#it's been so long since i posted anything that i just

[evelinessa]

I decided to answer all of these! If you're interested in any of my answers, you can see them below! ����

1. How many fics have you worked on since January?

Five works published in total. Three were oneshots, two were ongoing fics that I posted chapters for. Five published chapters in total for those aforementioned works (1 chapter for a fic I started posting for last year; 4 chapters posted for a fic I started posting for this year). One work with a finished, abridged version written, but unpublished (for a zine). I will likely finish the extended version and post to AO3 sometime next year.

As far as for the number of WIPs… I haven't kept track. I've started and worked on so many WIPs this year. At least dozens, I'd say. Aside from a few, I haven't necessarily made much progress on them, but I still worked on them, even if it was just spending a few minutes to plan or jot down more ideas.

2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

Working on and starting to publish a longfic (In Another Life), if that counts. Though when I committed to starting to post it, the plan hadn't grown to longfic scope yet, so that was kinda accidental. Planning that fic (which I'm still doing), requires very extensive plotting beyond what I've done for anything else. I even invested in a plotting software just to make it a bit more manageable.

Another new thing I tried was in A Show of (Im)perfection, where I worked hard to make sure the scene transitions from when I go into a flashback and back to the present feel as seamless as possible, making the jump less jarring. This is usually from the character looking at or doing something in the past/present that continues or is followed up by something similar in the next scene (past or present).

One more possible new thing is that I spent more time in a dream/nightmare segment (A Demon's Justice chapter 4, WIP) and played around with the illogical nature of that/some symbolism. While I have written glimpses/short parts of dreams/nightmares before, it was the first time I did something longer and more continuous.

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

I pretty much exclusively write for Ace Attorney, so that.

4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?

One: Ace Attorney.

5. What ships captured your heart?

It's always Mitsunaru/Narumitsu. My OTP out of any media. I'll always love them and want to create stories with them.

6. What characters captured your heart?

By extension of mainly writing my OTP, it would be the characters of the ship: Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth. Phoenix got to be the POV character of most of what I wrote this year, though Miles still had a turn. Miles is my absolute favorite character, so he captured my heart even if I wrote his POV less this year. I also got to write another fic from Trucy's POV, so she got to have some of the spotlight as well.

7. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

Nope. Technically, I did start planning a WIP for a ship I haven't written before as part of a group project, but I haven't started actually writing it.

8. What fic meant the most to you to write?

It's still a WIP and not published yet, but probably The Last Day of Summer. It's a slice of life kidfic (featuring the Signal Samurai Trio) that is part one of a Narumitsu series centering around a park by the courthouse.

I love slice of life and I love fluffy kidfic. I get pretty self-indulgent and usually have a lot of fun writing it. The reason this WIP means so much to me though, is because it's something that has been in the works since around May 2021. It's also one of two story ideas I had about a year before I even started writing (both originated as comic ideas). I had already adapted the first of the two into a fic (Keeping Up Appearances) a long time ago, but this one I'm still working on. It has expanded and changed a lot since it was first conceptualized as a comic, and even when it was first outlined as a story.

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

The Last Day of Summer (still a WIP), for the same reasons stated in the previous question.

10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

I don't have many options, but probably (Just) A Haircut. It originally started as a fill for a prompt on Discord back in late 2022. I was motivated to expand and finish it for Narumitsu Week. I think it's satisfying to finally finish something that was started so long ago.

The fic I wrote for that previously mentioned zine was also originally inspired by a Discord conversation around the same time in 2022 (and also was greatly expanded during the writing process). I think that one is less satisfying for me since I still have to write the extended version at some point. So even though there is a finished version, it isn't truly finished for me.

11. What fic was the most difficult to write?

Possibly In Another Life, since the scope and how ambitious it is has been giving me trouble with plotting everything (and still not nearly done with the planning), even if the writing itself hasn't been particularly difficult (aside from the description-heavy scenes). Or it's the fic I wrote for that zine, as writing smut is incredibly difficult and stressful for me (plus it takes me forever to write).

12. What fic was the easiest to write?

Probably Where We Lay. I think I went from first thinking of the idea to being completely finished in a little over a week, all while forcing through the worst writer's block I've had. Unless something is only a few hundred words, I'm never able to write a fic (from first coming up with the idea to completion) in that short of a time frame, even in better circumstances than I was in.

13. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

Shortest: Where We Lay at 2k.

Longest: In Another Life at 20.5k and 4/24 (but will likely have more chapters in the end) chapters posted.

14. What were your go-to writing songs?

I usually don't listen to anything while writing. I've sometimes listened to the AA orchestra CDs or the piano/some other remix ones, but I haven't done that in a long time. I think I've listened to a few songs with lyrics (especially on one of my fic playlists), but haven't done it enough to specify any go-to writing songs.

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

I don't have many options to choose from, but the one that took me the longest/was the most difficult was probably A Show of (Im)perfection. Where We Lay took me a bit too, but I don't think it took as long/was as difficult as A Show of (Im)perfection.

16. What's your favorite title of the year?

My favorite is probably A Demon's Justice, but since I technically didn't title that one this year, I'll go with In Another Life instead. I mean, I technically didn't title that one this year either (had a much smaller version of this fic planned & titled since at least 2023), but it at least was posted this year.

17. Share your favorite opening line

Not sure if it counts since the first chapter was published last year, but the opening line for A Demon's Justice:

The trial’s climax fast approached, and the scales of justice were tilted in his favor—as expected.

I feel like that one is the most gripping compared to the first lines of my other published fics this year, or known first lines to WIPs I worked on this year.

18. Share your favorite ending line

It's A Demon's Justice again. While it's not the last line of the entire fic, it's the final line of the most recently published chapter (chapter 3) which was posted earlier this year:

And so, he found solace in one simple truth: Miles was exactly where he deserved to be.

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

I love dialogue! Not sure how short it should be to consider it a piece, but I've been quite fond of this exchange (from In Another Life chapter 2) ever since I wrote it. Here's the whole scene (it isn't too long):

20. Share your funniest line

Honestly, I don't really consider my stuff funny (humor isn't one of my strong points), but I do occasionally write lines/situations and banter that I find a bit humorous, or at least entertaining. It's also usually not a single line, since most of the humorous stuff I write happens in banter.

Several of Miles and Larry's interactions in my no DL-6, college AU WIP fic (where the Signal Samurai trio play Never Have I Ever together and get drunk) fit in that category. But YMMV on whether you find any humor in it or not. I would class it as more entertaining/amusing rather than funny, really.

I included several notable moments in this fic so far, especially since some build off each other (there are gaps between each screenshot with omitted text). This was just how Miles and Larry wanted to interact with each other in this fic. Miles and Larry kept wanting to argue (lightheartedly) and it was all unplanned. I had to keep reining the dialogue/direction of the fic back on track, because they would get into it with each other every so often and sidetrack the plot lol. One of the moments where I feel the characters are more in control than I am😂.

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

Something for this year? I guess the biggest would be deciding to add a subplot/an additional POV (Miles') to In Another Life. It's the main reason I'm still heavily involved in planning that fic before I write more. The entire fic was originally planned without having access to Miles' POV in mind (including everything written and published so far).

It changes the story quite a lot, but at the same time, not too much. It's important for me to keep (or only minorly change) all my original planned plot points, especially the major ones and the planned ending/direction of the story. I want to stay true to my original vision as much as possible, while still taking advantage of what I can do with an additional subplot and POV.

I can explore characters and relationships that otherwise wouldn't be touched on much or at all (elevating at least one character from cameo to supporting character status). It also gives me more plot moments to work with and help spread out the relationship moments and bulk up the timeline. It also gave me more ideas for relationship moments, which definitely helps as I'm still trying to think of more romance and bonding moments to write.

The negative is it does impact some plot points and I have to think about how to still have them work well. I've also thought of so much for that subplot, that it feels less like a C plot and closer to an A plot, so I might have to think of stuff to add to bulk up my actual A plot.

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

Scrivener mostly, as it's my main writing program. I've also used Google Docs a little, particularly when I was editing down and finishing what I wrote for that zine fic. I always do my final editing in Word, since the grammar/spellcheck is not as good in Google Docs and pretty much nonexistent in Scrivener. Also, I write into a private Discord server at times when I get some ideas I want to write down, as it's quicker and easier than opening Scrivener (I move it there later) and I can do it on the go. I've written a bit into Dropbox's text editor, as that is the workaround to access my Scrivener files on my Android phone. While I've written by hand before, I don't recall writing any fic by hand this year.

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

This is such a hard question, because I don't feel like there is something that really sticks out to me, especially not something that I haven't mentioned in the answer to another question.

This might not be what the question is asking, exactly, but there is one writing-related thing that sticks out to me.

Without going into details, someone had reached out to me to tell me that something I'd written had resonated with them and reading the story had given them some comfort during a difficult time. I was—and still am—touched that something I wrote was able to help someone and provide some measure of relief, even if temporary. I wish them well.

24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

Not really. Mostly just relax and do something not related to writing for a bit. Sometimes I hold off on a treat or doing something else I want to do when I'm trying to finish something (mostly when I'm up against a deadline). If that's the case, then I can allow myself to enjoy it once I'm finished. Mainly, I just allow myself to enjoy the sense of accomplishment of finishing a story, as well as the dopamine hit from getting to share it and having other people read it/share their thoughts.

25. How did you recharge between fics?

Nothing specific, just relaxing/doing something unrelated to writing that I enjoy. Spending that time completely guilt free and without thinking about how I should be writing instead. This is especially the case if I finished writing something for a deadline (likely very close to the deadline), since I procrastinate a lot.

26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?

Yes! I completed one drawing (of Ema Skye), but it isn't posted anywhere (aside from in a couple Discord servers). That was after not really drawing anything for years. I want to do more, but I've gotten wrapped up into my writing and other things instead.

27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

One fic for the Narumitsu Big Bang 2024 (my first bang event), one fic for the Narumitsu ship week, one fic as part of a gift event for a friend's birthday, and two fics for zines. I also tried to take part in the Supernatural Mitsunaru Exchange & Fest 2024, but had to drop out, unfortunately.

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

Anyone who read my works this year, anyone who left a kudos and especially a comment. Anyone who told me (whether on AO3, Discord, or on social media) that they liked something I've written. It's always encouraging to know that stories I've created have been enjoyed by others.

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Unless I surprise myself by coming up with and writing a very short fic idea, or making a lot of progress on one of my short WIPs, I don't plan, or expect, to have anything else finished or published this year.

I'd like to write at least a little more and make some progress on my WIPs, but I've been taking a bit of a break these last few weeks, so there's a chance I might not write anything else before the year ends.

30. What would you like to write next year?

Not sure about anything specific, but I'd generally like to work more on my existing WIPs. I'd love to finish and post the remaining chapters of A Demon's Justice. I'd also love to finally finish and post the first part of The Park by the Courthouse series, The Last Day of Summer, considering how I've been chipping away at it for years, and it's one of the first story ideas I had (before I even started writing fanfic).

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[misshunterskye]

sylus likes when you maintain contact in the bedroom. this imagine is 100% inspired by this post. it made me have thoughts. so enjoy.

content: smut ( mdni )

“Look at me.”

