#it actually made me so happy to see an ask in my inbox

[altacctforastarion]

Hey! Love your Astarion works! I was wondering if I could request a nsfw fic of Astarion and the reader 69ing? I was reading through your recent headcanons and it made me realize I’ve never seen an Astarion fic including that before. Thanks for considering my request! :)

Hey anon! Thanks for requesting, I’d actually thought about writing a fic including it so thank you for the excuse! I set this post-game, I think it’d be neat if Astarion could be a magistrate again (I know nothing about magistrates/dnd legal systems tho so it’s vague as HELL), so like y’all have a cute lil house in the city and Astarion is a late night magistrate. Just for fun. Also:

I think 69 only happens when he’s not the dominant one tbh, any other time I think he wants to see you while he goes down, so he just won’t let you, but if you’re in charge he lets you decide. And if you decide you want him whimpering while he pleases you, he whimpers while he pleases you 🤷🏻 so here is Sub!Astarion 69ing!

Warnings: 18+ obvi, mdni, oral sex (both receiving), Sub!Astarion, 69ing, blood drinking during sex, slight praise kink (he receives), you’re a super soft dom, AFAB reader, no pronouns for you and no use of y/n. Not edited at all, please tell me if there are any awful typos

Edit: forgot about tag list:

@lotus-ignis @astari0nsju1ceb0x

If you want to join the list dm/reply/or leave a note in my inbox!

Astarion was quiet, sitting up in your shared bed with a book on his lap and a scowl on his face, he’d barely spoken since he’d returned to your home from work, giving you a tired, half-hearted smile and a “Hello, darling” and then having a long bath with a glass of wine. You’d given him space, waiting in the bedroom for him to come to bed.

When he’d joined you, wearing only underwear and a silk black robe, he’d kissed you, a simple peck on your lips, and then picked up his book, reading in his unusual silence. He doesn’t like to talk much when he’s had a bad day, both because of a need for decompression, and because he doesn’t want to give himself an opportunity to lash out at you.

It had only happened once, and he’d only given a snarky reply to a question you’d asked when he got home, an apology on his lips as soon as he realized what he’d done, but since then he’s been careful, calming himself before he tells you all the details, relaxing at least a little before he allows himself to interact with you how he usually does.

You keep yourself busy with your own book, until you hear him close his book and speak, agitation coloring his tone, “Someone lost all of my paperwork before I got there, and it was a pain to find them. Everyone I dealt with today was an idiot, and there I was, in charge of all of the idiots with my lost paperwork. And now I’m home, with you, and I still feel that weight instead of relaxing. Come here, would you?”

You put your book on your nightstand and move over to him, going in for a cuddle but he pulls you to him and kisses you, gentle at first but then there’s hunger, his tongue pushing into your mouth. He pulls you until you’re on top of him, his hands on your hips, and the kiss breaks as you adjust, your legs on either side of him. An idea hits you, as you look down at him, at his tired eyes and the tension that lingers on his face, “Would you want to change how we do this? You could just lay back and let me take care of you?”

He looks surprised at first, and then it’s masked by flirtatious confidence, “How sweet of you, darling. How would you “take care of me”, exactly?”

Your skin flushes, and he eyes your neck, watching the blood go to your cheeks, “We don’t have to, I just… when I was leading back then, right before we fought the brain it was nice when you made the decisions in bed, I just did what you wanted and let you have your way with me. I thought maybe I could do that for you? If you want to. If not I’m perfectly happy with-“

“You avoided my question. How would you take care of me, if I allowed it?” You catch the word allowed, and realize he’s not teasing you, not trying to pull dirty talk from your lips, he’s being cautious. He’d been used and abused for years, all while retreating into his mind and he won’t have that happening again. No, if you have control over him it’s because he let you, not because you took it, and no matter how much he loves and trusts you he needs details.

“I’d use my hands, or my mouth, or maybe both on you, and when you fucked me we’d do it like this, with me on top and you can just lay there and let me. I’d tell you beautiful you look under me,” You move down, his face in your neck and your lips to his ear, “I’d let you drink from me like this, while I’m on top of you, and maybe you’d be inside of me. I’ll do whatever you want, Star, you can just ask and I’ll give you anything. You can relax and let me please you, the only work you’d have to do is drinking from me.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, and when you move again, so you can look at him, and he looks significantly more interested in your offer. “You’ll stop if it’s too much? If I don’t like it?”

“Of course, same as always. If you aren’t enjoying something let me know and it stops right away.” You reach for his face, cupping his jaw, “We don’t have to do this either, it’s all for you, what do you want?”

“I..I want you that, it would be nice to stop thinking for a bit. Have your way with me, love.” He says the first part tentatively, but he’s smiling flirtatiously when he finishes speaking, and you smile back at him, eager to start.

You climb off of him and remove your clothes, urging him to do the same, and he teases you about your eagerness, telling you if you wanted a taste of him so bad you could have simply asked, laughing when you throw your shirt at him in response.

—

Astarion’s gasps are constant, in time with every time you let him into your throat, his hips bucking against your hands that are keeping him mostly still. He’s deep in your throat when his hands bury themselves in your hair, your name coming out in a low moan before he speaks, voice hoarse, “D-darling,” He cuts himself off with another moan, followed by a curse as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head of his cock and look up at him, “Darling- oh, gods do that again.”

You’d hollowed your cheeks, sucking him into your throat on a slow descent, your tongue licking at the underside of his cock, and when you repeat it he whines, high in his throat, and his hands pulls your hair lightly. He lets out a shaky breath when you pull back, letting his cock slip free from your mouth, and looking down at you with a vaguely scandalized look on his face.

“You were trying to say something, I didn’t want to distract you. What were you about to say, Astarion?” You smile, and he glared down at you.

“I was going to say I wanted to return the favor, but then you decided to be a devil.” Dramatics aside, he still looks down at you with want.

Your hand ghosts over his cock, fingers trailing up and down with light touches, just to watch him squirm, enjoying the redness on his face afterwards, and you continue with your teasing touches while you speak, “You want me to stop doing this? Or were you asking for that after this?”

“I- gods I don’t know. Don’t make me choose, you’re in control tonight.” His eyes flick away from yours, and you can sense giving up that control is difficult, he’s making an active choice to leave things to you.

Not wanting to give him time to linger, you lick a stripe up his cock and take him into your hand as you feel his thighs shake just slightly. You stroke him slowly, your grip firm as you contemplate, feeling the ache of your untouched cunt. “I saw a painting at a brothel once- don’t ask, I won’t tell you. A woman was on top of a man, using her mouth on him while he used his on her. Would you want to try that? It’s completely fine if not, but if you don’t you’ll have to wait to return the favor, I’m not done with you yet.” You finish your sentence with your thumb circling the head of his cock, and he lets out another low moan, whispering your name like a curse afterwards, like it’s the only thing in his mind. His head has fallen back on the pillow, and you can see as his eyes close, his lashes fluttering against his reddened skin.

You continue to stroke him as you wait for a reply, and you speed up when his hips buck up, a little high-pitched sound leaving his throat before he speaks, “You’re in charge.” He says it like he can barely force out the words, lost in the pleasure you’re providing. He makes a needy sound when you let go of his cock despite giving you the okay to change things up, and you can’t help but to lean down and lick up his cock again before you move to get into the position you’d described. He gasps, and his hips chase your lips but you’ve already moved away with a smile at him, at the desperate look in his eyes as he looks at you.

—

You breathe out a little laugh as you attempt to get into the foreign position, feeling a little silly at how you’re moving while you arrange yourself. And you hear him sigh, amused, “Can’t you take anything seriously?”

He helps you get your legs on either side of his head and when his breath ghosts over your core, you lose your humor, a little gasp leaving your lips. “Is this ok? Are you comfortable?”

He doesn’t respond verbally, instead you feel his hands on your hips, and then he pulls you down, his tongue delving into your folds immediately, none of the normal teasing as he licks you with fervor, his moan matching yours as he tastes your wetness on his tongue.

You let yourself drop to your elbows, a hand coming up to move his cock before taking him into your mouth, feeling him moan against you, the vibrations stimulating your clit wonderfully, you begin to move your head, and you feel him move his head before his tongue pushes into your entrance, and your hips move on their own accord, grinding down on his face before you catch yourself. His cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop as you lift your body up. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful!”

He sounds starved when he answers, pleading, “Please do that again.”

You flush again, and hesitantly lower your hips to his face, listening to him moan when he returns to his task, his tongue entering you, and you slowly, carefully, grind down on his tongue, a moan ripping from your throat at the feeling of it inside you. You do it again, just as slow before he pulls your hips down and rocks your cunt against his mouth with force, before letting you go, a clear indication of what he wants from you.

You take the suggestion as you take his cock back into your mouth, letting your hips roll against him with a little less fear of hurting him, and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. You fuck your own throat with his cock, rocking forward to take it in deeper and rocking backwards onto his face after, and you feel the little sounds he’s making against your cunt even though you can’t hear them.

You hear the loud whimper he lets out when you focus on the head of his cock, feel how his tongue falters in its movements for just a second when yours laps at him. He won’t last long like this, and you fight the urge to ask him if this is how he’d like to cum, reminding yourself that you’re in charge. You decide you want him to cum inside you instead, and you pull off of his cock, a loud whimper coming from him, “Will you make me cum, love? Then I’ll ride you while you drink?” You lift your hips up slightly, to give him the option to refuse or voice his approval, half expecting him to just pull you down again.

“Please let me?” He pleads, his hands gripping your hips.

“Let you do what love?” You ask, confused, your hips lifting up a bit more, and his grip gets tighter as you hear him whine.

“I want you to cum like this, please. Use- use my mouth.” He sounds desperate for it, like he wants nothing more, not even bothering to acknowledge the rest of your proposition.

You let out a little moan, loving every little bit of his desperation for you, and lower your hips again. He sucks at your clit greedily, tongue flicking against you and you moan and you lean down to lick at his dripping cock, little tongue flicks that match his, and you feel his whimpers as you let him back into your mouth.

You get close quickly, moaning around his cock and rocking back on his face, feeling and hearing the desperate sounds he makes against your pussy. You feel his tongue enter you again and that’s all it takes, crying out as you cum on his face, letting his cock fall out of your mouth, licking at it while you recover.

He doesn’t stop immediately after he’s worked you through it, and you gasp and twitch from sensitivity, lifting your hips up and feeling his tongue chase you.

You move off of him, your wobbly knees making it difficult but he helps you, until you’re on the bed next to him. Your hand cups his jaw, the other going to his curls, playing with them, “Are you alright, love? How are you feeling?”

“Like you should have shared your brothel knowledge sooner. Kiss me, please?” He asks, already reaching for you. You give him what he wants, of course, laying down next to him and letting him pull you in for a kiss. His tongue briefly dipping into your mouth, your taste on his tongue, before he breaks the kiss. “I’d like to be in you now, if that’s ok?”

“Of course, Star.” You kiss him again, for just a second before straddling him, his cock wedged in between his stomach and your pussy, “You’re doing great for me, my love. So fucking good, just for me.“

Astarion’s face flushes again, “Yes, yes. Now get to it.” After a delay, and the twitch of his cock giving away how much he enjoys the praise, he amends, “Please, darling?”

You lean down to kiss him as you line his cock up with your entrance, and your tongue enters his mouth as you sink down on him, swallowing his groan. His hands go back to your hips, and you have a new idea, “Would you like for me to hold you down? I could hold your hands?”

“If you’re gentle, we can try it.” He looks a little anxious, but excited, and you’re slow as you go for his hands, your fingers sliding in between his when you’ve moved them to the bed on either side of his head. You apply light pressure, and rock down on his cock, before riding him slowly, just a few thrusts to see how he feels about your new position. He attempts to move his hands, you barely let them raise an inch before they’re back against the bed, he groans, “Gods, yes, that’s good. I like that.”

“So good, Star, letting me try new things on you. So pretty.” You praise, before you start riding him, and the angle has his cock hitting that spot inside you on every thrust. You gasp as you start to speed up, and he lets out a little whine. You watch his eyes close, lost in his pleasure, and his hips buck against you occasionally, his cock pushing into you just right.

