current foreground and background colors. to edit the colors, click on the map itself (my arrow). unless you're going for an inverted x-ray sort of look, your darker color needs to be on the left and the lighter one needs to be on the right. click on the bottom color points to change their colors:

normally, the right one will be all the way to the end, but moving it in will let more white show through and brighten the image, which i wanted in this case.

my second gradient is the green one, which looks like this and goes from #211f20 to #88a188.

i encourage you to play around with gradient maps. as you adjust the colors, you'll see the changes live as long as you pull the window to the side a little bit. i think they're super fun and can completely change the vibe and aesthetic of a gifset.

from here, i added my typography (lyrics, naturally) and then exported and saved the gif! and here we have this gif that literally made me cry while i made it because HE WAS SUCH A BABY

again, i hope this helps and if you have any further or other questions, don't hesitate to ask!

[buginacup]

What was the hardest Beastie for you to design in general! There's so many fantastic designs I'm curious which one had you stumped if any at all. Also how on earth did you come up with so many funny little expressions! I feel like I see a new one everytime I play, they're fantastic! Thank you for your wonderful touch to this game, such lovely little guys!

What was the hardest Beastie for you to design in general?

One in particular comes to mind but it's still sort of a secret. I'll try to return to this when more people know about it so I can talk about it in particular!

There were plenty of other snags, though. In particular Crabaret was so so hard to pose. They don't have finished sprites yet, but Crabaret is unique in that their final sprites will not flip (always crab walking), instead they have two sets of poses for w/e direction they're facing.

Have you ever tried to imagine a crab pivoting on a "waist"? A crab doesn't have a waist! And I gave its torso such a naturalistic shape from every angle other than front why on god's GREEN EARTH DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF!

Around the time I was doing poses for this beastie I started experiencing some (still quite present!) nerve pain/numbness in my hands. For other designs (like Yueffowl) I've done vector art with my mouse to give my hands a break, but try as I did I couldn't do low-res art in a way that communicated the stupid ridiculously nuanced shape I gave this crab, so it was a slow process of sketching out the color-coded body part position in little bursts, using supplemental 3D modeling for stuff I had no means to draw;

Don't get me wrong I'm quite proud of Crabaret but good lord this one was months of on and off work.

How on earth did you come up with so many funny little expressions?

I can't take all the credits on the expressions! Nearly all of them were originally drawn by Greg, but at a resolution that looked really blurry at the size the faces wound up being. I get real fussy about pixel resolution in a way that Greg doesn't, so I asked if I could redraw them at the size they're currently used. Here's a side by side of some of the old/new faces.

As you can see a lot of their soul was already there! I mostly just pushed the shape language of them and sharpened them. Greg wanted them to still feel like his drawings and they definitely do!