He grunts the words out, his hand reaching down to grab your chin. You’ve just woken up and the both of you are taking advantage of Sylus’ morning excitement.

However, when your eyes rolled back in pleasure, and then shut he gave a tsk, followed by that statement.: Look at me.

It takes you a second to register what he says. He pauses while waiting, before repeating it, emphasizing each world with a savage thrust: "Look at me. "

Your eyes fly open, and you whine at him. "Sy!"

“That’s a good girl. Your eyes are so pretty, so soft…” he rasps. His hands are now gripping you everywhere now as you find yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

Sylus is like a beast, still rocking into you without mercy. His stamina and self control were amazing, and he often could fuck you through multiple orgasms. This morning seemed to be no different. He could feel you tightening around him.

"Good girl. Go ahead and come for me, alright? You've been so good, you deserve it." His mouth brushes over the shell of your ear as he rasps it to you. And just like that, you're clenching around him, a low pitched mewl coming out of your throat.

It makes him chuckle, but it's mixed with a groan. He always tells you that it's worth the self control to feel you tighten around him over and over again. As soon as he's fucked you through that orgasm, he flips you both over so that he's on his back.

"Ride me. And keep your eyes on me, beautiful. I want to see every reaction on that pretty little face. No matter how small." He smirks before playfully slapping your ass.

"I want you to take what you want," he says, "But if you close your eyes, I'll take over."

It's not a real threat, knowing that it'll still send you to the moon either way. But you nod at his demand, starting to rock your hips back and forth. He's already so big in general, but when you ride him, it makes him feel even bigger.

It's not long before you're working yourself to a frenzy on his cock. You notice a lot since he won't let you shut your eyes. It's almost infuriating how he seems almost unaffected. The key word, almost. There's little furrows of his brow, moments where his jaw twitches - struggling to remain a smirk... but he still manages to look coolly at you as you ride him.

"I'm so -- Sy," you whine, your hips whipping back and forth even faster now.

"Yes," he says, leaning up to suck at your nipples, even nipping gently at the underside of your breast. "Let me have it. Let me feel it... let go, take what you want. Take me."

His dirty commands send you over the edge. It's clear after your last orgasm that his restraint is holding on by a thread. Once you come down, he leans up to kiss you harshly.

"You like making me so lovesick, don't you?" He accuses in between words. It's teasing, along with nips and sucks along your neck. It's clear he's getting close, and the need to fuck you harder, rougher is setting in.

Once again, he flips you over, but this time, he withdraws from you. It's for the first time since you both woke up, and he tugs you so you're practically bending over the bed. "Want me to show you just how love sick you've made me, kitten?"

You nod, blissed out from your previous orgasms, and he growls, entering you to the hilt in one smooth motion. At this angle, he's pushing you up and down against the quilt. It''s rubbing against your clit as his cock pounds into you.

"Sylus!" You mewl, your hands looking for anything to hold onto. Instead of letting them find purchase, he takes them, pinning them behind your back as he continues to pound into you.

His thrusts are getting messy, and grunts are falling from his mouth in a symphony. You love the sounds he makes right before he finishes. It's enough to bring you to the brink of yet another orgasm.

"You're...you're so fucking impossible not to adore," he grunts, his thrusts speeding up even faster. Then, you feel him swell inside of you. You both come together, and he lets out a loud grunt as he pulls out, coming all over your stomach.

He collapses onto you for just a moment, and you both enjoy the intimacy before he's walking to the bathroom. He emerges with a washrag, cleaning up your backside. Once you're all taken care of, you both decide to spend the rest of the morning cuddling in bed. After all, after all that... who would want to leave the bed?

[polaroidpascal]

i saw frankie kissing santa claus || joel & frankie

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : joel x f!reader x frankie morales

summary : after everyone leaves your house for a holiday party, you find one straggler left behind -or- you catch frankie kissing santa claus joel

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, everyone in this fic is bi bc i am too and i said so, joel in a santa suit, reader and joel have a little (big) crush on frankie boy, handjob, blowjob(s), face sitting, multiple orgasms for reader, orgasm denial, lots and lots of leaking (from all of them. im sorry.), one in the mouth one down south, sizes mentioned, cum eating, creampie, aftercare bc its essential and they are softies!!!

WC : 6k

a/n : merry christmas to everyone who celebrates!! six months since ive written anything at all and now i'm back with a christmas special LMFAO 😭 honestly, life has been a hectic hell since i last posted and i'm really happy i was able to actually finish something i started to end out the year 🥹 i hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season, and i hope i won't be as much of a stranger as i have been lately!! hope you enjoy this!! <3

“Oh, come on, Joel! People are gonna love it!”

“I am not putting it on, end of discussion, “ he said. You huffed a sigh and plopped down on the couch, Santa hat and suit in hand draping over your legs. 

For as long as you had been seeing Joel, you’d begged and begged for him to let you plan one of his company holiday parties only for him to tell you that he’d rather just treat the guys to a night at a nice bar. He’d always let you come along, of course, feeding you whatever fruity little cocktails you asked for to pass the night along.

Last year was… something else. That summer, the company was absolutely swamped with projects, meaning Tommy and Joel had to hire some more help to keep up. One of the new hires, Francisco, “Frankie” for short, outshone all of his peers. He was effortlessly helpful in ways Tommy and Joel hadn’t even intended him to be. Just in the 6 months he had been with the company, he had already (rightfully) climbed a little higher up the ladder to help with the more important decisions rather than just being an extra set of hands on site.

Every now and then, Joel would tell you something else about Frankie that made your heart flutter with gratitude that the extra help was finally letting off some stress that he always seemed to carry. When August had rolled around, the Texas heat reached an all-time high. One particularly hot day, you suggested that Joel invite Frankie over to swim and barbecue so you could finally meet him.

He was a big man, just like Joel. Sturdy frame and tanned skin, and the sweetest manners a man could have, greeting you with a gentle handshake and a kindly playful, “It’s nice to meet you, Joel’s always talking about you.”

You spent the day in the sun and shade, sipping drinks and dipping into the cold water to stave off some of the brutal heat. The backyard filled with laughter all afternoon until the sun had finally set, the last hoorah of golden rays draining from the sky.

“So—“ Joel grunted, settling in bed with you as you curled into his side, “what’d you think of Frankie?”

“He’s great,” you hummed with a smile, settling into Joel’s post-shower warmth. “I can see why you like him so much, he seems exactly like how you always talked about him.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s somethin’. Ain’t like the other guys. Don’t have to tell him more ‘an once to do somethin’…”

You look up and see Joel staring into space, a glimmer of something else in his eye as he zones out.

A smirk slides into your cheek. “Mhm… kinda pretty too,” you tease.

“Huh?”

“He’s kinda… pretty. I don’t know.”

A ghost of a blush threatens to bloom across Joel’s chest as he shifts a bit underneath you. “Think he’s pretty, huh?”

“Well, yeah. Anyone with eyes can see that,” you giggle, propping up on one arm to fully face him. “Do you think he’s pretty?”

Joel stops, that once threatening blush beginning to spread a little more, a little darker. “Wh—?”

“Do you think Frankie is pretty?”

“Is this some sort of test or somethin’?”

“No, not a test. I just… you do realize you’ve been talking about him for months?”

“Well, he’s done real good for the company. Jus’ happy not to be so stressed all th’ time. You sure have been enjoying it.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “Well, yes. But that’s not my point. Been talking about him for months and he had you laughing all afternoon today.”

“That ain’t fair, he had you laughing too. Matter of fact, them little shrieks could’a woke up a bear in hibernation,” he joked, poking at your ticklish spots and making you recreate those shrieks of giggles from earlier.

“Stop, stop! I get it!” you said between laughs. “Jesus…” You settled back into his arms pulling the covers over the two of you some more. “Doesn’t answer my question, though.” Joel hums and pulls you somehow closer and you get comfortable in his grip, feeling sleep start to claim your mind. “Do you?” you ask, voice dripping with fatigue.

“Do I what?”

“Think Frankie’s pretty?”

You feel him huff and shake his head, then you hear the smile in his voice, “Yeah… yeah, I do.”

You fell asleep that night with a smile.

—

“Bet you Frankie would like it if you got a little festive,” you pouted under your breath, just above barely audible, just where he would have to ask you—

“What was that?”

“I said I bet you Frankie would like it if you got a little festive.”

“‘S that so? And what makes you think I’d wanna put it on just to impress him, hm?”

“N— nothing… Please, put on the suit, Joel?” you beg, donning your biggest puppy eyes you can manage. “The whole house is already decorated. Everyone’s gonna love it. If anyone gives you shit, I’ll show them what’s up. But I promise they’re gonna love it. Pleeeeease?”

Joel stands, silent, crossing his arms and chewing his cheek, thinking.

A beat passes, then another beat, your relentless begging gaze boring holes into his heart.

He sighs. “Gimme the suit,” he says and extends a hand.

“Really? Really, Joel?”

“Gimme the suit ‘fore I change my mind,” he says, fighting the smile curing at the corners of his mouth.

—

You were right, the suit was a fucking hit.

Every one of Joel’s employees that walked in was enthusiastically shocked that the old man would get into the spirit, patting him on the back and hyping him up the whole night. Each reaction made you giggle as you greeted them all and showed them into the house.

Tommy was probably the most surprised of them all, giving his big brother so much shit about dressing up, but Joel just laughed it off and shoved his brother in the house.

Not long after Tommy arrived, the doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it!” you told Joel and made your way to the door.

It was Frankie, dressed in his nicest sweater and least damaged pair of jeans, still wearing that baseball cap he was never seen without, holding a bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around it. 

“Frankie!” you exclaimed, extending your arms for a hug.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late, the traffic was horrible.”

“It’s okay, Tommy just showed up and he doesn’t have an excuse at all.”

Frankie laughs and remembers the bottle in his hands. “Oh, this is for you and Joel.” He hands it over with a smile.

“Oh, Frankie… you didn’t have to get us anything!”

“Consider it my thanks for all the hospitality,” he says.

“Well, thank you for the wine. Come in!”

There’s no need for a tour with him, having already been to your house countless times before this. When he rounds the corner into the kitchen, he nearly trips over his own feet seeing Joel. 

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention that,” you said, poorly hiding the giggle bubbling up in your throat.

“Hi, Frankie,” Joel says, shyly raising an arm to wave.

“Hey-y-y,” Frankie giggles, waving back with one arm and holding his stomach with the other, almost doubled over in laughter.

The party plays out better than you even thought it would, the warm, bass-y tones of laughter filling the space of your home as everyone mingles and eats and drinks. Minutes easily turn to hours effortlessly dragging the night along. The later it gets, the more people slowly filter out returning back to their homes. You walk Tommy out to his girlfriend, Maria’s car, whom you called about half an hour earlier when you overheard him tell someone one more wouldn’t hurt.

As you close the door and turn back to the house, surprisingly very neat for having just hosted a party of contractors, it’s… eerily quiet. You expected Joel to be just behind you waiting to come back inside so he could whisk you off to bed. But he was nowhere to be found. 

You creep back through the house, not seeing him anywhere. You round the corner to the living room and…

You thought everyone had left. But, you guess the last to arrive ended up being the last to leave as well.