You wait until you’re both getting close before you let go of his hands, and his eyes open in surprise, but you just smile at him and cup his jaw again, “Would you like to drink from me?”

“Please.” His voice comes out in another whine, and you lean down, pulling his head and upper body up towards you as you continue to grind on his lap.

You’re so close, and when his fangs pierce your neck, you cum, gasping from the sensitivity as you continue to move on his cock, and you feel him moan against your neck as you clench around him.

He hips thrust up into you while he drinks, before he shudders and cums, and you feel him lapping up the blood that spills freely while he’s distracted. You stay on his cock, petting his hair while he finishes drinking from you, his cock slowly softening inside you.

When he’s done you start to move off of him, to get clean and help him do the same, but his arms wrap around you, his face still buried in your neck, “Stay, please?”

“Of course, my love. Are you alright?”

“Just you, like this.” He breathes in your scent deeply, his lips on your lightly bleeding pulse, “Thank you for this, love. I..I really needed it.”

“Thank you for trusting me, beautiful. I’m glad it helped.”

[columbiastapshoes]

Please... Mayhaps you share with us your Columbia headcanons?

*Coughs pitifully and holds out hands*

🤲

fear not i am here <3 i may have posted some of these already so i apologize if i repeat myself BUT she is my pookie and i have thoughts.

- LOVES betty boop. has her alarm clock set to whenever it’s on tv and everyone in the castle can hear her running down the stairs to watch it. if anyone touches the remote while betty boop is on she will ask magenta to kill them

- new wave. send tweet. loves bands like the b52s, oingo boingo, cyndi lauper, etc etc

- has a stuffed animal that she’s emotionally attached to. she’s had it since she was a kid and it has no stuffing in its neck but she refuses to fix it bc that would involve cutting a hole in it to replace the stuffing

- walks on the balls of her feet. also t. rex arms. also flappy hands when she’s excited. **autism.**

- this is more about her and magenta i’m sorry i need to spread the lesbian gospel.. magenta was the one to cut/dye her hair . most homoerotic haircut columbia had ever experienced.

- not cis. i know this in my bones. i agree w basically every gender hc people have for her, my personal take is that she just uses any pronouns and doesn’t care <3

- big big big music lover. always has it playing. like i said earlier she does have a favorite genre but she’ll listen to anything and dance to it in her room :3

- if you ask her about your interests be prepared to sit there for a full hour she will yap into hell and back (/pos this is a good thing in my book. and magentas book she will listen to her allll day)

- she canonically has a poster for beyond the valley of the dolls in her room (do not ask about the lengths i went to to find this out. it was such a journey. a spiritual experience if you will) so i think she loves weird dramatic movies like thattt <33

- trinket fanatic. every time they go shopping she has to buy at least one (1) useless item that looks funky

- rollerskates!! she has really funky skates and loves skating around the castle bc of how much open space she has. she also got magenta to skate with her and magenta was Terrified she held columbias hands so tightly that it hurt <3 (this happened with my girlfriend a week ago she is really good at skating and i was Afraid)

i will probably think of more later and reblog this but … there is your food anon <3

[thewanderingmask]

Hellooo sorry to barge into your inbox like this but I am going FERAL over your Joel winner art so I hope you can excuse this senseless essay of a ramble

First off, stained glass window art?? Yes please?? I love how the entire fandom has just accepted that kind of style for the winners and it's FABULOUS. I absolutely adore your art style and Joel looks SO COOL in it!!! The sword and the ender pearl is perfect (the sword because he's a fighter, the pearl because that's how he died!!)

The hands around him!!! I LOVE how distinct every single one of them are, you can immediately tell who they belonged to. (Okay, the black long-sleeve thumbs-up is giving me trouble. Gem?? But the others going clockwise I BELIEVE are Pearl (the crown ring!!), Ren, Bdubs, Cleo, Tango, Grian, and Etho.)

The backgrounds are LOVELY and immediately distinct: Gem's barn, Scott's cake, Scar's roller coaster, the Tuff Guy's bases, the Spanner's bridges, and the bamboo for the Bamboozlers!!

THE FIVE PREVIOUS WINNERS!!! Quite frankly I consider it silly that we've been canoodling around with celestial objects for so long and I LOVE the symbols you chose for everyone- the red eye for Grian, the stars for beloved Scott, the crescent moon for Pearl, the sunflower for Scar and Martyn's shirt design!!

I'm deeply fascinated by the flowers- the cherry blossom is most likely a tie to his s10 base, but cherry blossoms also symbolize the balance between life and death, beauty and violence. Very fitting for our family-oriented yet ever bloodthirsty Joel!! The blue ones are most likely forget-me-nots, which also fits very well with Joel's ideals of making alliances and having "friends, not family".

"It's Your Turn"... man, I was rooting so hard for Joel this season and I'm SO HAPPY he won. Man deserves a victory.

I'm terribly sorry for this block of text but I just really wanted to tell you that your art is APPRECIATED and your style is FABULOUS and it always makes me smile when it pops up. Keep creating, my friend, because you have gorgeous talent and I'm incredibly grateful you shared it with us. Cheers!

hi anon and thank you for this lovely message, it made my day

longer art talk under the cut

you're absolutely right about all the hands, well done figuring out gem! it was based on her red life skin, but i couldn't think of anything to make it more clear who it was.

(at least, not until after i'd already finished and posted the piece)

flower language is rad and i did wonder about the meaning of the ones in here, but didn't actually think to look anything up. i like that the blue ones are forget-me-nots! i added them to the winners' circle as a nod to cleo's avatar!

because i literally forgot there were 6 previous winners until i'd already committed to the composition.

the series i forgot about was actually limited life. idk why. i'm new actually haven't seen any series before this one. (i also had to check with a friend of mine who's been watching the series a lot longer, to see if the symbols i'd picked would work for the other victors)

anyway since Real Life was april fools and not really played the same way as the others, i figured it made sense to add martin to the symmetrical circle of 5, and put something around the circle to represent cleo. hence the blue and yellow flowers!

and yep the sakura is hugely inspired by his hermitcraft base, plus the trees at the site of the final fight. learning it has meanings that work so well for his performance just puts such a smile on my face!

(since drawing this, i've seen other people using a comet, which is also so freaking good)

anyway thank you again for this ask, and for giving me an excuse to go off about how i put Very Much Thoughts into art sometimes

i haven't really interacted with many folks in the fandom itself! i'm shy, and i'm generally pretty happy to sit quietly in my corner and sometimes throw a piece of art to the winds to go wherever it might. but a result is that i don't always know how my art is received, if it lands, or it if it feels off to folks who've been around longer.

so your message made me really happy today! thank you!

[kameyyy]

phone started autocorrecting met to ‘mey’ and i don’t know what that means but i think it’s saying we’re soulmates??

omg wyr you don't know how big the smile on my face is rn. this is evidence that soulmates really exist, truly, like we are THE example of soulmates!!!!

[archersartcorner]

(Not a question but thought id share) I spent my day in emerg getting stitches after busting open my knee, and all your Norm and Skip content kept me calm and happy. Ty for drawing my favorite goobers <3

Literally am so touched by this, you have no idea 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry to hear about your knee but I’m glad my art’s been lifting your spirits!!! 🥺

Some extra goobers for you, hoping for a smooth recovery your way!!!

[impostorsshow]

Happy birthday! I accidentally sent this in the inbox and I’m not so familiar with communication on tumbler sorry

ITS MY BIRTHDAY??

i am so sorry to inform you that you either sent this to the wrong tumblr or you were terribly lied to, i actually am forced to have a joint birthday with my little brother sans undertale every september 15th

[maidragoste]

Fatherhood

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

More of Daemon's Wife au

Summary: A glimpse into Daemon's life as a father.

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 🥰🥰💖💖

If you have ideas or thoughts for this series you are welcome to share them in my inbox 🤭

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

After watching your husband act like a fool for days you finally lost your patience so tonight when Daemon climbed into bed with you and started kissing your neck you pushed him away.

“What did I do?” He asked, knowing that you were upset by the frown on your face.

"You're ignoring Baelon," you accused him without any doubt of your words.

Since the two of you had came back home from the war, Daemon had barely been to the nursery and when the whole family was at the table he never tried to talk to Baelon. You didn't expect him to instantly become familiar with his role as a father., after all, he hadn't been able to meet their son before, but you never thought that your husband would look for any excuse not to be with your son.

"He doesn't like me so I'm not going to bother him" he responded, wanting to appear unconcerned but you know him well so you know that this actually bothered him.

When you and your husband returned from Stepstones, your son had burst into tears the first time Daemon spoke to him. You noticed the pain in your husband's eyes when Baelon hid his face in your neck, refusing to see him. You didn't blame your son for being afraid since it was the first time he saw his father. You knew Daemon had been excited to finally meet Baelon so you understood that the boy's reaction would have disappointed him but you didn't expect him to decide to distance himself because of that.

"He doesn't like you because he doesn't know you yet," you explain now in a softer tone. "Daemon, I don't know what you expected from your first meeting but he acted like any other child would. He doesn't know you so you have to earn his trust. He's not going to love you just because im tell him you're his father. You have to spend time with him," you advised him as you traced random patterns on his chest, hoping he wouldn't take your words the wrong way.

"I will," he promised before kissing you on the lips. He was satisfied to see that this time you didn't push him away so he continued kissing you again and again.

And Daemon really considered your words because after that night he started spending more time at the nursery. At first, Baelon looked uncertainly at Daemon when he spoke to him but you always encouraged him to respond. In addition, it also helped that your son saw that you were always calm and smiling around Daemon, so little by little the boy began to gain more confidence. Every time you were about to tell him a new story, Baelon asked his father if he knew it too and he listened attentively every time Daemon contributed. When he realized that his father also knew High Valyrian, he began to proudly tell him the words he had learned so far and asked him to also teach him new words, now at the table after the servants brought the food Baelon spent his time asking his father what he liked and what he didn't, interested in knowing more about him. Not only that but Baelon also started inviting him to the walks the two of you take together on the beach. Seeing all this, you were proud of the progress between father and son and it made you happy to see the happiness on Daemon's face every time Baelon asked his opinion or asked him something, not to mention when he held his hand for the first time while the three walked together in the beach.

But still, you couldn't help but notice that the two of them were never alone, you were always there as if they wouldn't dare to be alone.

"Where is he going?" Baelon asked, looking with a pout at his father's back as he walked.

"You Kepa is going to go see his dragon" You smiled as you came up with an idea so that they could spend some time alone "Do you want to go with him?"

You weren't surprised when he let go of your hand and started running after Daemon shouting "Kepa! Kepa!" Your husband soon stopped and turned to see the little copy of him running towards him with a big smile. He felt his heart warm at the sight. When Baelon was a few steps away from him, he approached and picked him up without warning, making the boy squeal with happiness.

"I want to go with you," the boy announced before his father could ask him what was happening.

Your husband looked at you waiting for you to say something but you were already raising your hand saying goodbye to them with a smile. Baelon moved his hand back and forth until you became a distant speck on the beach.

"What's the name of your dragon?" the boy asked, still in his dad's arms as he walked.

"Caraxes" the father responded with a smile even though this was not the first time his son had asked him that.

"It's like Wing?"

Daemon would be lying if he said he wasn't fond of hearing how Baelon called your dragon Wing because according to the Nightwing boy he was too long.

"Caraxes is much grander than the dragon on your muña," the prince responded, feeling his smile grow larger as he imagined your indignation if you would listen to him. A part of him hoped that Baelon would later tell you this just to see your reaction.

"He's giant!" Baelon exclaimed impressed when he saw the red beast. "Will my dragon be like that too?" He asked excitedly.

"Probably but in many years" Daemon replied and poked his nose when he saw him pouting "Do you want to pet him?" Instantly the pout was replaced by a smile.