You see Frankie and Joel sitting on the couch, Joel lounging as normal, still decked in his Santa gear, and Frankie sitting sideways facing him, one hand cupped on Joel’s jaw, kissing him so slow, so gently… so intoxicatingly beautiful.

You stay in the door frame for a minute watching the two make out on the couch, hearing the tiniest little grunts and groans from each of them. A fire ignites in your belly and quickly grows before you clear your throat to break the silence. 

Frankie leaps back, starting to fumble his words and blushing bright red almost immediately. You look at Joel who looks calm and collected as ever, if not just a little dazed and blissed from the kissing he was just doing. 

“I-I— um— we— I—“

“It’s okay, I’m not mad,” you say gently, convincingly as you can.

Frankie must have mastered the puppy eye look just as you had and was using them on you now. “Y-you’re… not?”

You chuckle. “No. Furthest from it, really.”

“Told you she’d be okay with it,” Joel pipes up, tugging him closer on the couch.

You inch closer into the room. “We, um… I think Joel and I have a… confession to make.” Frankie watches with big, curious eyes as you make your way to sit on Joel’s other side. “Joel… how can I put it… Joel has a little bit of a… crush on you, I’d say.”

“Now hang on one minute—“

“Thinks you’re an excellent worker, wouldn’t stop talking about you for months.”

“You’re the one that said to bring him over in the first place!” Joel argues. 

“That’s true. Just wanted to see the guy responsible for helping you out so much… Remember that first time you came over?”

Frankie nods, still watching as curious as ever. 

“Well… y’know what? You should tell him what you said, Joel.”

“Huh?”

“Y’know… about how you think he’s real pretty and all…”

You see Frankie shift a little out of the corner of your eye, barely causing a ripple in the couch attempting to hide the movement.

“If I remember correctly… you’re the one that said that first.”

Your cheeks grow a little hot at the admission. “But you agreed with me.”

“Well, ‘cause I do. Think he’s pretty.”

You finally glance back at Frankie whose blushing cheeks are bright red at this point. “All that to say… I think we both have a bit of a liking for you, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he asks, completely unsure how he ended up here, but eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah. Is that… are you okay with that?”

“Shit... y-yeah— yes. Yes, I am,” he says, trying to keep a grasp on whatever composure he has left.

You smile back at him. “Good. Joel, you wanna show him to our room, then?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” he says, taking Frankie’s hand and giving it a kiss before leading him down the hall.

The three of you glide down the hall, the tension pouring out of your pores and making the air hotter, thicker, as you cross the threshold of the bedroom.

Joel leads Frankie to the edge of the bed, letting him sit and leaning in to give him a sweet, deep kiss to his plush lips. They both groan into it, savoring the softness of the other’s skin.

“Mmm… you should try, baby. He’s a real good kisser,” Joel offers.

You sit right next to Frankie, cupping his cheek to turn his face to you and kiss him. 

Joel’s right, too. He is a good kisser. His velvet soft lips part when his tongue darts out to taste yours, a small whimper slipping from his throat as your mouths dance together, getting to know one another, melting into one. Frankie reaches up to grab your face, willing your mouth closer into him and your body follows, all but climbing into his lap to taste more, more, more as his hands trail up your body under your shirt and up to your chest—

The kiss is only broken when Frankie moans into your mouth, looking away from you with a hooded stare as he finishes yanking off your shirt. You follow his gaze to the floor just between his legs where Joel has sunk to the floor, palming Frankie over his jeans.

“Tha’s gotta be uncomfortable, hm?” he asks, giving his bulge another gentle squeeze. Frankie grunts and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing and the slow leak threatening to ruin his pants. “Keep kissing him, angel. Gonna take care’a this.”

Joel’s hand slides up Frankie’s torso, slowly coaxing him to lay flat on the bed. You chase him with your mouth listening to each tiny gasp that leaves his lips as Joel gets to work with his pants.

The clink of his belt… the hum of a zipper… the tiny shimmy of Frankie’s hips as Joel slides his boxer briefs down his legs, stopping mid-thigh and running his hands back up to his hips.

“Jesus christ…” you hear him whisper, admiring the almost fully hardened length of the man in front of him, the tip of his cock shining in the low light from the bedside lamps, a small damp patch just barely seeping through to the outside of his underwear.

Joel’s own cock jumps at the sight. If he wasn’t turned on already from Frankie’s perfect lips, he sure as hell was turned on now. He can hardly keep himself from touching, one hand wrapping around Frankie’s length in an instant.

Frankie’s hips buck up and he pulls away from your mouth again, a low moan bellowing from his chest.

“Yeah? Feels good?” Joel mocks from below, lazily stroking up and down, up and down, swirling his hand at the top making Frankie squirm underneath him. “Look here, angel, look how hard he is.”

You glance down and can’t help the whimper that falls from your lips watching Joel slowly jerk Frankie off, the bright red tip leaking down his own length and making everything slick. And the sounds…

But it’s when you see that Joel’s other hand has his own length grasped in his palm, rubbing over his pants, that you let out a borderline growl… something about watching him get off to this… this idea that you had and felt brave enough to open the door of discussion to… this idea that Joel seemed more than happy to indulge in…

It’s then you realize how damp you feel, the wetness that’s been slowly building and building without you even realizing leaking out to soak your panties. You try to discreetly rub your legs together, seeking some sort of friction, anything at all.

But Joel sees it. He always sees it.

“Feelin’ left out, baby? She wants some attention, huh?”

You look at him with pleading eyes, an unspoken yes, yes please…

“Say, Frankie… that pretty mouth of yours got any other talents?”

Frankie looks down his body where Joel sits, already looking so fucked out and gone. “H-huh?”

“Take his mouth, go ‘head.”

Your body is buzzing as you look back at Frankie, the flame of arousal burning bright in his pupils as he frantically nods, leaning back for you to move. You take off your pants and ruined panties and shift over him, straddling his broad frame and maneuvering your knees around his head.

You hover over his face, looking down for permission to lower, “Is— Are you okay wi—”

You’re cut off by Frankie’s hands on the apex of your thighs tugging you down to meet his lips, and it is fucking heaven. “Oh, fuck…”

His scruff scratches the most sensitive parts of you, giving you exactly the friction you needed as his tongue greedily laps up your arousal, drinking it up like he’s been lost in the desert and you’re his oasis. You rock against his lips taking more and more of everything he’s giving you, and he helps you, coaxing you back and forth as more slick leaks from your hole. “Yeah, like that…” you moan, one hand slipping under his cap and through his ruffled hair, neither of you caring when it falls off onto the bed.

“Keep doin’ that, boy,” you hear Joel rumble behind you, followed by a whine from below right against your clit, making you jolt at the sudden vibration.

You look back and see Joel easing down Frankie’s length, slipping inch by inch down his throat, bobbing up and down taking more and more with each bob until he’s taken it all to the hilt.

God, is it a sight. You’re already whimpering watching him take more and more, but when he’s bottomed out and looks up, eyes barely watering, and he gives you a wink, you can’t help the downright pornographic moan that escapes your lips.

You turn back and look down at Frankie, seeing tears just starting to well in his eyes when he opens them with the most desperate gaze you’ve ever seen. “Fuck, Frankie… so fucking pretty…” you moan out, throwing your head back as his tongue dips inside you and his nose nudges your clit perfectly.

“Fuck…” you hear Joel gasp. “Fuck, angel… turn around, please. Lemme see that pretty face while he eats you out.”

You oblige, gently prying Frankie’s hands off your hips and cautiously spinning around over him. He gives you no time to settle back down, pulling you back flush with his face and drowning himself in you once again.

It’s a miracle he isn’t suffocating, or at least he doesn’t care if he is. He eats, and eats, and eats, your juices dripping down his face and his neck making a mess of him below. He works your hole and your clit, drawing out cries from you until your thighs are shaking, barely holding yourself up.

“Fuck yeah, baby… ride his fuckin’ face like that,” Joel encourages, stroking Frankie in tandem with the rock of your hips. “Gonna fuckin’ cum on his face, baby? Bet tha’s what he wants. ‘S that what you want, boy? Want her drippin’ down your tongue?”

You barely hear it over your whines, but a muffled mmhm is all you need to chase your rapidly building high, the feral need taking over you as you ride his face. His scruff tickles your most sensitive spots and his warm, wet, determined tongue works overtime to send you over the edge, and it fucking works, your orgasm crashing through you as you brace yourself on his belly, riding it out as you spill more slick down his face and his mouth works you through every second.

He doesn’t let up, licking you through every wave until you have to use every ounce of strength to fight his grip holding you down. You flop on the bed to the side and see Frankie’s face absolutely drenched in you, his mustache and scruffy beard soaking wet and his cheeks red as roses.

Frankie’s eyes are closed, his chest heaving as Joel works him faster, harder, the squelching noise from the precum furiously leaking from the tip of his cock almost drowning out the whines leaving his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… ohhhhh, fuck— waitwaitwait—” he begs, pleads, with any ounce of strength he can still muster up.

Joel stops in an instant, “What’s wrong? You okay, Frankie? What happened?” he asks, concern drenching every word.

“It’s… fuck… nothin’s wrong… just…” he huffs, trying desperately to catch his breath. “Fuck, didn’t… wanna cum yet… shit…”

Worry leaves Joel’s features in an instant, swiftly replaced by contentment and ease that he’s alright. “Ohhh… was gettin’ t’be too much, huh?”

“Yeah…” he answers, breathlessly.

Joel rises on creaky knees to stand from where he knelt, reaching for Frankie’s hand to sit him up again. “You good to stand?” he asks, gently, voice nothing but bass.

He helps Frankie up on wobbly legs and switches places with him, dragging him into his frame between his knees, reaching up to his face and kissing him, licking you off his lips. “Mmm… tastes good, don’t she?” he asks with a smirk before crashing back into Frankie’s mouth.

His hands leave Frankie’s face to tug down the costume pants, finally freeing his fully hardened cock, tugging on it a few times before reaching for Frankie’s hands and guiding them into his lap. Frankie’s hand wraps around Joel’s length, his grasp encompassing his whole girth, but just barely so. Joel helps his hand along, up and down, up and down, a steady rhythm to make his cock slippery in his grasp. 

Frankie’s hand feels perfect, but Joel is an impatient man. And when he wants something, he’s gonna get it.

“You wanna sit on Santa’s lap, Frankie?” he says with a downright diabolical smirk.

“Oh, fuck— yes, please. Can I?”

“‘Course you can,” Joel smiles, reaching for the hem of his pants again and tugging them all the way down as Frankie toes off his shoes and steps out of each pant leg. He pats his thigh right where it meets his torso, “C’mon, boy, right here.”

Joel scoots back on the bed to make room as Frankie kneels on the bed lining himself up with Joel’s length. Frankie spits on his hand generously, giving Joel a few more tugs before lining him up with his tight ring of muscle.

“Shit, boy… no stranger to this, huh?”

Frankie just blushes, slowly lowering down to Joel’s lap, moaning as his greedy hole takes inch after inch until he’s sitting flush with Joel’s pelvis. He rises and falls a few times before finding a slow, steady rhythm, throwing his head back and bouncing eagerly up and down.

You watch in awe as Frankie fucks himself on Joel’s cock, resting his arms on Joel’s broad shoulders just like you do, Joel’s hands sitting on Frankie’s hips just like they do on your own. You feel your core flutter at the sight, half unaware of the whiny whimper that falls from your lips and fully unaware of your hand traveling south to play with the slick still drenching your folds.