"Yes!" the boy shouted excitedly and before Baelon went to touch the dragon, Daemon took his son's small hand before placing it and his carefully on the dragon's face. He did not believe that Caraxes would do anything to him but he preferred not to risk it, it was known that dragons did not usually react well when someone who was not their rider approached them with too much confidence and the last thing he wanted was for his son to end up hurt so he was for a while talking to his dragon while they both caressed it.

Daemon could remember the proudest moments in his life: when he claimed Caraxes, when his father gave him Dark Sister, when he called you his wife for the first time when you told him you were pregnant and now it added up to see his son bond with his dragon.

They were there for a while. Daemon listened with amusement to Baelon's ramblings about how giant Caraxes was and that he surely had to eat a lot to achieve that size, all while never stopping petting the dragon. Until started to get dark then they headed back to the castle.

"I like Wing more" the boy confessed once the figure of the dragon became a distant speck.

"Tomorrow you will come to fly with me and you will see that Caraxes flies faster," the prince said instantly. He had to change Baelon's mind before he said that again but in front of you. He could already imagine your cocky smile and how you would never let him forget it.

"Let's fly now!" the boy squealed excitedly.

"We can't now, your daughter must be waiting for us for dinner" the father explained, and seeing that  Baelon seemed about to complain he added "Would you like her to have dinner alone? I'm sure that would make her sad"

"No, let's go with muña!"

During dinner, Baelon spent his time talking non-stop about Caraxes and how tomorrow he would fly with his Kepa. You listened to everything with a smile and only interrupted your son's ramblings to remind him to eat before the food got cold.

In the middle of Baelon's talks, Daemon took your hand and kissed it. He didn't need to tell you anything, you could see it in his eyes, he was grateful that you encouraged him to stop hiding and that he would make an effort to form a bond with his son.

When it was time for Baelon to go to sleep you and him got up from the table to go to the nursery but first Baelon said goodbye to his Kepa with a kiss on the cheek. You encouraged your son to go ahead with one of the maidens while you stayed with Daemon.

"I'm proud of you," you said as you took your husband's face in your hands and leaned in to kiss him "I can't wait to see you with the next one" you declared between kisses.

Your husband took a while to register your words because he was distracted by the taste of your lips but once he did he stopped kissing you to look at you impressed.

"Are you pregnant?" He asked just to make sure he understood correctly although he could already feel his heart racing.

You nodded with a smile and let out a laugh the moment Daemon pulled you onto his lap. You kissed his neck while his hand rested on your stomach. You still didn't show but he couldn't wait to see how the life inside you grew. He couldn't be by your side when you were pregnant with Baelon but this time it would be different, this time the two of you wouldn't have to discuss the baby's name by letter, this time Daemon would feel the baby's kicks instead of having to imagine it, this time if you wanted him, he would be by your side when you gave birth, this time he wouldn't have to wait years to meet his son. This time he would be there to see him grow.

"This time I won't miss anything," he promised, kissing your forehead.

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[sincerestlove]

Girl Crush

hello hello hello! i am so sorry for the long break - but i'm so happy to be back! i hope you all are doing well. i have quite a few requests sitting in my drafts, so once i get through those, i am happy to reopen my inbox for requests, if you guys want. anyway, these 3 requests were quite similar to each other, so it just made sense to combine them into one fic. hope you enjoy!

Request: Hi! Can i request a reader x Regina George where the reader is super oblivious to Regina flirting and thinks she's just being really friendly and it's obvious to everyone but the reader how in love Regina is with her.

Request: can you do a regina george x reader fic where R is literally the only person in the school who isn’t afraid of regina in the slightest and just treats her like a normal person (bonus points if the reader is just an oblivious ball of sunshine)

Request: hiii :) i was wondering if you could maybe write a regina x reader fanfic where the reader is friends with karen since they share a class together. regina ends up developing a crush and u can finish the rest lol (maybe incorporate karen inviting the reader to sit with the plastics at lunch as she’s walking by without consulting with regina first?)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: None

~

Math class dragged on, the teacher talking animatedly about something you couldn't bother paying attention to. Your class bestie, Karen, was seated beside you, taking notes diligently for a reason you couldn't fathom. It was quite endearing how she actually cared about her grades and education, despite the fact that she was a Plastic. Not that you thought of her, or any of the Plastics differently. After all, they were just normal people.

Pretty, rich, popular, normal people.

The bell rang after what felt like forever, signaling the end of class. You began packing up your things, when you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. You glanced over, to see Karen grinning at you brightly. "Hey, Y/N. You want to sit with me at lunch today?"

You blinked, momentarily stunned at her question. "You mean, like, at your table?"

Karen laughed loudly, her straight, pearly white teeth on display. "Yes, Y/N. Come on, it'll be fun! Please?" The brunette pouts, batting her long eyelashes at you pleadingly. She was so sweet, you would feel bad saying no. Plus, it wasn't like you really had anywhere else to be.

You groan, reluctantly agreeing, to which Karen squeals excitedly. "Yay, yay, yay!" She grabs your arm and loops it with hers as you toss your backpack over your shoulder, dragging you out into the hallway and into the massive rush of students. Karen expertly weaves you both through the crowd until the cafeteria is in sight.

As Karen tugs you toward the Plastics' table, your eyes land on Regina George, staring down at her phone - long, blonde hair fell across her strong, exposed shoulders, clad in a tight-fitting tank top and high-waisted jeans. Her nails were perfectly manicured, pretty golden rings adorning her fingers with a necklace to match.

God, how did she always look so pretty?

"Hi, Regina!" Karen plops herself down next to the blonde, as you slink into the bench across from her. Regina finally tears her eyes away from her phone and instantly land on you.

"Um. What are you doing?" She raises an eyebrow at you accusingly. You knew she didn't mean to be rude, just surprised that you were here, since usually you would skip lunch in the cafeteria and opt for the library instead, to complete homework assignments while you ate. It was quieter and less crowded, too. Not to mention the librarian loved you.

Sometimes Regina would even surprise you in the library, asking you to help her with her homework or claiming that she was bored and wanted someone to talk to.

You smile at her, placing your backpack down at your feet. "Hey, Regina. Karen invited me to sit here today."

Regina clenches her jaw, her eyes icy as she turns over to the brunette, who grins at Regina innocently. They exchanged glances, expressions filled with something that you couldn't quite decipher. You sat there in awkward silence as they glared at each other, Karen smiling teasingly at the blonde. "If you don't want me to sit here I can go-"

"No!" Regina speaks hurriedly, grabbing your hand as it reached for your backpack. You raised your brows at the unexpected contact, staring down at her hand wrapped around your wrist. She quickly released it, a light pink hue dusting her cheeks. "I mean, it's fine, you don't have to leave. Karen just didn't mention it to me, that's all."

You steal a glance at Karen, who simply smiled at you, as if she knew something you didn't. She began to talk to the pair of you excitedly about something - you couldn't really pay attention because you felt Regina's eyes burning holes in the side of your head. You could practically feel her eyes drag down your frame, taking in every little minute detail of your face. After a few minutes, Gretchen arrived at the table, pressing a kiss to Karen's cheek as she did so.

She greeted you kindly, already knowing you from the classes you shared together and how much Karen talked about you. The couple exchanged a knowing glance, before excusing themselves to the lunch line. Which left you alone at the table. With Regina.

"So, Regina," You turn to look at her, meeting her pretty hazel eyes that were already looking at you. She smiled at you teasingly, tilting her head as she awaited your question. "How's your day going?"

Regina rolled her eyes, leaning her chin on her hand as she leaned closer to you. "That's the best you got? Come on, I know a pretty girl like you can spark a more interesting conversation with me."

You laughed lightly at her joke, thinking nothing of the little compliment thrown in. "Well, we saw each other a few periods ago. And, I do actually want to know how your day is going."

The blonde huffed but caved, beginning to talk about her first half of the day, which consisted of complaining to her teachers, pretending to pay attention in class, and judging the fashion choices of her classmates. All normal Regina George behavior for a Tuesday.

You listened to her intently, watching the way she gestured with her hands and tossed her hair over her shoulder every so often. You were so attentive that you hadn't noticed Karen and Gretchen returning to the table, staring at the two of you with satisfied smirks.

"How about you, nerd? How has your morning been? Don't tell me Karen was bothering you again in class." Regina nudges your foot under the table, poking her tongue out at the brunette whose jaw was dropped incredulously.

"I do not bother her! She is my math class bestie, isn't that right, Y/N?"

You laugh along with the group, reassuring Karen that she was your class bestie, too. Regina excused herself from the table; you eyes follow her as she walks toward the lunch line, her hips swaying in those tight jeans. She glances over her shoulder, catching you staring, throwing you a wink and a smile. You felt your skin flush a little, clearing your throat and turning back to the other two girls.

They were already looking at you and smirking, again.

"What is up with you two today?"

"Who, us?" Gretchen places a hand over her heart dramatically. "What so ever do you mean, Y/N?"

You roll your eyes at the redhead, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "You know exactly what I mean. You two, with your little smirks and smiles. What are you two doing?"

Karen shrugs innocently. "Oh, nothing. Just observing, that's all."

You raise a brow at her. "Observing what?"

"Regina-"

Karen is interrupted by the blonde returning to the table, silently sliding a full tray of food across to you, as she sits down with her own. You look up at her in shock, your mouth slightly hanging open.

Regina looks around at the three of you as she takes a bite of her food. "What?"

The couple raise their hands in mock surrender, as you look at Regina with soft eyes. "Thanks, Regina. You didn't have to do this." The blonde shrugs, gesturing with her chin for you to eat.

"No biggie."

It was a biggie, a huge one, actually. Karen and Gretchen had never seen Regina be as nice to anyone like she was toward you. She would bring you your favorite coffee order in the mornings on her way to school, since you two shared first period, then walk you to your second. She kept a bag of your favorite snack in her locker in case you texted her, complaining about being hungry. Not to mention, she had a photo of your class schedule on her phone in case of emergencies. All unbeknownst to you, of course. To put it simply, the blonde had a massive crush on you. Meanwhile, you just thought she was being nice.

Karen and Gretchen both knew, though, of course, having heard Regina complain for months about how much she liked you, how you were her first ever girl crush, and she felt like she was going insane. You were way too oblivious to realize that she had literally been flirting with you, every time she saw you. She'd throw in compliments, brush against you, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, sometimes even hold your hand as to "not lose you in the crowd". She really just wanted to find an excuse to touch you.

Regina felt like she was losing her mind waiting for you to notice. At this point, she would have to sit you down, look you square in the eyes and straight up tell you that she likes you. She was worried that even then, you'd think she was just being nice.

You, on the other hand, have had a crush on Regina since last year. The first time Karen introduced you to her, you were a goner. You decided to bury it though - you knew she could never reciprocate feelings for someone like you: reserved, quiet, shy. She was the total opposite, and you assumed she would want someone who was more like her.

Sure, she was extremely nice to you and sort of mean to everyone else, but that's just because you two were somewhat friends.

"Y/N? Hello?" You were snapped out of your thoughts by long fingers waggling in your face, Regina looking at you with furrowed brows. "You okay?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding and shooting her a weak smile. "Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. Was just thinking about something." You finished eating your lunch as the three girls chatted amongst themselves, Regina stealing glances at you occasionally. You smiled at her, more reassuringly this time, which eases her posture a little bit.

The bell rings much too soon this time, disappointed groans echoing throughout the room as students begin to file out and toward their next class. The four of you do the same, Regina taking your tray and returning it to the trash area before you could protest. Karen and Gretchen wiggle their eyebrows at you before hugging you goodbye, waving at Regina as she returned to the table with you.

"Let's go, I'll walk you to class." Regina took your hand in hers, lacing your fingers together and tugging you along. You just managed to grab your backpack as you stumbled behind her, shuffling to catch up with her long strides. As soon as she turned into the hallway, students parted like the red sea, making a clear path for the two of you to walk. You couldn't help but flush at the feeling of everyone's eyes on you, staring you down as you inched every so closer to Regina.

"Aren't you going to be late? It's fine, Gina, I can-"

The blonde stopped dead in her tracks. "What did you call me?"

You felt yourself pale, silently cursing yourself for the mistake. You hadn't meant to call her that out loud - you knew how angry she got when people called her outside of her name. You cringed, waiting for her to lash out at you, but it never came.

You stole a quick glance at the blonde, who was already looking at you with soft eyes. "I'm not mad, nerd. Just surprised. You've never called me that before."

You stammered, trying to find words. "Sorry, yeah, I just...I think it's a cute nickname for you."

The blonde smirked at your nervousness, once again tugging you along with her to your class. "It is a cute nickname. Just like you."

You feel yourself smile at the compliment - Regina was just so sweet to you. "Thanks, Gina."

The hallways were mostly clear now, aside from a few students scurrying to their classes at the last minute. Regina stopped walking again, turning to look at you with her brows scrunched together. "Does your brain work?"

You looked at her, dumbfounded. "I...what?"

She simply stared at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your brain. Does it work? Is it on?"

You were genuinely speechless, failing to find any words to respond. Regina rolled her eyes, tugging you into the empty locker room. She sat you down on the bench before sitting herself beside you, leaning toward you. "Seriously, Y/N, do you have a concussion or something?"

You laughed incredulously. "Regina, what are you talking about?"

The blonde groaned, exasperated. "I have been flirting with you for months, Y/N. Months! Yet, you walk around, la-di-da, as if I'm just being friendly. When have you ever seen me be nice to anyone?"

Your mouth drops open at her words, opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You...what?"

"Oh my god, Y/N, I like you, okay! I have a big, fat, lesbian crush on you. I have for months."

"No you don't."

Regina sputters out a laugh. "Y/N, you're joking, right? I literally just told you that I do."

You frown, looking down at your hands. "I...no. You can't like someone like me." Your voice grows small, nails beginning to pick at the hangnails.

"Hey," Regina scooted closer to you, cupping your face in her warm hand. She brushed her thumb over your cheek, bright eyes gazing into yours with conviction. "Don't talk down about yourself. Yeah, you might be a nerd, but that's part of the reason why I like you, Y/N. I like that we are opposites in a lot of ways. If I was with some bitch like me, I'd go nuts."

You laugh lightly at her words, leaning your weight into her touch. "Stop, you're not a bitch. And I like you too, Gina. I have for a long time, actually. I'm surprised Karen hasn't told you."

Regina laughs, using her other hand to grab your hip and tug you closer to her. "That girl can keep one hell of a secret. I think her little lunch invitation today was her way of telling me to go for it." Her hand tightens on your hip just barely, her eyes flicking across your face. "Would you slap me right now if I kissed you?"

You roll your eyes, resting your hands on her bare shoulders. "No, Gina. You can kiss me."

The blonde smiles and does just that. Her nose brushes against yours, warm breath fanning across your lips as she meets them with her own, softly, sweetly.

After a beat, you both pull away, resting your foreheads together and sharing a smile. "Can I take you out this weekend?"

You nod, brushing a strand of her soft blonde hair behind her ear. "Duh."

~

i hope you enjoyed this one! my goal is to continue posting regularly, so please keep an eye out for more fics coming soon :)

[rangerbarbz]

Study Sessions

“Study Sessions”

Author’s Note: Had some time to start another blurb! (After reading Book of Bill I’m thinking about writing about Ford possessed by Bill idk) I hope y’all enjoy this one! Let me know what you think lovelies <3 EDIT: OH MY GOODNESS I DID NOT SEE ALL THE INBOX REPLIES I HAD I AM SO SORRRYYYY I HAVE SOME REQUEST IDEAS IN THERE I’D LOVE TO DO 

You had conquered every single class at Backupsmore with either an A or a B as your final grade. You wouldn’t say you were a genius by any means, but you took pride in your schoolwork and wished to graduate as soon as possible. This changed when you began taking physics. You had never been so stumped by a subject. The equations, the laws, and the Godforsaken labs were the bane of your existence. 

Your determined nature refused to let you fail, so you decided to ask your professor for help. He began doting on his star student Stanford Pines who had taken his class the previous semester and was excelling through the upper level classes. Your professor suggested reaching out to him because he had recently become a S.I. for the introductory physics and chemistry courses. He handed you a Post-It note with his name and the hours when he was going to be in the library. 

After your last class of the day, you strolled over to the library on campus, nervous for your first session. He was so smart and you were afraid that he would get frustrated with how little you understood this subject. You made your way to the S.I. lab on campus and tapped your knuckle on the wooden door that was open. There was no one at any of the tables, but there were scattered notebook paper scribbled on and a textbook open. 

“Hello?” you called, looking around for a sign of anyone. Suddenly, a head popped up from underneath the table. He had ruffled brown hair and black, square glasses. 

“Hello!” the man replied, getting up from the floor. “Sorry about that. I had dropped my pen before you walked in.” He then sat on the rolling chair and scooted it closer to the table. “I’m Stanford, but you can call me Ford. I assume you’re here for physics help?” 

You smiled. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Ford. Yes, I am here for physics. My professor recommended you to me.” You placed your backpack on the floor and sat in the chair beside him. “I just want to go ahead and warn you, I’ve had trouble in this class. I hope I don’t frustrate you too much.” 

Ford chuckled. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know you’re a smart girl. Do you have any homework that needs to be completed?” You felt your face become warm. Smart girl. You enjoyed him calling you that. There was nothing quite like academic praise to a scholar. 

“Uh, yes I do actually,” you answered, not letting your train of thought derail. You pulled your binder from the first pocket of your backpack and set it on the table in front of you two. “It’s ten problems, so if I miss more than three of them that means I have a D,” you continued as you removed the worksheet from the rings. “I am shooting for at least a C in the class overall.” 

He grinned at you like he was happy about doing physics. “Well, I believe you’re going to get no less than an A in that class.” You laughed at his confidence in you. 

“I don’t know about that, but I appreciate it, Ford,” you replied, twirling your pencil between your fingers. You gazed into his eyes; the sunlight from the window brought out hints of gold in his dark brown irises. Wow, they were so pretty.

He then cocked his head to the side. “Pardon? Did you just say ‘pretty?’” he asked with a smile tugging at his lips. 

Your face immediately became hot. Oh my God you spoke out loud not meaning to. Okay how do you save this conversation. You laughed nervously. “Pretty excited to start learning that is! Ha! Let’s get started, please. I can’t wait!” you exclaimed, all in one breath. 

Ford nodded. “What a great attitude to have, Y/N!” He then picked up his pencil and began to explain the first problem to you. He was so good at going into detail about every little thing. He was patient with you as well which was good because he kept on distracting you. 

The more you focused on him, the more features you noticed. His glasses had scratches on the wire rims, he had a prominent, square jaw, and he had unkempt sideburns. He was so damn good looking it made you want to study thermodynamics forever if it meant you got to look at him. 

You had actually gone through the homework quicker than you thought you would, so Ford asked if you would want to practice some extra problems on the blackboard. Of course you agreed. You walked up to the board ready to write whatever he threw at you but feeling self-conscious about being the center of his attention like this. He was still sitting at the table reciting the equation back to you while you stood out in the open. You then pushed your insecurity to the side in order to show him you had actually learned something today. He carefully observed you as you wrote, watching the cogs in your brain turn. He also was watching the way your face contorted in concentration and the way your fingers tapped against the chalk tray. 

“Alright. I think I’m done, Ford.” You moved to the side so he could see your final answer. 

He smiled at you, putting his hands on his knees to get up. “Let’s see what ya got,” he responded, walking over to stand beside you. You didn’t realize when he was sitting how tall he was compared to you or how broad his chest was. He began to mumble under his breath, making sure there were no mistakes present. “Everything looks good Y/N!” He then turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours. 

“You know, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Look at what you accomplished in just this short amount of time! If you keep on coming to my sessions, I know you can get through this class without worry.” Ford paused and looked back at the board, hands held behind his back. “It would make me happy to see you succeed.” 

You beamed back at him. Would it be inappropriate to kiss him right now? 

You (obviously) continued going to Ford’s S.I. sessions because your grade improved with each one you went to. You had also spent some time outside of the library together  by doing some photography of the wildlife around campus while Ford doodled in his sketchbook. People usually clocked him as an introvert, but he was not like that with you. He had opened up quite a bit to you about his past and what he wanted to do in the future. 

Today, you had met Ford on a bench outside his dormitory after your physics class had let out to share some good news with him. “Ford!” you called out. He looked up to see you waving a paper marked with an A+ in red ink. “Guess who got the highest grade in the class on the test last week?” you squealed. 

“Yes!” Ford said triumphantly, standing up quickly to pump his fists in the air. His sketchbook fell to the ground with some of the loose papers coming out. “I’m so proud of you!” You put your hands on his strong shoulders and jumped up and down. 

“Thank you thank you thank you! I’m just tickled pink right now,” you responded happily, bending down to pick up his drawings before the wind caught them. Ford’s face suddenly fell.

“Oh here I’ll get that,” he started, kneeling down on the concrete beside you. He was trying to pick up the papers that fell out as fast as possible, but you were faster. 

Your eyes grew wide as you picked up a paper with drawings of a woman reading a textbook, in a tree taking a picture of a bird, and one where she was just laughing. They were all you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked at them. They were so beautiful. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry. I- I can explain,” Ford stammered. “I- I have…liked you for a while now. You just are always on my mind, so I end up drawing you sometimes.”

“I like you too,” you cut him off. 

His face was flushed beyond belief. “I, well, uh-” 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you stated. Ford’s eyebrows lifted as you closed the gap between you with a sweet kiss. He let out the tiniest sigh at the contact, his eyes fluttering close. You held his face in your hands and separated your lips from his to see his reaction. He was still blushing with a goofy smile on his lipstick stained face. 

“That was nice. Should’ve done that sooner,” he joked. You giggled and began to kiss him rapidly on his cheeks and forehead. You had left red stains of your lips with each smooch you gave him. 

“Yeah, you should have, smart guy.” He rolled his eyes and held your chin between his thumb and index finger to pull you in for another kiss. You smiled against his lips.

“I can’t wait to tell Fiddleford about this,” Ford murmured. 

“ And I can’t wait to see Fiddleford’s reaction to my assault on your face,” you laughed.

[bernardsbendystraws]

Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

08: How did we get here…?

I felt my bones vibrating from rage. Everything felt so confusing, lines blurred so much that I couldn’t even tell if I should feel angry. All day and all night. I rotted in my bed, trying to put one cohesive thought together, but I was still just lost. 

My heart was palpitating from screaming emotions. Hayden stood on my doorstep, a look of disappointment covering his face as he clenched his jaw. “Just let me in, we need to talk. I mean - c’mon. You’re being ridiculous, all I’m asking for is five minutes,” he huffs. 

Uninvited and unwelcome, he pushes past me, shoving my shoulder as he walks in. My jaw drops, a sigh puffing through my lips as I roll my eyes, shutting the door. 

I hear his dirty shoes shuffle around the floor as he paces back and forth. Turning around and keeping my door on the handle, I squint my eyes at him, “What the hell do you wanna talk about? How good your other girl is in bed?” 

The statement seems to sting. Hayden purses his lips together, his nostrils flaring. “Can you really blame me?” he questions, his eyes glaring down at me as he shakes his head from side to side, waving his hands dramatically. “I’ve asked you time after time to try harder and you give me nothing. At least I was fuckin’ trying - I was doing everything to at least keep you satisfied and you couldn’t even -” His lips rest open, words stuck on the tip of his tongue. 

“What? Have sex with you?” I spit, my chest starting to burn as heat rises behind my ears, crawling over my shoulders. 

“I,” he looks around, his eyes landing back at mine as I cock an eyebrow at him, “-fuck, I just - why were you even coming over? You never just show up!” 

Oh.

My face falls. The whites of my eyes grow, a gloss starting to form the shame washes over me. Hayden’s face tilts, confusion covering his face before his expression relaxes. 