The noise makes Joel turn his head and he extends his hand to you dragging you closer to him. He grabs your cheek and kisses you, his tongue begging entry into your mouth as you swallow each other’s moans.

Frankie wills his eyes open, watching the two of you make out right in front of him. It makes his cock throb as he bounces harder, a little faster, and Joel can feel him getting impatient.He pulls away from your desperate mouth, holding Frankie’s hips still and met with a whining protest about it. 

“Calm down a sec, cowboy. Got an idea…” You both look to him with curious, fucked out eyes. “Gonna lay back an’ you’re gonna ride my face just like you did for him, ‘kay princess?”

You nod back firmly, making a move towards him—

“Ah, ah— eager girl. Wasn’t finished…” he turns and looks at Frankie. “You got a hard job, think you can handle it?”

Frankie nods just as firmly, desperate to hear his rules to follow. “U-uh huh, I can handle it. Please.”

“Gonna keep ridin’ this cock, got it? But… you don’t cum ‘til I say so. Not even when she does. Not ‘til I say.”

Frankie’s chest jumps as his breath hitches, a grunt of a moan stifled at the back of his throat. His eyes flutter as he nods, trying desperately to keep his hips stilled and finding it harder and harder.

“We all good?” 

“Yes— yeah, all good,” you and Frankie both enthusiastically agree, desperate for more.

Joel leans back, tugging your hand his way. As you go to straddle him, he stops you. “Face him, baby. He didn’t get to see how pretty you look when you fall apart.”

Your eyes roll a bit as you lazily agree, spinning around to face Frankie. Sweat makes his forehead twinkle as he slowly rocks and bobs in Joel’s lap. You lower onto Joel’s face and immediately brace yourself on his belly, the feeling of his tongue more intense this time, still sensitive from before.

As hard as it is to keep his eyes open, Frankie can’t peel his gaze away from your face, contorted in pleasure as moans spill from your lips. “Oh, Joel… fuck, yes…”

Frankie can’t help but reach towards you, just wanting to touch you, feel your body… he cups your tits over your bra that you quickly undo and toss off the bed, desperate to feel his hands on your skin. “Go ahead, Frankie. Touch me, please,” you beg, holding his hands to your chest and squeezing them.

He mirrors you, kneading the flesh there and quickly throwing you back into the fire as Joel’s skillful tongue brings you closer and closer to the edge already. He never fails to unravel you in an instant, his tongue memorizing every inch of you right down to the softest spots that send you reeling in the blink of an eye.

It’s barely long at all before you feel the fire burning in your belly again, growing and growing as you desperately try to last just a little longer.

You distract yourself in Frankie, mesmerized by his face and his body that you wish you could see more of, hiding under his t-shirt that’s somehow still on.

“This—” you say, pawing at the hem of his shirt, “Off. Get this off—”

He doesn’t hesitate to help you peel his shirt off his sweaty body, throwing it haphazardly off the bed. His body is beautiful, the curves of his belly mirroring Joel’s so closely, and your hands are drawn to his skin like magnets, feeling every inch you can reach.

You don’t realize you’re lifting away from Joel’s face until he yanks you back down again, mercilessly lapping at your folds.

He pulls off again, just for a moment. “‘Member angel, he can’t come ‘til I say. Longer you’re ridin’ my face, longer he’s gotta wait.”

He’s back on your cunt in an instant, and your fluttering eyes barely catch the aroused and panicked expression on Frankie’s face. His cock makes a mess of Joel’s belly below, the leaking head spilling pearly white now as it gets harder and harder to stave off his orgasm. He languidly rocks back and forth trying desperately not to spill all over Joel’s gut before he’s allowed to.

Watching Frankie try so hard to keep his composure, teetering on the edge of collapse, turns you on more than you can even describe. Your hips move on their own at this point, or maybe it’s purely Joel rocking you in just the way he knows drives you crazy.

“Talk to ‘er,” he mumbles to Frankie from under your wet heat.

Your eyes blow wide, the growing fire turning to a blaze when Frankie opens his mouth.

“Fuck… g-gonna fucking cum for him too? Oh, shit… wanna… wanna see your face… when you—”

Frankie’s babbling is cut off by your moans as you cum for a second time tonight, thighs quivering and hips bucking on Joel’s face. He licks you through it, controlling the movement of your hips as you lose all control.

“Oh, my god… h-holy shit—” Frankie stops all movement, seconds away from making a mess of himself, Joel, and you sitting in front of him. His eyes bolt shut as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, shaking when Joel eases you off of his face. 

He sits up cupping Frankie’s face in his hands. “Got a little more fight in you?”

Frankie takes a deep breath. “Mhm… yeah, uh huh…”

Joel chuckles low, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Good. Hop off.”

Frankie’s eyes pop open, but he obliges, easing himself off of Joel’s length with a whine at the sudden emptiness.

“Go ‘head and climb up there,” Joel instructs gently as Frankie climbs onto the bed where you lay, still a puddle of overstimulated mess. Joel gently tugs at your ankles pulling you towards the end of the bed, leaning down to kiss you, soft and sweet. 

“Can you gimme one more, angel? Can you stay up for me?”

Your eyes try their best to focus on his face, a hazy blur clouding your vision just a bit as you hum and nod to him. “Uh huh… can stay up…”

“Attagirl… alright, hands and knees, baby.”

You do as you’re told, flipping over and around so your backside faces him at the end of the bed. He stands over your body, hands gliding over the globes of your ass, up your back, stroking every inch of bare skin spread in front of him. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous…” he mumbles, before laying a tap to your ass, causing you to jolt a little and whine at the contact. “Alright Frankie…” Frankie perks up, hanging onto Joel’s every word. “‘M gonna take this pretty hole back here… An’ you take that one up there. Sounds good?”

You clench around nothing. The idea of both of them filling you as much as you can take… Using you for their pleasure…

“Fuck… yeah, good, mhm…” Frankie babbles, shimmying himself to kneel in front of you.

You look up at him, down his body, to his ruddy cock, hard as diamond right in front of you. Your mouth waters at the sight and you motion for him to come a little closer.

Joel grabs his length, lining the head up with your entrance. You stifle a whimper at just the contact of his fat tip pressing into your most sensitive spots. “Ready?” he asks. You both whimper a yes, ready.

They both enter you at the same time, sliding into you wet, wanting holes cautiously first, but easily. So, so easily. The three of you groan in pleasure, them from your warmth and you from the fullness.

Joel sets a pace, fucking in and out of your dripping cunt with ease, quite a feat for the sheer fucking size of him, but you’re so worked up that you practically suck him in and dont dare to let him go. Frankie doesn’t follow Joel’s face, testing the waters of your throat and what it can take.

“She can handle it, boy. If she can take all’a me, she can take all’a you too,” Joel says with a wink.

Neither one of them is small by any means, but Joel was right. He was a bit thicker than Frankie is, and it took a while for your mouth to get used to his size. And while Frankie wasn’t as thick, he might have been just a little longer. It was impossible to tell now, though, they both felt impossibly huge stuffed inside of you, each of them chasing their own highs.

Joel’s pace has already picked up, the warm walls of your pussy crying for him to keep going, don’t stop, right there… the grip on your hips unforgiving as he slams in and drags back out over and over and over…

Frankie keeps rocking into your mouth, a little faster now, and you taste the salty precum leaking onto your tongue and down your throat.

“So fuckin’ hot, angel… stuffed so fuckin’ full…”

“God, you feel good…” Frankie whispers down to you, and you wish you could see his face while you take him to the hilt. Instead, you pull away and spit directly onto the head of his cock before taking him back into your throat completely, using one hand to play with his balls. “Oh, fuck… oh, fuck…”

“Ah ah, boy— unh— not— not ‘til I say,” Joel reminds him.

Frankie takes a few deep breaths, holding your face so delicately, like it could break, trying to ground himself and fucking focus…

“One more, baby, one more right on this cock… an’ then you can too, boy…”

Joel fucks you harder, faster, bruising your cervix with every thrust, the ridges of his cock dragging along every nerve ending in your walls bringing you closer, and closer, and closer—

“Oh, fuck, Joel! Right there! Don’t fucking stop!”

He doesn’t. Not at all. He keeps the same relentless pace, hitting that soft spot deep inside you that he always finds without fail. You flutter around his length, clamping down on him as he reaches around your front to find your clit. He teases your little bundle of nerves, circle after circle after circle, hurdling you closer and closer to release.

“Fuck, tha’s right, baby. Tha’s fuckin’ right.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum, Joel,” Frankie cries, his hips bucking out of rhythm.

“Yeah? Gonna spill down her throat while she’s creamin’ my cock? Go ‘head, both of y’all, at the same time. C’mon—” he grunts, one strong thrust sending you reeling, spasming, damn near collapsing onto the bed as your third orgasm rips through you at an earth-shattering rate.

“Jesus fucking christ—” Frankie groans before his own thighs are trembling, his cock throbbing in your mouth as ropes of cum shoot down your throat, fucking himself in your mouth through his own high, the vibrations from your moans making his body shiver as you drain him empty.

Like dominos falling, Joel is next to go, painting your walls with his spend at the sight of you and Frankie falling apart right in front of him, throbbing in your overstimulated cunt as both ends suck each man dry.

The three of you are a pile of huffing, heaving messes, catching your breaths and dripping sweat onto your sheets. After a minute, Joel slowly slides out of you, his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and dripping onto the sheets. The rest of your body plops down onto the mattress when he lets you go.

Joel steps back and looks at the two of you, sprawled out on the bed in a completely fucked out daze, and chuckles.

“Guess that that was a good enough present for the two’a you, huh?”

You both give a tired, breathy giggle stretching and wiggling around the mattress. You crawl up towards Frankie laying on the pillows and curl into him, and he welcomes you like this is something you’ve always done, with ease, with comfort.

Joel walks into your bathroom and returns with a towel, cleaning you up before climbing next to you, now sandwiched between the two burly men, all three of you basking in post-coital bliss.

“That is… not how I thought the night would end,” Frankie says with a sigh and a chuckle.

You giggle back. “No? Not even a little?” you tease.

Frankie hums a laugh. “So, was this… is this something that you guys… talked about before?”

You turn a little and look at Joel who is just admiring the two of you. His eyebrows raise a bit, an exhale of a laugh leaving his lungs. “Hmm… I mean, It’s come up a few times.”

Frankie turns his head to look at Joel, silently asking for more.

“Started that first time you came over an’ it just… I don’t know, it would come up from time to time. Was never opposed to the idea and… Tonight was the night the pieces fell just right, I s’pose,” he explains, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You can see it haunting Frankie’s lips too, threatening to show just how much he enjoyed this too.

“Think it’s safe to say we all enjoyed it, huh?” you tease again, nudging Frankie and throwing Joel a knowing glance. Frankie turns away, blushing.

The three of you cuddle a little closer, savoring each other’s company, glowing with pleasure as you lay there, falling asleep knowing things might have changed, but for the absolute better.