“Why were you coming over? Hm?” he pushes, walking towards me as I shrink against the door. My body seems to shorten as he stares down at me, the unwavering glint of anger in his eyes piercing any sort of pride, making my gaze fall towards the floor. 

“You spent the night with Matt, didn’t you? What happened, hm? I was right, wasn’t I?” 

Silence. 

The only noise is heavy breathing and the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. My eyes burn from embarrassment, my vision clouding from shame. 

“I think you should go.” 

Words spoken so softly, I almost don’t recognize it as my own voice. 

Hayden scoffs. “Fine. I’ll go - but, I find it ironic that you're mad I went to some other girl to get my needs met when you’ve been actually cheating, basically having another boyfriend. It’s…it’s real fuckin’ rich coming from the girl who claims cheaters are the worst people on the Earth.” 

My body seems to float, my mind impossibly hazy as I twist the door knob, side-stepping as I keep my stare pointed towards the floor. 

I can’t look at him. I can’t. 

“Whatever,” he puffs, walking out the door. 

Too much. It’s all too much. I lean backward, making the door shut before letting my hands run upward, my nails scratching along my scalp as I allow my hands clench into tights fists. Biting down hard on my lower lip, I let out a scream of some sort. 

Was he right? Is it all my fault? What the fuck even is right and wrong? 

I just don’t know. 

_________

“This is fucking stupid.” Manon laughs at my words, handing me the bat as the puffy protective suits rub to create a loud noise. 

The second she heard the word rage fall out of my mouth, we ended up in the designated place for it according to her. It was supposedly the perfect solution. 

A rage room.

I didn’t see how it would help. Venting didn’t do much because I was simply confused. How would allowing myself to become more angry help? 

“Break shit!!” she urges. Shaking my head, I grab the bat. The weight of the material seems to be decent - at least decent enough to do some damage to the random objects in the room. “C’mon! Let it out! Tell me everything!” 

Sighing, I let more words slip out. Hayden’s pointed accusations fly through my mouth, echoing from earlier as I start to lightly bang the bat against an old wooden desk. 

I wonder if he’s ever bent her over and fucked her on a desk. 

“It’s fucking so…so stupid!” My jaw clenches, words slurring as I start to beat the cabinets of the desk harder and harder. 

I can barely tell what I’m saying. There’s music in the background, noises of Manon beating the shit out of a TV. 

“-he says I ‘actually’ cheated. I didn’t even fucking try! Nothing was ever goddamn intentional. I’ve never even fucking kissed Matt, I was leaning on a friend and I - I leaned so hard I fell and I - I - fuck!” I screech, pursing my lips tightly before mustering up all energy towards swinging the bat on the wooden desk crumbling apart.

Splinters fly everywhere. Harsh gasps of air leave my lips, a pained cry echoing in the concrete room as I let it all out. The legs break, the flat top of the desk falling to the floor. 

I can’t. I just can’t. 

Dropping the bat, I let myself sink to the floor in exhaustion and defeat. 

He’s everywhere in my mind. 

Matt is hidden in every thought, Hayden’s presence echoing with only a whisper. My mind feels so foggy, so clouded. No matter how hard I think, there’s nothing to realize except more confusion. 

How the fuck did I get here? 

A/N: Thank you for reading. Any interaction is appreciated!!! I am hoping to get out weekly updates of this series. Let me know your thoughts <333

[mayakern]

In light of finding out that there's actually people out there being jerks to you in your inbox, I wanted to tell you how much joy you've brought into my life without even knowing about it! My girlfriend introduced me to your art and your clothing and I've been a huge fan ever since! Your art makes me feel more comfortable in my own skin and see beauty where I hadn't thought to look before, and watching you succeed puts a smile on my face. I wish you and your wife a long and happy life full of joyful memories and interesting stories!

aw thank you, this is so incredibly sweet 🥺🥺🥺

we did have a couple ppl being weirdly combative at the combo of me asking why ppl hadn't purchased from the canada store (this was a genuine question to see if there were issues we didn't know about, which there were) and then me talking about what a rough position the business is in currently, but largely people have been nothing other than extremely kind and supportive and wonderful.

i think it often comes down to the sad reality that when a small brand like us, which is more expensive than fast fashion in large part because we use certified ethical labor, talks about our financial/sales issues in a time when most people are struggling, people sometimes get defensive.

even if i am not being aggressive or mean or blaming our customers--i am also a non-wealthy person who lived through 2024, i have not at any point been unaware of just how difficult things have gotten and i don't blame anyone for their financial situation--because of the type of business i run, seeing me or the business fail can make people feel guilty. because even tho a lot of people try not to think about it, when you buy a fast fashion shirt for $5--or when you buy several, knowing that they'll fall apart after just a few wears--there are so many "invisible" costs. knowing that you can afford a shein clothing haul because someone was, at best, paid pennies to make the garments wears a person down. knowing, too, that that piece of clothing that was made by exploiting other humans is going to end up in the trash relatively quickly also takes its toll.

for a lot of people, fast fashion is all they can afford. and also for a lot of people, they have convinced themselves that buying a higher quantity of cheap garments that will fall apart quickly is more affordable or a better deal than saving up for one more expensive piece that will last them multiple years. after all, buying a single garment that you'll wear for years doesn't give you nearly as much of a dopamine hit as getting an entire clothing haul that costs the same amount up front.

and i think because of this--because a lot of people make this choice and do not feel proud of it--when they see me or my business struggle, they project their own feelings of guilt and assume that i must be blaming them personally. that i am figuratively breathing down their neck and haunting their closets.

the truth is, i know the path i have chosen is not the easy one. i could probably make a lot more money and live a lot more comfortably if i operated on a business model that more closely resembled fast fashion. but for as long as i can afford them, i would like to stick to my ideals. and i don't blame other people for not being able to do the same.

[moonselune]

Heyo! I was the one to send the ask about a Tav hiding their past from their companions and the romanced one realizing the other day. I forgot to add which romanced companions for the request 😅

Astarion, Karlach, or Shadowheart if that’s ok

No worries! I couldn't actually find the original ask as my inbox likes to snack on them so it worked out perfectly!

Karlach:

The two of you were sprawled out on a grassy hill, the stars blazing above like a million tiny promises of hope. Karlach, ever radiant, had her arms behind her head, her warm laughter still lingering in the cool night air after she'd recounted some ridiculous tale of a fight she'd gotten into years ago. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched her—there was something about Karlach that was utterly disarming.

“Y’know,” she said, rolling onto her side to look at you, her face half-illuminated by starlight, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“That’s always dangerous,” you teased, earning a playful swat on the arm.

“I’m serious,” she said, her tone soft but thoughtful now. “I realized... I don’t actually know much about you. Like, really know you.”

You tensed slightly, your smile fading, and she noticed immediately. Karlach wasn’t the type to miss when someone’s defenses went up—she was too attuned to cracks in the armor not to see it.

“I know you're amazing, and you're kind, and you’ve been through some stuff, but...you’ve always been pretty vague about your past. Why is that?”

“It’s not important,” you said quickly, brushing it off as if it were nothing. You turned your gaze back to the stars, hoping she’d let it go.

But Karlach wasn’t one to let things go easily.

“Not important? You’re important. What made you who you are is important,” she said, her voice gentle but insistent. “Come on, you know everything about me. You know about Zariel, the Hells, all of it. But you...you’ve got this wall around parts of yourself, and I don’t like not being able to reach you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Karlach, it’s...it’s not something I like to talk about, okay? Some things are better left buried.”

“But buried things tend to rot, love,” she said softly, placing a warm hand on your arm. “Please. Talk to me.”

You hesitated, staring at her hand on your arm. The warmth of her touch was grounding, comforting, and yet it made the ache in your chest all the more acute. When you finally looked at her, you saw nothing but patience and love in her eyes. And it broke you.

“Fine,” you muttered, sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest. She sat up too, waiting quietly, not rushing you.

“I grew up in a family that looked perfect from the outside,” you began, your voice low. “We had money, status—everything people think makes a family happy. But behind closed doors? It was a nightmare.”

Karlach said nothing, letting you continue at your own pace.

“My parents...they hated each other. And they weren’t exactly quiet about it. Every day was a war zone. Screaming matches, accusations, the kind of anger that seeps into everything. My siblings and I were caught in the crossfire, always trying to stay out of the way, always trying not to make things worse. But no matter what we did, it was never enough. Someone always got hurt, one way or another.”

You paused, your throat tightening as old memories clawed their way to the surface. Karlach reached out and took your hand, her grip firm but reassuring.

“And then,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly, “one day, it all fell apart. My older brother tried to leave—tried to get out of the hellhole we called home. My father...he didn’t take it well. There was a fight. Things got...violent. And my brother never made it out. After that, everything just...collapsed. I left too, eventually, but by then I’d lost everything that mattered. My family. My sense of who I was. All of it.”

You finally looked at her, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “That’s why I don’t talk about it, Karlach. Because what’s the point? It’s just a mess I crawled out of, and I don’t want it to define me.”

For a moment, Karlach was silent, her expression a mix of astonishment and heartbreak. Then she shook her head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping her lips.

“Damn,” she said softly. “You’re...incredible, you know that?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“How are you so well-adjusted after all that?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe. “Seriously. If it were me, I’d be a total wreck. But you...you’re strong. You’re kind. You’ve got this huge heart that somehow survived all that pain. It’s...it’s amazing.”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They spilled over, and before you could even think to hide them, Karlach was pulling you into her arms. Her infernal warmth enveloped you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into someone else completely.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just...I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she murmured, her hand stroking your back soothingly. “I get it. I do. But I’m here now, okay? You don’t have to carry it all by yourself anymore.”

You clung to her like a lifeline, her warmth chasing away the chill of old wounds. And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as broken as you thought.

“I love you, you know,” Karlach said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your eyes still glistening with tears. “I love you too,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of everything you’d just shared.

And as her lips met yours in a gentle, grounding kiss, you realized that maybe you didn’t have to bury your past anymore. Not with Karlach. Not ever again.

Shadowheart:

The two of you sat side by side on a quiet patch of forest floor, the campfire flickering in the distance as the night crept in around you. Shadowheart had been unusually quiet, her sharp eyes scanning the stars above before settling on your profile.

"You know," she started, her voice soft but probing, "for all the time we've spent together, I realize I don’t actually know much about you."

You blinked, glancing at her, caught off guard by the sudden turn in conversation. “What do you mean? You know plenty about me,” you said lightly, trying to deflect.

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. “Do I? I know who you are now, sure. But your past? Where you come from? What made you...you? You’ve kept it all locked up tight.”

You shifted uncomfortably, your gaze dropping to the ground. “It’s not important,” you muttered.

Shadowheart leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studied you. “Not important to who? Because it feels pretty important to me.”

Her persistence made you squirm, and you quickly stood, brushing off your clothes as if that would somehow shake the conversation away. “Shadowheart, I don’t—can we not do this right now?”

You started to walk away, but her voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Alright. But I’ll find out eventually. You know I’m not one to let things go.” You glanced back at her, giving her a pointed look, but she just smiled sweetly, her tone deceptively innocent. “You’ll tell me, willingly or not.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it. Still, you didn’t realize how serious she was about her little promise—until the next evening.

Shadowheart wasn’t just clever; she was sneaky. The next day, she found ways to chip away at your defenses. She asked questions that seemed harmless at first—what foods you liked, what your childhood home looked like, what kind of trouble you got into as a kid. Bit by bit, she pieced together fragments of your past until you realized too late that she’d woven a net around you.

It wasn’t until you were sitting by the riverbank after another grueling day of travel that she struck her final blow.

“So,” she said casually, dipping her fingers into the cool water, “was your family always so chaotic, or did the drama start later on?”

You froze, your stomach twisting as you realized she’d cornered you.

“What are you talking about?” you said, feigning ignorance.

Shadowheart smirked, tilting her head. “Oh, come on. I’ve been paying attention. The little things you’ve let slip, the way you dodge questions—it’s obvious there’s more to your story than you’re letting on. So, spill. What happened?”

You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

She just smiled, her expression softening. “Only when it comes to things that matter. And you, my love, matter.”

Her words cracked something open inside you, and before you could stop yourself, the dam burst.

It all came tumbling out. The family drama that felt like a never-ending storm—arguments, betrayals, and secrets that tore your home apart. The tragedies that left scars too deep to heal. Scandals that painted your family in a light so harsh, you’d spent years trying to escape it.

But it wasn’t all darkness. You found yourself sharing the funny stories too—the times you and your siblings played pranks on each other, the little moments of joy that somehow shone through the chaos. You talked about the people you’d loved and lost, the lessons you’d learned, and the weight you still carried from it all.

By the time you were done, your throat was raw, and your chest felt hollow, like you’d just carved out a piece of yourself and handed it to her.

Shadowheart had been silent the whole time, her expression unreadable as she listened intently. When you finally looked at her, self-consciousness crept in like a cold shadow.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, averting your gaze. “That was...a lot. I probably should’ve kept some of it to myself.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said softly, her voice filled with a kind of reverence that made you look up in surprise.

Her eyes were shining, and there was an almost tangible warmth in her expression. “Do you have any idea how incredible you are?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been through all of that,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the horizon as if the weight of your past was hanging in the air between you. “And here you are—still standing, still fighting, still...you. It’s astonishing.”

You shook your head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping you. “I’m not incredible, Shadowheart. I’m just...getting by.”

“No,” she said firmly, leaning closer and taking your hand in hers. “You’re so much more than that. You’ve been through things that would break most people, and somehow, you’re still...kind. Still hopeful. Still...loving. I’m in awe of you, truly.”

Her words broke something else inside you—not in a painful way, but in a way that felt like healing. Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

Shadowheart cupped your face gently, brushing the tears away with her thumbs.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice steady and certain. “All of you. Your past, your present, your future. Every part of you.”

A shaky laugh escaped you as you leaned into her touch.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She pulled you into a tender embrace, holding you as if she could shield you from the weight of your past. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to carry it all alone.

Astarion:

It was a quiet moment in camp, the kind of peace that always felt precarious, balanced on the knife's edge of your group's chaotic lives. Astarion was lounging next to you, his chin propped in his hand as he studied you with a curious intensity.

“You know,” he began casually, his voice dripping with charm and mischief, “for someone I’m hopelessly enamored with, you are a remarkably well-guarded mystery.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, already suspicious. “Am I?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,” he purred, sitting up straighter. “You’re practically a ghost when it comes to your past. You’ve danced around every question I’ve ever asked, dodging and deflecting like a master illusionist. Honestly, it’s impressive. I think I might even be proud of you.”

You smirked. “Well, thank you, but some things are better left in the past.”

Astarion let out an exaggerated sigh, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Ah, but darling, I hate being left in the dark. You can’t expect me to simply accept this vagueness when I’m dying to know what secrets you’re hiding.”

You gave him a pointed look. “I don’t expect you to do anything. But I’m not telling you, Astarion.”

That should have been the end of it, but of course, it wasn’t. Over the next few days, Astarion’s curiosity morphed into relentless determination. He needled you at every opportunity, his charm turning into playful persistence. Every time you dodged his questions, he only seemed more delighted, like unraveling your secrets had become a personal challenge.

“You know,” he said one evening, leaning close enough that you could feel his breath against your ear, “this is getting downright insulting. Do you think I can’t handle a little drama? Please, I thrive on it.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

“And yet,” he countered, grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary, “you still haven’t answered me. Come now, my sweet enigma—indulge me.”

Eventually, you snapped—not in anger, but in exasperation. Sitting by the fire that night, you threw up your hands. “Fine. You want to know? I’ll tell you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Astarion’s eyes lit up like a child on their name day, and he settled in with a gleeful smirk, clearly expecting a story worth his persistence.

Blasé, almost flippant, you began to unravel the sordid tale of your past.

You told him about the family dinners that ended in shouting matches—or worse, murders over disputes that ran deeper than blood. You recounted the endless scandals: the illegitimate children, the betrayals that made even the most dramatic bardic tales look tame, the backstabbing that left no one unscathed. The drama unfolded like a grotesque tapestry, each thread more tangled and wild than the last.

Through it all, you remained indifferent, recounting events as if they had happened to someone else entirely. “And then there was the time my cousin poisoned the wine at a wedding. That was a mess. Oh, and the twins—turns out one of them wasn’t even my uncle’s child. But really, what did he expect when he married his mistress?”

Astarion sat in stunned silence, his lips slightly parted as you continued to nonchalantly recount the chaos of your upbringing.

“And, of course, there were the power struggles,” you added with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Everyone vying for control, alliances shifting faster than the wind. It’s all so...exhausting, really.”

When you finally finished, the fire crackled in the silence that followed. You looked at Astarion, expecting...something. Disbelief? Judgment?

Instead, he burst into delighted laughter.

“Oh, my dear, dear love,” he said, clutching his chest as if he might collapse from mirth. “You’re right—it does sound like a poorly written bardic tale. But gods, what a deliciously awful one!”

You rolled your eyes. “I told you it wasn’t worth hearing.”

“Are you joking?” he asked, still laughing. “It’s magnificent! The drama! The intrigue! And you—you just walked away from all of that and turned into...well, you. It’s incredible.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re impressed by all of that?”

“Of course I am,” he said, leaning closer, his expression softening into something genuine. “You survived a storm of madness and somehow emerged as the person I’ve fallen utterly in love with. How could I not be impressed?”

Heat rose to your cheeks at his sincerity, but before you could respond, his grin turned wicked.

“Although,” he added, “you simply must take me to your next family dinner. I need to witness this circus for myself.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not a chance. They’d eat you alive.”

“Darling,” Astarion purred, his voice dripping with confidence, “I’ve been surrounded by vampires for two centuries. I think I can handle a few backstabbing relatives.”

You laughed despite yourself, and Astarion leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek, his hand brushing yours in a silent promise.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “For trusting me with this. It means more than you know.”

awh this was wholesome, as someone who comes from a chaotic ass family this was cathartic to write aha. Hope you guys enjoyed it -Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

THE RRAMSHACKLE GHOSTS COUNTING SS YUU AND GRIMS FAMILY FOR FAMILY DAY IS SO CUTE AGH

If its allowed can i request yuu and grim learning the ghosts are counted as their guardians,,, maybe feeling abit left out cuz everyone has someone and Crowley appears with for ONCE genuine kinda fun news with ghosts in tow....

[Referencing this interaction!]

dhjsbskwkwidk I’m not actually taking new NRC Family Day requests, I’m just finishing up the ones I had in my inbox so I can finally compile a masterlist 😭 But!! I happen to like the idea of the Ramshackle Ghosts as being part of Yuu’s family so I’ll make an exception this time.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

You sat on upon a stone sill and looked out at the courtyard. It was swarming with people, far more than you’d see on campus on a regular school day. Students and staff were present, but now there were also parents, guardians, siblings, and extended relatives.

Young children wobbling on unsteady feet, some carried by an older family member—some so young they needed to be strapped to a chest or back, or pushed in a stroller. Elder brothers and sisters gawking at the buildings but never straying too far from their flock. Adults chattering or smoothing out hair, adjusting clothes.

Guardians for their sons, their cousins, their brothers, their nephews, their grandsons.

The mages of tomorrow.

Everyone looks so happy.

So many people around, and yet you had never felt more alone in your entire life.

Everyone has someone… but not us.

The space beside you suddenly felt very, very empty. Like someone should be there, filling it—but wasn’t. Your family was in another world entirely.

Your chest constricted. It was hard to breathe, and it seemed that the room was pounding rather than your heart.

Taking in a shaky gulp of air, you swallowed your sadness and ran a hand through Grim’s grey fur. He had taken a bath in the morning (“The great Grim-sama’s gotta look extra snazzy for Family Day!”), so he was extra fluffy. The softness set your nerves at easy, if only temporarily.

“… Minion? You okay?” Grim asked, gently nudging a paw against your cheek. Concern swam in his big blue eyes.

“I’m fine,” you replied, your tone a little deflated. You’d been telling yourself that for the past several hours. A mantra to maintain composure—but you weren’t sure how effective it was.

“You’re not lettin’ dumb thoughts like ‘I’m lonely’ get to you, are ya? Cuz you’re all good with the great Grim-sama here—so c’mon, lemme see my minion smile!”

“Silly kitty. You’re right, you’re my family.” You lifted him off of your shoulders and snuggled Grim against you, rubbing your nose against his.

“My, am I interrupting something, Prefect?” a jolly voice called out from behind you.

You almost dropped Grim from shock. He flailed his furry limbs, and you caught him, setting him down in your lap.“W-Whoa, headmaster?! Where’d you appear from?!”

“A man has his ways!” he chuckled—vague as always. His feathery cloak shifted like shadows as he approached, his cane tap-tap-tapping with each step. “Now then, I have come with some exciting news for you and Grim-kun.”

You eyed him warily. “It’s not another errand or chore, is it…?”

"On Family Day? Certainly not! How unkind do you think me to be?!" Crowley huffed. "No, I assure you that this surprise is one that you will enjoy."

He snapped, and at his signal, three familiar ghostly forms appeared before you. A, B, and C encircled you, arms linked with one another, in a happy ring of cackles. You tried to follow them around and around, but it only resulted in a dizziness in your head.

"Myah?! It's the Ramshackle Ghosts!!"

"What are you guys doing here?"

"The headmaster," the ghosts chorused, "it's all the headmaster's doing."

"They are the surprise," Crowley explained. "Rejoice--for, by the power of my grace and magnanimity, I have made the executive decision to allow them to be present as Prefect and Grim-kun's family!"

"But why?" Your question was quiet, stifled by disbelief. "Why would you..."

"Why?" Crowley said the word as though it belonged to a foreign language. "I have been an educational authority for far longer than you realize--and in all my years of teaching, I know that no child likes to be left behind. Students must keep their morale up if they wish to do well in..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

You sat Grim on the floor and flew at the headmaster--fazing through the ghosts. Wrapping your arms around Crowley, you locked him in an embrace. He was stiff at first, but quickly adapted, relaxing and returning the hug.

"... Thanks, headmaster," you muttered, tears prickling in your eyes. "You really can be... so very kind sometimes."

"You express your gratitude in such strong ways," he mused, a clawed hand on the back of your head, stroking absentmindedly. The gesture was oddly comforting, in spite of the several (several) recollections you had of his less-than-fatherly behavior.

"Aww, ain't that sweet," Ghost A gushed.

"I guess the headmaster counts as part of Prefect's family too."

"Maybe he can be the weird uncle," C suggested.

"Eeeeeh, but I don't wanna be related to Crowley," Grim protested, stomping a hind paw. "Our extended family SUCKS!"

[strang3lov3]

Under the Table

Roman takes you to dinner. You eat pasta and he eats you (4k)

Tags - smut, stepcest, stepdaddy!roman, age gap, dom!roman, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), public sex, teasing, emotional boners, you make daddy blush and get all bashful so he reminds you who calls the shots, like Dennis Reynolds, Roman has feelings again but he’s still disgustinggggg, does he want to be your father or your daddy, oh he is getting so soft. But someone else is too 🫵 implied almond/alcoholic mom + other mommy issues,,,planting some seeds here don’t mind me,,, Fic help - @beefrobeefcal thank you for brainstorming with me and for giving me your eyeballs! @endlessthxxghts, ditto!! A/N - yeah I wrote a birthday fic for my birthday to my birthday party on my birthday with a birthday gift. shut the fuck up about it. I love you. I think next time we see him he’ll fuck your ass maybe. I don’t know. Someone jump into my inbox and tell me something gross they should do because I need to cancel out this goddamn sweetness. Rotting the teeth right out of my skull smh. also, I know we waited a while for more stepdaddy. I appreciate your patience more than you know 🩷 updates may continue to be slow this month because we’re getting down to the wire with school and all that stuff.