[g4rvez-r3id]

The Holiday: Part One

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You and a random woman online do a home-exchange for the holidays after a hasty breakup with your boyfriend. You’re enjoying the quaint little cottage you’re currently staying at in D.C. when all of a sudden, a strange man is knocking at your door. The man claims he’s the brother of the woman’s place you’re currently staying at and needs a place to stay for the night since he’s had far too much to drink. One thing leads to another and well… things get complicated from there.

Category: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: meet cute, reader just went through a breakup, mentions of alcohol cosumption, a lil ooc!spencer? post-prison spencer reid, spencer has a sister named caroline for the sake of the plot, spencer is a cheeky little shit, kissing, smut warnings: soft!dom spencer, titty sucking, fingering, cunnilingus, whimpering (spencer reid core), a lil dirty talk, riding, uses of ‘darling’ and ‘angel’, creampie— that should cover it!

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! so i was watching “The Holiday” the other night and it had me thinking: i could see this happening with Spencer Reid hehehe so here’s what my brain conjured up! it’s going to be following the plot of the movie but ofc things are gonna be a bit different! also, happy holidays and merry christmas! i hope y’all do like this hehe <3

It was snowing in D.C.. You’d never actually experienced snow before, considering you actually lived in L.A., where the sun was shining 24/7. It was a big leap from the weather in California, that was for sure.

But you didn’t mind. Mid-December, you expected the weather to be the way it was now, snowing and icy. And you pretty much liked it. You felt more at home out here than you did back in L.A.. And the more you thought about it, what did you really have back at home anyway?

You’d just broken up with your long-time boyfriend, who cheated on you with his assistant. And after verbally admitting to it and fighting with him about it, you’d kicked him out. (As you rightfully should). But after the interaction with him, you’d realized he was right about one thing. That one thing being that you always buried yourself in your work. And it’s not like it was easy not to get out of it, you were a writer, for God’s sake. You loved writing more than anything in the world, more than him. And he had an issue with that.

So, in spite of that, you’d decided that you needed a Christmas vacation. And you’d tried one of those home swap websites to find a place you could temporarily stay in for the holidays. And you’d found one belonging to a Caroline Reid.

You’d talked with her a little bit before deciding to agree to the home swap. You’d discovered she’d had a brother who also lived in D.C. and that he’d possibly pop in every now and again to see how things were going. Something about how he worked for the government and that he’d wanted to be sure that you were who you said you were and not some weird 40 year-old guy who stole underwear. You’d found out he was older and he was very protective of his sister and of course, you understood that. You almost wished you had a brother that was like that, but your apartment was in a gated community and it was pretty open. You’d also had an alarm system, knowing who was coming in and out of your community at all times.

So, you’d agree to the home swap for two weeks. Starting from the 16th of December to the 30th of December. The flight from L.A. to D.C. wasn’t long and you’d found the place alright.

A tiny cottage home that smelt of lavender and sea salt. The fireplace, looking as if it’s been used thoroughly, it’d felt oddly like home. Or at least a home you’d wanted growing up. You’d always been in L.A., never opting to go anywhere but home and this change was seemingly nice compared to your studio apartment in L.A., you suddenly felt bad for Caroline, having to leave such a beautiful home to gather at a studio apartment in L.A..

You’d taken a few days to get used to your surroundings, only leaving the cottage to go to the store and buy your snacks and sparkling cider for the night (since you hated wine). You only planned for night-in, watching whatever TV show was playing for the night. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep watching a re-run of The Nanny, cuddling up in a fetal position with the blanket you’d bought from home.

You were woken with a startle as you heard a banging on the door and you stood up quickly, looking around for anything in the room you could use as a weapon and opted for the giant book on the floor that could easily smack someone in the face and knock them unconscious if need be.

You walked down the stairs of the cottage and heard a voice outside followed by the banging. “Caroline? Caroline! Are you home?” The voice asked and you furrowed your brows and stupidly asked — “Who is it?” You dumbass! You’re not supposed to reveal that you’re home to the intruder! Unless that’s what the intruder wanted, you really need to stop listening to true crime podcasts.

“It’s me! Open the door!” The voice responded and you were beyond confused. “Hurry up! It's freezing.”

You hadn’t recognized the stranger’s voice and yet you continued to shoot yourself in the foot as you had asked again — “Who are you?”

“Caroline, open the door or I swear I'm gonna end up urinating all over your front porch—" You gasp, tossing the book on the couch and without even thinking, you open the door and in front of you is stood a tall man.

His chocolate brown hair pushed out from his neck, his stubble perfectly framed his face and his sharp jawline that looked like it could cut through glass. His perfectly plump, pink lips apart as he looks right at you, his hazel eyes gazing right at you in surprise. And all you can do is stare right back. He was dressed in a long black coat, black slacks and black loafers and a purple scarf around his neck to top it all off. He was kinda dressed as a professor now that you really looked at him, kinda looked like one too, the way he presented himself five seconds standing in the doorway.

And here you were, in patterned pajama bottoms, a white top and a grey cardigan, completely underdressed.

“Oh,” The man spoke. “You're not Caroline.” He turns towards you and crooks a small smile. “Or if you are, I'm much drunker than I realized. I'm so sorry. I-I wasn't expecting you.” His gaze never leaves your eyes as he backs away from the door for a moment.

“Well, I wasn't expecting you, either…” You trail off, not knowing what to call him. She’d probably settle for that attractive guy who used “urinating” instead of “taking a leak” on the front porch.

His eyes widen as he holds his hand out, “Oh, sorry! Uh, I’m… I’m Spencer Reid,” You take his hands going to shake his back. You can’t help but glance down at his hand, the veins on the back of it, making you gulp for a second. “Caroline’s brother.” He stated.

“Oh! Right!” You exclaim, totally forgetting that Caroline had informed you of her brother probably popping in every once in a while. She just didn’t happen to mention that he was hot! “I’m Y/n L/n, your sister informed me you’d be popping in sometimes.”

The man you now know as Spencer snaps his fingers and nods, “Yeah, forgive me, I’ve had a… bit too much to drink so it slipped my mind that she wouldn’t be here. My apologies. But do you mind if I… use the restroom?”

You flinch and back up so he can walk in the house, “Oh, of course! Come on in.” You probably shouldn’t have let him in. He could be a killer for all you know. It was something about him that just seemed… welcoming in a way.

He’d quickly gone into the bathroom downstairs and you’d spent a good minute fixing your hair to your liking so you could present yourself in a way. It wasn’t everyday a cute guy walked into your home (for the week at least), you wanted to at least look a little good.

“So, from what my sister has told me so far, she’s staying in L.A.?” He asks after he exits the bathroom and into the living room, where you find yourself doing anything but looking at him. “Yes, she’s staying at my studio apartment there. She, uh, listed this cottage on a home exchange website and I found it. We switched houses for two weeks for the holiday. So, I’m here and she’s… there.”

Spencer hums, “People actually do that?” You shrug in response, “Apparently.” Spencer looks at you and thinks to himself, “I just… I’m sorry, I told my sister that it could possibly be dangerous for her to do that and yet she’s just too stubborn. She’s like our mother in that way, it seems.” You nod at him, not knowing what to say to that.

There’s a brief silence before Spencer motions towards the couch. “I’m sorry, would you mind if I sat down? I, uh, was out tonight with my colleagues and I… I guess I’m feeling just a bit dizzy.” He tells.

“Oh, of course, go right ahead.” You tell and he plops on the couch and sits up, looking at you. “Also, again, I'm sorry about the intrusion. Although right now, I may not appear it, I am, in fact, Caroline’s respectable older brother. But on the rare — or I guess, lately not so rare — occasion that I frequent the O’Keefe’s and get inordinately drunk, my little sister puts up with me so I don't get behind the wheel.” He explains and you nod in understanding. “It’s a pathetic explanation, but, unfortunately, it's become a bit of a routine, really. I swear, I’m not usually like this but… yeah. Like I said, it slipped my mind that you’d be here instead of you, so… I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

You shake your head, crossing your arms. “Oh, no, you’re all good. I was just, uh, having my own little… girl’s night. I'm, um, not quite myself right now. I-I came here on a stupid whim, really.” Spencer nods at you as the silence fills the air once more.

“Oh, sorry, I’m a terrible host. Would you like something to drink? Glass of water? Tea? Sparkling cider, maybe?” You ask. “Uh, sure.” He nods and you nod back at him, going to the pantry to grab two glasses and fill the cups up with sparkling cider.

You walk back into the living room and hand him his cup, your pointer finger connecting to his for a split moment. “So, Y/n, is it?” He asks and you nod, “Yes, that’s me.”

He mumbled your name under his breath, seemingly like the way he said it. And you did, too. “So, Y/n, I assume you’re not married?” He asks and you furrow your brows — “Why? Do I look not married?” You chuckle awkwardly, wondering where this was going.

“No, it’s just…” He sits up more as he takes a sip of the sparkling cider. “I don’t know if my sister told you but I’m a profiler for the FBI and that means that I study human behavior and one thing I noticed about yours is that you seem to carry yourself pretty well so far. Your body language tensed and you got defensive when I assumed you weren’t married so I assume that’s a factor into your relationships and you don’t trust people often. But you let me in when I could’ve been a total stranger that’s lying to you, so I may be off my A-game here. It may also be the fact that your pupils dilated when you looked at me and you’re curling in on yourself, meaning you may find me attractive.” Your cheeks heat up and your eyes widen at that. Damn, he was good. “And that’s totally okay, I don’t know what you may see in me, but I’m flattered. And you’re also not wearing a wedding ring, but… by the fact that you said you’re not quite yourself at the moment and that you cowered and looked away for a second when you said that, I’m also assuming that you just got out of a relationship. Am I correct?”

You simply blink, completely dumbfounded at his whole “profiler” thing. You can’t help but stare and clear your throat and he can tell you’re uncomfortable with it. He shakes his head and shuts his eyes as if he’s in pain. But mostly he’s cringing because of what he said. “I’m sorry, I… I do this a lot. I just… ramble and ramble and ramble. I’m trying to be better at it, honest.”

You shake your head and shrug, “No, it’s okay.” You look at him. “You’re actually very spot on. Uh, I just broke up with someone. Before I left.” He nods at this. “He… cheated and well, my guard is back up. I came here to maybe… I don’t know, get a change of scenery for once? But now I’m realizing that I actually have no idea what I’m doing and well, I guess I just… feel alone in a way.” You realize you’ve just rambled about yourself and shake your head as he gawks at you and you chuckle it off, “Bet you're glad you knocked on this door.”

Spencer looks up at you, not laughing along with you but instead speaking softly, “I am, actually.” The way he said it made it seem like he actually meant it. You stare at him before looking down at your hands, playing with the loose thread on the ends of your cardigan.

“So,” Spencer spoke again. “Would it be alright if I stay? I'll be gone before you even wake up. I promise you will never lay eyes on me again. It might suck for you now that I think about it, considering you find me attractive.” He told and the heat rushes to your cheeks again.

“Okay, one: I do not find you attractive—” He interrupts you. “Funny how I brought it up before you didn’t deny this.”

“And two,” You continue. “It’s okay if you stay. I actually prefer it now that I know you’re not someone who wants to murder me.” Spencer nods at you, “Technically, you’re more likely to be murdered by someone you know so considering you’re not home at the moment, you’re safe.” He tightens his lips as he looks up at you.