Stepdaddy!Roman Roy

7:34 AM. You wake to texts from old friends and relatives wishing you another happy year around the sun, don’t party too hard and so on and so forth. It does warm your heart to know that people are thinking of you. Your past birthdays haven’t felt much like the birthdays you had when you were younger, when you were so excited to celebrate your day you couldn’t sleep. 

You pull on a sweatshirt over your thin pajamas and head downstairs to make yourself a bowl of cereal, and find Roman in the kitchen. “Morning, sunshine. Go sit down in the dining room.”

“Mm,” you grumble, voice gravelly from sleep. Your eyes are droopy and you still look tired, barely conscious. 

Roman eyes you as you sit down. You rest your head on the table, and you’re wearing his sweatshirt. He’s not entirely sure how you wound up with it. He doesn’t say anything, though, only smirks to himself. 

Roman goes back into the kitchen to plate some blueberry pancakes he made for you, just like he’s done since you were young. Roman’s not much of a cook, but this is one meal he can make and that he can make well. He wouldn’t do it for just anyone, but you asked him once when you were a kid and he didn’t have it in his heart to tell you no. Roman remembers how crappy that first batch came out, but how you didn’t complain. Honestly, you probably didn’t even notice with your pancakes covered in so much butter and syrup and whipped cream. You probably couldn’t even taste the blueberries. But thus, tradition stuck, and Roman’s blueberry pancake game vastly improved over the years. He liked making them for you as much as you liked eating them.

Roman returns to you with the plate of blueberry pancakes and sets it down in front of you. “Voilà.”

You lift your head up and grin when you see the pancakes Roman made for you. It’s straight out of a commercial, melted butter and syrup dripping down the edges with a dollop of whipped cream right on top. “Aww. You remembered,” you beam. You didn’t ask Roman for the pancakes this year. 

Roman blushes, and he feels his heart beat harder. It’s been so long since you’ve smiled at him like that, and it makes him nervous. “No. I made them for myself, actually, but I was feeling generous. This is my good deed for the week.”

“You still remembered.”

Roman ignores the accusation. “I gave you all the fucked up ones, just so you know. And I spit in the batter.”

“Mm. Tasty.”

Fuck. Your eyes are sparkling, your smile is so warm. Roman can’t stomach it, how you make him feel sometimes. “Oh, shut up and eat your fucking pancakes, birthday girl,” he snaps, contorting his face to fight his smile. “I hate you. You’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes and eat your pancakes, humming at the delicious flavor. Roman grabs your favorite mug and sets it down next to you, then fills it with the coffee he made. Before you can thank him, the clattering of high heels on the hardwood floor interrupts you. Your mom is on the phone and stops briefly in the dining room when she smells the pancakes Roman made for you. She leans over your shoulder and takes your fork from your hand and cuts off a bite for herself. “Mom,” you complain. 

“You can share,” she scolds, covering the mic on her phone.  

Roman speaks, “Wait, don’t. I made those special for -”

Your mom smiles and kisses Roman on the cheek before he can finish his sentence, and then she’s out the door while still talking with Erica. 

Roman looks to you for your reaction, and your face falls. That beautiful smile on your lips just moments ago, snuffed out like a candle. “I don’t think she remembered,” you tell Roman, defeated. 

“Oh no, I don’t think that’s true,” Roman lies. “I’m sure she just - I don’t know,” he sighs, resigning to the reality of the situation. You can expect some mushy and emotional text from her later, probably tomorrow. “No, you’re right - that was bullshit.” Roman squeezes your shoulder affectionately and tells you he’s sorry. 

Roman means it. He knows exactly how it feels to have a parent forget your birthday. His dad only remembered a handful of times, and every present always felt empty. It’s part of why Roman’s always put effort into making your day special each year. He never got the birthday he wanted or deserved, but he could give that to you.

“Listen,” Roman says, “I gotta run to work now. Don’t party too hard. Or do. I don’t care. It’s your day. Just don’t snort coke in my bathroom, okay? Anywhere else. And don’t do it before, like, four in the afternoon.” Roman pats your shoulder. “Just basic human decency.”

“I’m not gonna do coke in your bathroom, Roman.”

“I just feel the need to say it after the Uncle Ken incident, you know?” You laugh at that, though you shouldn’t. Roman continues, “Anyway, I want you to eat up all of your highly nutritious breakfast and when I come home tonight, you better be in your favorite dress.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m taking you out.”

“You are?” 

“Duh, genius. Like me and you always do on your birthday, remember? Or are you forgetting as you approach your crone years?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off. You’re closer to senile than I am. Pushing fifty there, aren’t you, Roman?”

“Maybe. I’ve got some years left, so watch it,” he warns, then kisses the top of your head. “I fuck like I’m thirty, anyway.”

-

The rest of the day drags on, truthfully. You finish your pancakes, then go upstairs and treat yourself to a bubble bath, your vibrator joining you. Afterwards, you dress yourself in comfortable clothes and drive yourself around the city, picking up birthday freebies from different stores and fast food restaurants. When you come home, you do your hair and makeup in the way that makes you feel prettiest, then look through your closet for your favorite dress, just like Roman said. 

Your favorite dress. It’s not an easy decision. You have a favorite dress that’s comfortable, a favorite dress on your body, a favorite patterned dress. You slide the hangers across the closet rod, contemplating, contemplating…until you come across that one purple dress. 

You remember Roman pulling the zipper of that dress up your spine, his warm hands on your waist. How he fucked you in that closet, bent you over the vanity and split you open. You watched him in the mirror as you gushed on his cock. You wear that dress tonight, then pick out some shoes to match. 

Roman presses his horn repeatedly to call you outside. He’s fucking obnoxious, but you laugh. You rush downstairs and out the door, and when Roman sees you he gets out of the driver’s seat and rounds the front of his car to open up the passenger side door for you. “Look at you, birthday girl,” he says, chewing minty gum. “You look so grown up.”

“Ew. Don’t, please.”

“So that’s your favorite dress, huh?”

Knowing Roman recognizes your dress makes your cheeks warm. “Yeah,” you mumble softly. 

“Mm. Mine too,” he whispers, then shuts the door. He gets back into the driver’s seat and presses buttons on the screen until his car’s Bluetooth connects to your phone. “I think your birthday earns you DJ rights, yeah?” Roman pulls the gear shifter into drive. 

“I’d say so,” you agree, picking out your favorite playlist on Spotify. Roman puts his hand on your thigh, inching it up and under your skirt. He doesn’t do more than an occasional squeeze, and tapping his fingertips on your skin. Still, it excites you. 

Once at the restaurant, Roman takes your hand and helps you out of the car. You read the sign of the restaurant, Adalina, and Roman leads you inside. You notice he’s holding a little gift bag. “Reservation for Roy,” he tells the host, who then ushers you both to a corner booth. The lights are dim, tables covered in floor-length white cloths. There’s people chatting at tables and at the bar, someone softly playing piano. Once seated, the host lights a candle at your table. 

“Your uh - your boy toy from a while ago. Is this where he took you? I thought you said something about not liking it,” Roman asks, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his thigh. 

You shake your head. “No,” you answer. “I’ve never been here.”

“Good, that’s good…you guys still talk?”

You shoot him a look at the same time your server comes by to place a plate of bread and oil at your table and to pour water in your glasses. “Can I start you off with some wine, something else to drink?”

You look at Roman, who shrugs. “All you,” he says. 

“I’m fine with water.” 

Roman says the same. He figured you’d forgo drinking tonight, even if it was just one little glass of wine. That’s why he had you make the decision - he doesn’t want you feeling pulled in either direction. You’re not much of a drinker, with your mom being the opposite. It makes sense. 

Your server leaves to give you a little while to browse the menu and pick out appetizers and dinner. Roman places that gift bag from earlier in front of you. 

“For me?” You reach for the bag. 

“For you,” Roman replies, mocking your tone. 

You pull the tissue paper out of the bag before pulling out the gift itself - it’s…you don’t know what you’re looking at. It’s some bizarre figure of a frog dressed as a cowboy, riding…a bearded dragon? Baffled and wearing a smile, you turn it over in your hand. You wonder where on god’s green earth Roman even found something like this. 

“I thought of you,” Roman says. “Has your name written all over it.”

“Oh Roman,” you sigh dramatically, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I know, I know.”

You examine the weird little toy some more, giggling at all of the details. Roman’s fucking with you, but you do love the figurine. He knew you would. 

Roman reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a fancy leather box, then slides it across the tablecloth quietly. “What..?”

“Shush. Just open it.”

You put down your figurine and open the box, gasping at the sight. A gorgeous, multi-stone sapphire pendant sparkles above black velvet. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, the design very intentional. Unique. “Roman…”

“Umm,” Roman hums nervously, hovering over you to point at the pendant, “They’re sapphires, so blue- they’re like blueberries,” he stutters, gesturing to the multiple round-cut stones. “‘Cause of the pancakes I make you…uh…sometimes.” Roman points to the little diamonds between the sapphires, “And the diamonds, I don’t know. I thought it was a nice accent sort of thing. And you’re a girl, you know. You like sparkles.”

You’re touched. Not only is the piece gorgeous, but the thought Roman put into it warms your heart and makes it all the more special. There’s no way he just walked into a jeweler’s and picked this out of the display case. He thought up the design and had it custom made, probably weeks or months ago. Had to have. Carefully, you remove the pendant and its box chain from the box. 

“If you don’t l-” You put the piece of jewelry in Roman’s hand and turn your back to him. Roman smiles to himself. He puts the necklace over your chest and brings the chain around your neck, his nervously shaking fingers tickling your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “God, fuck - sorry, hang on,” he whispers, losing and finding his grip on the small clasp before successfully securing it. “There.” Excitedly, you pull out your phone and turn on your front-facing camera to admire the pendant on your skin. 

You turn off your phone and put it in your purse, then fling yourself at Roman, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. Roman freezes at first, then hugs you back gingerly, before finally squeezing you just as tightly, chuckling quietly at your palpable excitement. You pull away from the hug just enough to kiss him quickly on his lips, startling both yourself and Roman. “Yeah, so…” He rubs the back of his neck and blushes wildly, his cock quickly hardening in his pants. Roman coughs and adjusts his napkin over his lap, still feeling the pressure of your lips on his despite their absence. “Happy birthday, kiddo,” he whispers. 

“I love it. Thank you.” You look at Roman with sparkling eyes, pupils blown wide as you beam at him. It makes him blush even harder, his ears and neck turning red too. 

“Stop it, don’t - quit looking at me like that,” Roman scolds, avoiding eye contact. “It - it’s nothing.”

“I don’t know,” you reply, “I think it’s something.”

“Yeah, of course you think that. Because that’s the problem with your generation. You put labels on everything and think you’re all so special. Snowflakes,” he rants. “God, I can’t stand you people. You especially. I’d get that necklace for anyone.”

Defensive. He’s so fucking comically defensive, and it tickles you. “Hey, Roman,” you purr, in the mood to tease. 

Roman looks at you wearing a seemingly permanent smile on your lips as you touch and toy with your pendant. “What? What now?” he asks, flustered and impatient. 

“You’re kinda pink.”

“I’m not…pink,” Roman mumbles.

“You are. You’re blushing.”

“Shut the fuck up. I am not blushing.”

“No, you’re totally blushing. Your cheeks are all rosy.”

Roman buries his face in his hands and groans, eliciting a sweet giggle from you. The way you look at him, how you’re acting and making him feel. Tripping over his words, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding, cock achingly hard since you pecked his lips. You make him feel weak, and you’re not supposed to. Not like this. 

Your server returns then. “Are we ready to order?”

“Yes,” Roman quickly answers. “I’ll have the…fuck. One - one sec.” Roman raises a finger as he browses the menu. Sorry, you mouth to the server. “Entrees, entrees…” he mumbles.

“It’s right here,” you whisper, pointing to the entree section of Roman’s menu. His large bulge catches your eye, and you smile mischievously. When did that happen?

“Okay. Yeah. I think I’ll have the charred fil- fuck.”

Your server’s eyes widen at Roman, who quickly apologizes. Your hand is on his bulge, squeezing him through the fabric of his pants. 

“He wants the charred filet,” you cut in, answering for Roman. “I’ll have the gnocchi. Thank you,” you smile sweetly at the waiter, stroking Roman’s bulge over his pants. Silently, Roman gives the man a thumbs up and waves him away. Roman bites his lip as he waits for him to go back to the kitchen. “Alright, fuck this,” Roman snaps, squeezing your wrist and forcibly removing your hand from his lap. “You’re out of line.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re being weird. Are you feeling okay?” 

“We’ve had a nice night, you know. Do you really wanna do this?”

“Do what?”

“Cute.” Roman wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his side. “I give you an inch and you take a mile.” 

“You’re still so flushed,” you tease. This time, Roman doesn’t smile bashfully. Instead, he wears a frown and puts his hand on your knee, under the skirt of your dress. His palm slides up your thigh until his fingers meet your panties, and he teases you over the fabric. “Ooh. Look who’s wet,” he mocks, feeling your sticky dampness. Roman hooks his fingers under your panties and pulls them, sliding them down your thighs. “Lift up. They’re coming off.” 

“What are you doing?” you hiss. You hold his forearm in both of your hands, attempting to pry his hand away from your lap. His muscles flex beneath your palm as he fights against you. Roman’s taking this much farther than you did.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You have to stop. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Not like this, not here, not - Jesus Christ.” Roman tugs your panties down to your knees, then lifts your legs over his lap so he can remove them the rest of the way. It’s not long before you’ll be soaking through your dress.

“You’re not behind the wheel anymore.” Roman stuffs your soaked panties into his pocket and spreads your legs wide, one of your thighs still resting on his. “Shouldn’t have been in the first place.” You’re completely exposed right now, anyone could see what Roman’s doing to you. What you’re letting him do to you. He wriggles his fingers underneath the skirt of your dress and presses his thumb against your sensitive clit, causing you to gasp and jerk your body, hitting your free leg against the table. The utensils on your plate clatter loudly, and Roman’s glass of water spills over and onto the tablecloth. Another guest at the restaurant looks at you, and you force a smile at them. “Ooh, nice one,” Roman taunts.

Roman’s rubbing you in circles now, using his free hand to tug your dress up and look at your bare pussy under the warm light of the candles at your table. You look at him with pleading eyes, begging him, “We shouldn’t be doing this, Roman. Not here. Not like this.”

“Yes, here, and yes, like this. Don’t fucking argue with me.” Roman buries two fingers into your cunt, pushing them in and out of you slowly, collecting your arousal. “You didn’t think this one through, did you?” 

He drags his slick fingers up and down your folds, feeling you becoming wetter by the second. He circles your clit lazily, rubbing it gently, listening closely to the wet noises you make. Your waiter returns with your meals, and just like you did to Roman, Roman keeps his hands on you. “Better keep it together,” he murmurs in your ear, pulling your skirt back over the front of your thighs. 

Your server sets Roman’s filet in front of him, then your gnocchi down in front of you. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Roman answers. His demeanor has totally shifted. He’s cool, he’s back in control. “What are your desserts tonight? This one here has a pretty severe sweet tooth.”

“Dessert specials,” the server repeats. “I have to think. They change them up on us a lot.”

“Oh, take your time. We’ve got all night. Don’t we, kiddo?” 

“Mhm. Yep.” 

Roman takes a spoonful of his mashed potato side as your waiter thinks. “Tiramisu, of course,” he says. 

“Oh, well. Naturally.” Roman’s fingers slide down until he’s pressing them right against your slick little hole. 

“We have a cookie plate, too. A chocolate and hazelnut mousse cake. And a pineapple angel cake. And gelato.” 

Roman slides his fingers into your tight pussy, pressing them up to search for that spongy spot inside of you. “What flavors?”

“We have caramel butter cake, chocolate cashew raspberry…” 

The server’s voice becomes distant as he recites flavors. You squeak when Roman reaches your g-spot, swallowing your moans as he curls his fingers repeatedly against it. 

“We have sorbets, too.” 

“What sorbets?” Roman asks.

“Mango calamansi, cantaloupe, and lemongrass.” 

“Quite a dessert menu. Well, what do you think, birthday girl?”

“Tiramisu,” you mumble. 

“I didn’t catch that,” the server replies. “What was that?”

Roman answers for you, “She says she wants tiramisu. She’s just shy sometimes. Aren’t you?”

You glare at Roman, who smiles at you, flashing those perfect little teeth of his. His fingers stop suddenly - he has an idea. He cocks an eyebrow when your hips follow his hand, bucking into his palm, “Interesting,” he says, smiling fondly at your desperation. Your face feels hot and you feel out of your depth here. Roman was right to warn you about getting into this, about it being a nice night.

It worries you to see Roman scanning the room and biting his lip. He’s thinking, which is never good. “Roman. Whatever you’re thinking of doing - don’t.” 

Roman ignores your warning. “Keep telling me no and watch what happens,” he warns, then slides under the table with seamless ease. Once under the table, he pushes your thighs apart and pulls you close to the edge of your seat, putting one of your legs over his shoulder. 

He licks your inner thighs, his scruff abrasive against your damp skin. Roman licks you higher and higher, pulling you closer to his waiting mouth where you can feel his hot breath against your core. His head bulges a bit under the white tablecloth, and then you feel it - one long, fat lick of his tongue up your seam. “Ohhh my god,” you moan, garnering a look from someone at a nearby table. You smile and take a sip of your water with shaky hands. 

Roman starts small with little licks, sucking your labia into his mouth. First one side, then the other. His hands rest on your thighs, hot against your skin and squeezing your flesh. He licks over your clit next, then sucks it between his lips. He alternates between those two actions, stopping and starting all over again and again. You want more and less of it, of Roman, all at once.

Roman gently tugs the hood of your clit up, exposing your most sensitive part of yourself to his lips and tongue. He slides his two fingers inside you once more, fucking you on those digits as he sloppily licks your clit. You arch into his touch and reach under the table to hold his head and tug on his hair. “Roman,” you whimper. 

He coaxes release from you effortlessly, patiently using his tongue to draw steady circles on your clit as he curls those long, bony fingers inside you. You bite your lip so hard it breaks skin, squeezing Roman’s head with your thighs and whimpering softly as you feel the beginning of your climax begin to take over. 

Fuck. Your server is back with the tiramisu Roman had ordered for you. “The tiramisu,” he says, placing it on the table. “I apologize, I forgot to ask - do you and your date want coffee to go with dessert?”

“N- nah- no-” you stutter, though it comes out more as a moan as Roman fucks you with his tongue through your orgasm. Roman slaps your thigh and you jump in your seat, earning yourself a strange look from your server. Wrong answer. “Sor - yeah - yes. Yes.” Roman kisses your inner thigh in approval. 

Your poor fucking waiter. He nods wordlessly to go back into the kitchen and retrieve coffee for you and Roman. At the same time, Roman emerges from under the table with his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed and out of place, which is entirely your fault. “Fuck,” you whisper. Hastily, you finger-comb his hair into place. 

Roman grabs a spoon and takes the first bite of the tiramisu. “Mm,” he hums. “Sorry, birthday girl. Dad tax.”

Roman scoops up another bite of tiramisu, then brings the spoon to your lips. You take the bite, your cheeks warming when you taste your arousal on the metal. 

-

It’s quiet in the house when you and Roman come home. He stops briefly in the kitchen to put your leftovers away, then follows you up the steps and into your bedroom. “Need help with your zipper?” 

“Mhm. Please” 

Roman pulls your zipper down your back, then turns you around. Before you can think, he cups your face with both hands and kisses you, really kisses you. It’s no accidental peck on the lips, no. It’s intentional, deep and deliberate. His lips are soft, his tongue melding perfectly together with yours. When he pulls away, you look at him with knitted brows.

“You kissed me first, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Then it’s on the table.” 

Roman kisses you once more, then pulls away again. His eyes are dark and sparkling, and warm, too. He touches the pendant on your chest, holding it between his fingers before rubbing his thumb across the stones. It’s so intimate, and it leaves you breathless and confused. “Good birthday?” 

You nod. Roman smiles at you. 

“I’m glad. Goodnight, kiddo.” 

tysm for reading!! please scream nice and horny things at me if you enjoyed ♡ reblogs, comments, and asks are so appreciated and keep me motivated to write for you guys

tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamili @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh

[marks-bby]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘

⸝⸝⸝ ࿔ how the bats ( bruce and jason ) leave you ᵎᵎ

⸝⸝⸝ ࿔ disclaimer !! these are not accurate depictions of the characters. please do not let this influence your view on the selected characters written and/or mentioned.

BRUCE WAYNE ᵎᵎ

the newspaper rolled up at your feet gifted you a present you feared. the picture of bruce and selina walking out of a fancy restaurant made your swell up. but what was worse was the headline.

'POTENTIAL MRS. WAYNE ?!'

you drop the paper, gasping.

a tear slips through your water line, rolling down the apple of your cheek. the memories of bruce and you sharing intimate moments rolls in your mind as your body stands still in shock. the possibility that he could've been with her the day before and after baffles you. the sweet promises he whispered in your ears were now recycled and given to her.

that's why he kept you a secret...he didn't want any controversies.

maybe it was your fault. maybe you were at fault for thinking that bruce wayne, the prince of gotham would actually stoop to your level of notoriety and become a 'normal person'. someone of his stature shouldn't be caught dead with you, you told yourself.

for the next few days, you brainstormed your next move. you also took into consideration how you'd be in the aftermath. you'd be lying to yourself if you said bruce wasn't your love. you poured yourself into him. the detachment process would be a battle.

move from gotham? no, you're not that much of a loser to run away from your problems. but could you bare seeing his face everywhere after this? what if you got word that she was pregnant? or the extravagant wedding he hosted just for her. seeing her dolled up like a princess on the day you dreamed of with him.

you made your plan.

bruce was out doing his duties at Wayne Enterprises and wasn't expected to return back to the Manor for a few hours. you could buy plenty of time.

JASON TODD ᵎᵎ

"do you not understand how your words contradict the shit you do?" you argue, trying to get him to look at you. every time you moved into his line of sight, he turned away; like he was ashamed to see you.

his anger from being revived grew and grew. it was taking a toll on your relationship. the benign robin you knew from your teenage years was gone. his face was always contorted into a scowl at any given moment. he was never happy.

his eyes screwed shut as he heard the same words he heard every single time. yes, he did feel pain every time you cried due to his lack of compassion and his absence of love. but could he change? he didn’t know. nor did he try.

“you keep stay after it happens again and again. just fucking leave. you keep wasting your breath on the thing you don’t like knowing i won’t change. i’m not changing so you can experience your little fantasy you want with me.”

his blunt words make the crease in your brows relax. your jaws goes slack in…shock? pain? realization?

you didn’t know. but his words made your cheeks burn and your eyes gloss.

“it’s your fault that you keep staying. i don’t have to change.” he sneers, finally turning to you. for the first time since this conversation started again, his first look at you is in anger.

“that’s it?” you manage to choke out.

“that’s it.”

happy thanksgiving, y’all! my inbox is open for requests and i’m on a dc high rn ( especially for adrian chase! ) and if you want a follow up or add characters, ask! so send em ! request forum.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter. 

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway. 

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence. 

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan. 

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life. 

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together. 

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you. 

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes. 

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk. 

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop. 

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked. 

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in. 

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.” 

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.” 

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day. 

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually. 

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid. 

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did. 

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.” 

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner. 

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude. 

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.” 

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked. 

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” 

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.” 

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?” 

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word. 

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his. 

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.” 

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of. 

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked. 

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked. 

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.” 

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot. 

God, you were down bad. 

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face. 

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed. 

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible. 

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little. 

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting. 

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual. 

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken. 

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.” 

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?” 

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger. 

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision. 

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.” 

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm. 

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed. 

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece. 

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice. 

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!” 

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his. 

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive. 

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless. 

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here