You narrow your eyes at the man and study him, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a strange man?” Spencer thinks about it for a moment, “A lot, actually, yeah.” You purse your lips in a smile and catch yourself gazing at his hands again as he places the glass cup back on the table.

“Uh, let me get you a blanket.” You offer and suddenly you feel like an idiot because you don’t even know where the extra blankets are. And judging by your face, Reid can tell you don’t know where they are either. “Oh, uh, in the cupboard on the left.” He tells and you nod at him, going towards the cupboard you see surely enough on the left and of course, there are blankets inside. He’s probably been there often to know where the blankets are. Of course, he does, he’s Caroline’s hot older brother.

You walk back in the living room and see that he’s standing and he’s holding his hand out to grab the blanket from you. Somehow, you must’ve lost your footing because you ended up tripping over the carpet and into Spencer’s arms. “Here you go— whoa!”

You were lucky that he acted quick, otherwise you would’ve landed on your face but instead you landed on the plush of his chest. “Whoa! You okay?” He asks softly and you look up at him, considering he’s way taller than you. He gazed into your eyes and you his and you could see up closer that his eyes had a little green in them.

The way he held you in his arms for a moment, like you would break if he gripped your arms harder. You weren’t sure if you ever wanted to escape from his grasp. And without even thinking, he leaned closer and pecked your lips. The kiss was soft, simple, like he almost didn’t mean to do it.

Spencer closed his eyes as he winced, realizing that he shouldn’t have done that — but God, you wanted him to do that again. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Uh, good night.”

He begins to slug back to the couch but you grab him by his bicep. He may look a little lanky but his bicep is strong and firm. What you would do to get him to hold you in his arms and just— whoa. Don’t get there, brain.

You suddenly find yourself speaking and chuckling awkwardly as you loosen your grip on his arm a bit. “Do you think you could...” You close your eyes and correct yourself. “Would you mind, um, trying that again?”

Without another word, Spencer tries again and this time, he lingers and the kiss spurs off fireworks in your head. He pulls away and all you want to do is dig your fingers in his messy mane and never let your lips leaves his until it becomes a chore to breathe.

But you frown for a moment and find yourself pondering. What the hell are you doing? Spencer seems to notice this and tilts his head to meet your eyes.

“Bad?” He asks. “Weird.” You correct and chuckle to yourself once more, “Kissing a total stranger.”

“Really?” Spencer asks. “I do it all the time.” You look at him. Of course he’s experienced in this. I mean, look at him!

“Here, let me try.” You take a deep breath and kiss his lips and halfway through the kiss, you realize your eyes are open the entire time. It’s probably because of the fact that you didn’t want to miss a second of it. And honestly, who could blame you?

Spencer backs away after the kiss and you scrunch your eyebrows together as you realize that was kind of an awkward kiss. “Maybe if I closed my eyes.” You say and Spencer nods, “That’d probably be best.”

You do so, close your eyes that is and Spencer looks over your features and decides to try something himself. Carefully, he places his oddly cold hands around your cheeks and leans in, ghosting his lips over yours as he breathes into your face and you feel his lips kiss your cheek and the area near your nose and suddenly, you feel warmth way below as he finally kisses you on the lips.

His cold hands contrasted with your warm cheeks and you feel shaken with pleasure and you look deep into his eyes once you open yours and he already watching you.

“You know, given that I'm in a bit of a personal crisis and I find myself in a total stranger's home and also considering that you showed up and you're, like, insanely good-looking and you probably remember me anyway, I'm thinking… we should have sex.” You offer and his eyes widen at your forwardness.

You’re not usually like this. You’re never this forward and you’d never suggest this to a total stranger but there was something he inhabited that you just found sexy. And you wouldn’t care of the consequences and you didn’t really know him so you didn’t need to date him to secure your needs, you just needed a release from the stress you’d been under the past few days. Dealing with publishers for your newest book, scheduling interviews among interviews, the whole thing that happened with your now ex-boyfriend. This could be good and it’s not like you’re entirely desperate. All you really need is something.

“If-If you want,” You clarify, hoping to God you didn’t just freak this man out into not staying at his sister’s place for the night. “Just say the word, I can go lock myself back up in my room for the night and we can pretend this never happened.”

Spencer chuckles to himself and he looks at you as he quirks an eyebrow upwards, “Is that a trick question?” He asks. But you look at him, dead in the face and he can already tell you’re being serious about this.

“No, I'm being honest. And not that this matters, but I've never said anything like that in my entire life before.” You tell. “It's just that this whole knowing that I'll never see you again thing is kind of exciting. I mean, this is what a vacation's supposed to be, right? You're supposed to vacate your life, do the unexpected, and you are definitely unexpected.”

Spencer smiles a bit as he shakes his head, “You’re making me feel cheap here.” He said and you laugh along with him once you realize he found it funny. You pull a strand of hair behind your ear as you add on, “You're funny, which is also like a bonus. In my book.”

Spencer leans forward, wanting to kiss you once more but you push on his chest a bit as you add, “Are you sure you’re going to be stable enough for this? I know you said you’d had a couple of drinks tonight.” Spencer smiles a bit, admiring your chivalry and not wanting to take advantage of him when all he wants to do is take advantage of you. He also finds it sweet, not wanting to do it when he’s vulnerable but he’d only had two drinks tonight and well, he can be a lightweight sometimes.

“Trust me, angel, I sobered up as soon as I saw you.” He spoke and your heart skipped a beat when you heard him say ‘angel’. Your cheeks are probably heating up again.

You smile and he leans in, kissing you once more. But you push him away once more and start talking once more. “Oh, also, I should warn you.” He looks at you in wonderment. “I’m… I'm not very good at this.”

He furrows his brows as he asks, “This being?” You look at him and blurt out — “Sex.”

Spencer scoffs as he looks at you up and down. “Okay, now that cannot be true. Who told you that?” He asks.

“The guy that I was dating, uh, mentioned it once or twice and a girl does not forget a comment like that.” Spencer leans forward to kiss you again, possibly just to shut you up but it really doesn’t work because you back away and continue, “I mean, how bad could I be? I mean, sex is pretty basic, right?” You look his way and scrunch your nose together, “Have I talked you out of this yet?”

He shakes his head endearingly and gazes at you. He must think you’re a mess, that he couldn’t possibly sleep with you because you were just “too much”. You’d been told that your whole life. But internally, he finds it oddly assuring that he’s not the only rambler here. He actually kind of like it. It’s not something he’s used to from someone else, mostly because he’s always the rambler.

“Strangely, not at all,” Spencer answers and then looks down for a moment. “Let me ask you this,” He licks his lips. “How do you feel about foreplay?”

Your heart stops and suddenly you’re looking anywhere but him now and you shake your head, “Uh…” You don’t really know how to respond to that.

His eyes widen, “Have you… not—?” You shrug, “I have, it’s just…” You pause. “It wasn’t great. The guy I was with… he didn’t like doing it and well, I’ve spared myself from dealing with that because most guys don’t know what the hell they’re doing down there half the time so… I guess I just… haven’t done it.”

Spencer’s lips part and he’s shocked at the discovery. He’s in complete shock of the fact that you’ve never really done it with a guy that knew what he was doing. It was completely baffling to him. Who wouldn’t want to? You were gorgeous and from what he gathered in the short time, you were also amazing. And by the way you made yourself feel small, somebody else did that to you. And his heart broke for you.

“That guy that you were with?” Spencer began. “I think he’s a real loser because a real man would like that.” You find your cheeks heating up again. “Y/n, you are quickly becoming one of the most interesting girls I've ever met.”

You smirk as you finalize your decision and stand up, sultry walking towards the stairs and looking back at him and find that his gaze has gone towards your ass. “Look at you,” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as he narrows his orbs at you. “You're already better than you think.”

With that, he stands, following you to your room and as soon as you close the door, he’s on you. His lips capture yours and you moan as his hand makes its’ way down your stomach and then in between your thighs.

You whimper in his mouth as he sticks his hand in your pajama bottoms and through the waistband of your underwear as he rubs the point where you need him the most. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at my hands earlier.” He says into your neck and your eyes roll to back of your head.

“Spencer…” You moan into the air and his lips are all over your neck as he then picks you up and lays you down gently on the bed, like you were fragile and needed to be handled with care.

His lips travel from your neck to your chest as he opens up your cardigan and reveals your breasts covered by your top. His eyes nearly pop out of his head when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra. He pulls your top down and exposes your boobs — to which he fondles one of them and begins to suck on your nipple. His hand travels farther as he sticks a finger inside your hole as you gasp out — “Oh, my God!”

The stimulation, plus the fact that he’s sucking on your boob right now makes you want to cum. “I want you to cum like this for me, please.” You’d do anything for him so you will your body to give in and to release.

You feel your core throb as you came hard around his fingers and whine as he pulls his fingers out. He sucks on your juice off his slender fingers and you stare at him, like he’s an angel of sorts. He is an angel. And how you wish he could be your angel.

“You okay, sweet girl?” He asks softly and all you can do is nod at him. “We can stop here if you want to.” You shake your head, pulling him by his crooked tie and say — “Oh, darling, we are just getting started.”

With a smile, he kisses you once more and you both begin to take off each other’s clothes. You help him take off his dress shirt and slacks as he helps you out of your cardigan, top and pajama bottoms. Suddenly, you’re both naked in the bed and he turns his gaze down to your dripping pussy.

He looks at you with lust-filled eyes and asks, “May I?” You just nod but that’s not enough for him. “I need words.” You nod again but this time you add a meek — “Yes.”

He smiles as he gazes down. “I’m gonna take good care of you, sweet girl.” You watch as he slowly goes down and his hot breath fans over your pussy lips before he dives in for a kitten lick. You shudder and he quickly notices this with a sly chuckle, “You’re shaking. And I’ve hardly touched you.”

You moan, not wanting him to draw this out any longer than you want him to and he smiles, he could tell you want this. He could tell you need this. And goddamn it, he’s gonna prove to you that you’ve gone too far without this and you’re not going to keep going long without it so long as he could help it.

His mouth wraps around your clit, drawing figure-8s with your tongue and suck as he does so. You find yourself gripping the sheets hard as he continues to go down on you. “Fuck,” You deliciously mutters into your pussy. “You’re so sweet,” He drawls. “Your ex is a fucking loser if he thinks that this is a waste of time because darling, you are exquisite.”

You feel every moan into your pussy he’s making as you look down at the sight and your eyes connect to his and all of a sudden, you’re cumming once more. You shake in his hold as you close your eyes in pleasure as he stays in your sweet nectar until you’re done.

He looks up at you, as if he’s mesmerized by the sight itself of you releasing. You look back down at him and see his eyes, still blown with lust and reach down to run your fingers through his hair. By the doozy look in your eyes, he can tell you really enjoyed that. “Did I do okay?” He asks with a small smile and you chuckle as you look towards the ceiling. “That was…” You take a sharp breath. “Wow.”

Spencer laughs a bit as he climbs up your body and leans over you. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” And that’s when you turn your body around so that you’re over him now. “Oh, trust me. There is.”

You maintain eye contact with Spencer pump a few strokes on his cock before settling his head towards your entrance. “And you’re still okay with this?” You ask, a whiny tone sheltering your voice and Spencer swears he might cum on the spot just with you doing that. “Oh, I’m very okay with it.”

“Yeah?” You look down but only for a moment to guide himself into you and you rest your hands on his shoulders as you sink down into him. He throws his head back in pleasure as you finally feel all of him and you feel so full.

His cock throbs in your wet pussy and he gasps out — “Oh, you feel so fucking… perfect, angel.” You bite your lip to hold back your moans as you begin to move yourself up and down on him, rocking your hips to you liking and his hands rest on your thighs, gripping them tightly, holding you up against him.

“How do you feel, angel?”

“So f-full.”

“That ex-boyfriend wouldn’t know what to do with a perfect pussy like yours.”

His forwardness made your eyes roll to the back of your head as he began to thrust hard into you with his cock.

“Where do you want it, angel?” He grunts and you know that it’d be too intimate, to have him mark you, claim your body, paint your insides with his cum but you’d been so far gone, you basically begged him to cum — “In-Inside.”

“Oh, you want it inside?” Spencer asks and you nod, biting your lip hard. “You want me to breed you? To claim you? Because I will.” His words send you over the edge as you work yourself on his cock even harder. “Cum for me, darling. Please.” A whine escapes his lips and you finally feel a coil snap inside of you as you cum for the third time tonight on his cock.

You feel a warmth inside as he paints your insides and you collapse again his body as you both pant. He feels your hot breath on his neck as he holds you close to him, his hand sprawled out on your back as he rubs your flesh, as if he’s somehow calming you down from your high.

Your eyes are closed but you feel as Spencer carefully pulls out of you (and he watches as his cum drips from your pussy and he’s mesmerized by the sight of it) and sets you down next to him, holding you to his chest and keeping you there. You feel his heart rate beginning to slow as you rest your head on his chest.

“Wow,” You start. “That was…” You take a deep breath. “Exciting.”

Spencer looks down at you and he furrows his brows, “I gave you three orgasms and that was just… exciting?” You can hear the smirk in his voice and you look up at him, “Okay, it was…” You ponder on a word. “Spectacular… hot… sexy.”

“Spec-hot-exy,” You form a word. “Is that good enough for you?” He shakes his head at you as he chuckles. “Are you okay?” He asks and you nod, “Yeah, I’m perfect.”

“Okay,” He says, sitting up. “Don’t get too comfortable because you do need to pee and we do need to clean you up. I just had sex in my sister’s bed and I know she’s gonna kill me for it.” He helps you up, steadying you as he walks you towards the bathroom and cleans you up.

And as he does so, you stare. And you just keep staring because even though this was a one-night thing, you can’t help but wonder what it may be like to actually be with him. Would he still be this gentle? Would he still be this caring? Because this would be enough to make a girl fall in love. And if Cupid heard your thoughts, he’d shoot another arrow just to make you even more head over heels than you are now. But you shouldn’t be thinking what you’re thinking, not at all. You just broke up with someone for Christ’s sake. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun while you were still in D.C..

After the holidays, you could go about your life, forgetting who this man was and just remembering him as the guy that just appeared at your doorstep and wowed you into sleeping with him. You were never gonna see him again, why not have a little fun while you were here?

You weren’t sure if this would end with anyone getting hurt, but all you knew is that you’d take advantage of the time you’d have, here and now.

[your-hockey-mom]

Christmas with Quinny?

"Hey! No peeking!"

"I...wasn't!" Quinn smirked, putting his hands behind his back after getting caught looking into the gift bags sitting on the coffee table. He had been getting antsy about opening gifts with you since he had gotten up. Sometimes he could be a big kid and during the holidays it was so much worse. Good thing he was cute, you always teased.

"You were, too!" You laughed, approaching him, two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in your hands. "Go ahead and open it, if you want! I'm ready."

Quinn would let you take a seat beside him before handing you a small box he had hidden beneath a blanket next to him. As soon as you saw the colour of the box you knew where it had come from. That trademark blue could only mean one thing: Tiffany's!

"Quinn, you didn't!" You didn't know what else to say!

"I may have. I hope it's okay."

Taking the box, you give Quinn a kiss as thanks before seeing just what was inside. "I'm sure you really outdid yourself! I didn't need anything like this!"

"Sure you did," he replied, taking a careful sip of the hot chocolate.

Inside, was a gold ring in a cursive script that read "love". It was dainty, classic, and so very touching. When had he had the time to get you such a gift, you had no idea but words could not express how much it meant to you.

"I love this so much!" You choked out, putting it on your middle finger. "Quinny, thank you so much!"

"You're welcome. I just wanted to get you something you could enjoy everyday." He was smiling like a kid whose mother had put his best artwork on the fridge. Things like jewelry wasn't his forte in buying, and he couldn't lie: he had help from the girls at Tiffany's in picking it out. His mom had actually suggested the famous jeweler when Quinn had confessed he didn't know what to get you. He had picked out some little things like a book or two, but in terms of the big, memorable, post-on-Instagram sort of gift, that's where he had struggled.

"Oh, I'll absolutely wear this everyday! I've never gotten anything from Tiffany's before!"

"Well, I'm glad I was able to get you something new." Quinn scooted closer, pulling your face to his. "Maybe I'll make a tradition of it?"

The kiss was long and passionate. Such a romantic Quinn had turned out to be and you loved being the center of his ever affection. His hands held you tightly, not letting you leave his side until he was for certain that he had expressed just how much he loved you. The ring truly had meaning.

"I have something for you, but not as nice as this, lemme go get it!"

Quinn slowly withdrew his hands, his fingertips trailing against your body as you got up. "If you have you."

"There's no need to pout! I'll be right back!" You headed to the hall closet where way in the back were two wrapped hockey sticks hidden as far back as you could get them. The had been a custom order to the specs of his on-ice sticks, but these had the Canucks colorway elements and a little message engraved where normally his name would go. You didn't care if he used them even once, but what hockey player couldn't use more sticks?

"How did you wrap those?" Quinn asked, arms outstretched to take them from you. "That's impressive!"

"Well, I think I used a whole roll of paper because it was not going well!"

Carefully, Quinn unwrapped the dual-packaged gift and smiled. It was like he had ordered them himself. Now, you had had some help; making a couple phone calls to teammates to snap a picture of his stick specs so you could get them just right. They had to be perfect!

"'Nobody puts my baby in the box!' You're too cute! Thanks, sweetheart." You had thought a long time about what you wanted to have put on the stick shaft. What better than what you always yelled when Quinn was sent to the "pretty boy box" as you affectionately called the penalty box.

"I thought it was pretty fitting," you giggled, excited that he hadn't found the message too cringe.

"They're perfect! Thanks, babe." His smile was so sweet, and his eyes sparkled within the twinkling of the Christmas tree. "I love you."

"I love you, too!" You pulled yourself into his lap. "Should we open the other stuff?"

"Later, right now I just want to enjoy you." Quinn buried his face in your neck as you laughed against the feeling of his facial hair against your skin. An hour would pass before you left the sofa, or maybe it was two... 

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 7 - Well This Is Awkward

CW: Angst, mention's of alcohol, mentions of panic attack's, mental health, mentions of injuries, mentions of death.

Did I mention I like medical dramas?

Previous parts - masterlist - next

Your therapist is nice. You’ve been going to her for the past 3 months, you were only supposed to go for a single session. Then the army insisted on more. Johnny was sent home on medical leave a few days after you left. He came to see you and stayed the night. 

The next morning you had to tell him to leave, it just wasn’t the same. 

‘I’ll be staying at the house if you want to visit?’ 

Shit, you forgot about the house. The place you all pitched in to buy, so you all had somewhere to stay when you were on leave. Everyone’s flats are too small to accommodate all 5 of you. Besides, flat hopping everyday across London was expensive. 

‘I’ll talk to John when he’s back.’ All you want back is the deposit. 

“Do you feel guilty?” She asks you. It snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn to look at her. 

“No.” You say, she hums. You hate it when she does that. You don’t know why it is a particularly tough session. You just want to go home. “They hurt me. I don't feel guilty about that.” 

“You left the unit though.” Bitch. “It’s okay to feel guilty about that.” 

“Okay fine. I feel guilty about leaving Johnny and Kyle.” You snap back. Anything to get her to sign you off so you can go. You look up at the clock, you still have at least 40 minutes left in this season. 

“Have you got your letter from the university yet?” She asks changing the subject. You nod. After a few weeks of crying on the bathroom floor and drowning yourself in bottles of vodka you decided to get your shit together. 

“That’s good, what's the plan going forward?” 

“I’ll be posted on a base somewhere where I can get hands-on experience in trauma care. With studying on the side.” You say without going too much into the complications. 

“So the army is actively helping you, that's good.”  

“Yeah I think they’re willing to do anything so long as I don’t sue them.” You scoff under your breath. She hums.

You don’t know how true that is, maybe it’s just something you tell yourself so you don’t feel so conflicted over how accommodating they’ve been. They’re paying your uni bills and even got you one some army teaching program aimed to fast track you through the ranks. 

“What about Kyle and Johnny? Have you heard from them since you spoke to them last?” Fucking bitch. You sigh, turning away from her. The last time you spoke to them was almost a month ago. They text you from time to time, try to call you. 

You’ve ignored them, so much that you feel like anything you say to them will just be meaningless. 

“Yeah, they’re deployed.” You lie. She smiles. You look back up at the clock. 

30 minutes to go.

______________________

Iraq is hot. That you expected but the hospital’s electricity is sketchy at best. You have to keep the air-con off to make sure the ventilators don’t cut out. The US built this place, you’re only supposed to be here for another week at least before you’ll move again. 

As soon as the electric is fixed it will be handed over to the UN to run, until then it was getting a dry run as a combat hospital. Lots of blown off limbs and bullets to pull out people. Lots of death. 

You told Johnny and Kyle where you were going when you got your placement. You’re trying to patch things up with them after basically leaving them on read for almost 3 months. Your therapist said it would be a good thing to do. 

The sun is setting, you're sitting outside watching as it touches the top of the distant mountains. The place is busy, friendly forces are still pretty much living here. It’s the only safe zone in this part of the desert, why the UN wanted a hospital out here you’ll never know. 

Something about re-urbanisation of previously controlled territories. You don’t care, you're here to pull bullets out of people and save lives. Other than your mentor-Dr. Sands-you’re the only other doctor on the base. Doctor is a loose term, you’re technically still a student, but you ace all your skills labs, and the army is begging for help apparently. 

You let out a breath, finishing the rest of your drink and getting up and pulling your white lab coat on. 

“Well, fancy seeing you ‘ere.” You hear a familiar thick accent behind you. You turn to see Johnny standing behind you. 

What the fuck.

You’re hugging him before you can stop yourself. You see Kyle, John and Simon stood behind him. They’re all geared up, weapons slung over their chest or back. 

You thought you would feel something when you saw them. Maybe you'd want to run, scream, cry, anything. You feel nothing, just numbness.

“What are you doing here?” You ask.

“Oh you know, Shepherd says jump, we say how high.” he says nudging you, it makes you smile and you shake your head. 

“Finally going for the MD?” He asks, pointing at the student doctor tag on your coat. 

“Yeah well, you like putting bullets in people. I like pulling them out.” 

“Oh yeah not even the occasional love tap?” He jokes, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“Only the bad guys.” You reply. You look up at Kyle who’s smiling. Then John and Simon. 

“You look good.” John says. 

“Yeah well that’s what 6 months of therapy will do to you.” It’s bitter, harsher than you expected it to be. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him in 6 maybe 7 months. He hasn’t changed a bit. He still smiles at you, his body language open, his hands on his hips. 

Simon stands with his arms crossed, his presence is looming, making hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

“It’s good to see you again.” Kyle says, you nod at him. 

“Oh when we’re back we should catch a bite to eat.” Johnny says enthusiastically, moving away over to Kyle. 

“You can tell us what to avoid in the mess.” Kyle adds. You smile again. You go to open your mouth but your pager beeps. You look down at it. It’s the doctor. 

“Yeah, when you’re back, come find me.” You say turning into the building. 

“Stay safe!” Johnny calls.

“Yeah you too!” You call back pulling your radio off your hip. When you make it through the door you squeeze your eyes closed for a second and let out a long breath. 

Now you hate this hospital even more. 

______________________

It’s dark out now. You look over at the clock and it's almost midnight. You’re sat at the nurses station listening to them talk about whatever drama is going on in the next base. You still can’t believe you ended up in the same base as 141. 

They’ll be gone soon, even Johnny seemed surprised, maybe he thought you’d be gone by now. Now you have to eat with them at some point. Johnny and Kyle at least.

The doctor left an hour ago to go to another base for a surgery. You’re used to this taking the night shifts. Normally you just sleep and get woken up a few times for the nurses to ask for medication changes. You’ve only ever had one trauma come in at night and the doctor was there to help you with the limited night time staff. 

You tried to sleep but you couldn’t, you were restless trying to think about what they were doing here? Who were they after? How long would they be here? At least at the nurses station you can listen to the nurses and let their gossip distract you. 

The red trauma phone rings. For a second you think it’s a joke, it’s the normal phone. Nope, the red light is flashing on it. You stand up picking it up. 

“Trauma.” You say.

“Got one incoming, ETA 15 minutes. GSW to the chest, breathing unconscious. 30 year old male.” You hear an American voice say as you write it down. You don’t have time to worry or be nervous. This is what you live for, you let the adrenaline pump through you. It clears your mind as you take down the information. 

“Copy, what’s the name?” 

“Riley.” Your heart stops.

“Say again?”

“Riley, Simon Riley.”  

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. You’re squeezing the phone in your hand, the pen has fallen to the floor. You look over at the nurses already pulling gowns on and getting into position in the resus bay. 

You don’t even register saying copy and putting the phone back. You turn away from the nurses braising yourself on a filing cabernet. 

Simon’s shot. All you can see is his face, his body covered in blood. He’s always so careful, he’s always the one dragging people out the field not getting shot. Something must have gone horribly wrong. 

You weren't there. He’s shot and you weren't there to save him. 

You suck in breaths of air, the adrenaline isn’t helping now. 

“Doctor?” You hear one of the nurses call. You turn to look at them, you have to keep it together. 

“Page the doctor.”

next

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[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale loves Crowley but...

(A clickbait title? Me? Possibly)

There's this thought rattling in my brain for a good while and I have to try to get it out.

So most of the fandom seems to operate under the impression that Crowley loves Aziraphale unreservedly (since Eden) and that he is waiting for the angel to catch up with him.

This is evident across metas here, and many posts and comments elsewhere. Even fics (if I'm permitted to say that) keep dancing around the idea that Crowley never knows where he stands. It's not that obvious how Aziraphale feels about Crowley (especially to Crowley). Because Aziraphale is forever denying their connection (as if he didn’t have good enough reason) and/or also that Crowley, who is always open about his feelings, is waiting for Aziraphale to finally admit at some point (sooner than later please) how he feels so they can be together (...I'm not going there today...).

But I did have discussions with people from other countries and cultures. Notably @sayuri-of-the-valley who told me that most people in their country would assume Aziraphale is the smitten one and it's not so obvious how Crowley feels (he might be just toying with the angel?).

So I've been thinking about how Aziraphale feels from what we see.

In Before the Beginning, which is their first encounter, Aziraphale is immediately taken by the sweet, pretty, enthusiastic angel who seems completely oblivious to Aziraphale's hopes to be noticed.

We do not know if they meet again as angels or how long after their meeting the Great War happens. I would think this is not their only encounter. But it could be. I think they became friends and at some later point Angel!Crowley asked Aziraphale to join in the rebellion (or at least come with him to hang out with the guys and find out what it's about). But forever cautious Aziraphale warned him that it's not a good idea and refused and ... Crowley Fell.

Next time they see each other is in Eden.

They seem to recognise each other and Crawley is clearly pretty happy to see Aziraphale who does not introduce himself but Aziraphale gently prompts the demon to introduce himself.

Aziraphale seems a little unsure how they stand at first ... ...and I think it's because of what has transpired before the Fall (is Aziraphale forgiven?). But as Crawley gently teases him about the recently passed events, Aziraphale is assured and trusts Crawley as if nothing much changed between them and he readily admits he's given away his sword to the demon. (The truth of which he does not disclose to God Herself.)

Their relationship progresses as far as it can in the circumstances over the next centuries and millennia, they both care and look after each other. Until the next big heart-breaking 'break-up' happens. An impossible ask.

You can see how this request basically pierces Aziraphale's heart. He would prefer they don't see each other again than give in to such extraordinarily dangerous request. Out of the question! This would mean the end of existence for Crowley. He would not just be discorporated, not 'just' taken away. He'd be gone.

If they truly don't see each other for almost 80 years, this must have hurt so so deeply.

Next they see each other then, it's 1941. I know some people HC that Crowley slept until then but I think it's very unlikely. He seems to know what is happening with WWII, and besides, he has his car, which he says he has from new and you wouldn't buy a 1926 Bentley new in 1940.

So back to the husbands. Aziraphale might very well think he will never be forgiven for his resolute refusal of handing Crowley the one thing that can so easily simply wipe him from existence.

When Crowley shows up in the church, Aziraphale yet again is not sure where he stands. Is he forgiven? What is Crowley coming to do? (No, I don't think Aziraphale thought Crowley was coming with revenge or anything similar, I assume it's as he says, as Aziraphale assumes he's there because of his job, to do something for Hell). But Crowley assures him that is not the case and they fall into their usual bickering.

And all is well. Aziraphale breathes out and THEN Crowley remembers to save his books.

And Aziraphale knows he's forgiven.

When 1967 comes around and he hears about Crowley's frankly insane decision to get some humans to source holy water for him, the angel breaks his own heart and hands Crowley a double walled, securely closed vessel with the dangerous substance just because it's the safer option.

The next break up is...

After that they 'see' each other when Aziraphale's (soul? essence?) discorporated self finds Crowley drinking in the pub.

Crowley tells Aziraphale he lost his best friend... What is Aziraphale thinking?

Yet again, I suppose he's unsure where he stands. He did after all made a decision to do something Crowley disagreed with. And Crowley left. Twice. Aziraphale didn't want to run. He was going to try and find a way to save the Earth even if it meant to try and talk to God and whatever consequences would follow from that.

But Crowley is so gentle with him as he tells him his home burned down. He even has the one book Aziraphale really needed, somehow saved. So Aziraphale asks for help. They can do this.

And they do.

So we see Aziraphale through aeons, looking up to Crowley, admiring his wit, integrity, being exasperated with him, trying to keep him safe - from unreasonable requests just as much as from rash decisions and words that can have severe consequences. Aziraphale is an angel who is unlike any other. He finds himself, long before the rebellion of half the Host is a thing, in knowledge that some things should not be mentioned or suggested or criticised and he tries to stop this lovely angel he just met from getting into trouble.

Which he keeps doing for millions of years...

However. It doesn't always work. The angel Falls. He is hurt and abandoned by the God who made him and deemed unforgivable. He is threatened and punished when he just wants to be himself and Aziraphale sees all of this and loves him and tries to keep him safe and he is not always succeeding, having to make more and more difficult decisions.

And Aziraphale doubts himself. Is he good enough. Is something wrong with him. We see how anxious he gets all the time. What is he doing wrong. They were never allowed to speak to each other about how they feel. For the longest time they didn’t even know how to name their feelings I’m sure. They didn’t make any promises.

They both hope, yes but where I see people HC that Crowley doubts an angel would unconditionally love a demon (maybe he does, but I don’t really see it - I think Crowley knows all that talk of fiends is just a cover), I also see that Aziraphale thinks he’s not good enough. That he can’t give enough and that it’s a problem (it is to some fans but if he’s ever holding back - ‘you go too fast for me Crowley’, it’s only ever to keep the demon safe).

But yes, I think Crowley thinks the chasm that can’t be overcome between them is the angel/demon one. Because She made him unforgivable. And Aziraphale thinks that their world would never allow them to be together (and he’s right) and he simply can’t agree to trying when it’s doomed to failure. If they run, how long would they have together? What kind of freedom would they have as hunted outcasts? So he keeps making these difficult decisions. And feeling so guilty for them.

The hardest of which we meet at the end of Season Two.

Aziraphale meets the Second in Command of the ruler of their world who 'invites' him to run Heaven. After Aziraphale refuses several times, we see him enter his home and tell Crowley that he got an offer and ask Crowley to come with him.

And Crowley. Says no.

And all the subsequent metas focus on how Crowley was betrayed by Aziraphale's 'decision', how Aziraphale does not deserve to be loved or wanted or be forgiven by the demon.

And how does Aziraphale feel?

Does Aziraphale still think he can be forgiven?

[woniiez]

𝙏𝙄𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 S.mg

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. song mingi x fem!reader

𝗦𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/teaser. You always thought of Mingi as nothing more than the spoiled son of a wealthy CEO. He was the kind of guy you’d hear about in the tabloids, always caught in the middle of some scandal, some drunken night out, or some rumored fling with the next “it” girl. His last name alone commanded respect, but it also made him untouchable in your eyes. He was everything you despised about people with too much money—arrogant, entitled, and far too used to getting whatever he wanted.

For you, the Song family was just another name tied to wealth and power. Your own father was a successful businessman, a man who’d built an empire from the ground up. But there was a difference between your family and his, your family had always struggled to maintain what they had, keeping the balance between status and reality. The Songs, on the other hand, seemed to live in a world that operated on a completely different set of rules—one that never knew struggle.

It wasn’t that you hated Mingi, per se. You just couldn’t stand the way he moved through life with no real sense of accountability. His arrogance was like a cloud surrounding him, blocking out everything. Every time he spoke, you could feel the cockiness in his tone, the way he knew his words would hold weight because of who he was. It made you want to roll your eyes.

And yet, in some strange part of you, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you sometimes. It wasnt anything serious, but in those moments, you saw the softness beneath his ego and arrogance the vulnerability he hid behind the confidence. You could see it when you both stood in the same room, but neither of you ever addressed it. Instead, whenever you were forced to interact it would be like a cat fight.

It was easy, then, to pretend he didn’t matter when your families were never really close. You had different friend groups, different circles. And when you had to endure forced family gatherings, he’d always disappear into the background, a silent figure in the corner, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

But that all changed the day your father came home with a grim look on his face, news that would change your life forever.

Your father sat you down, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. His hands were clenched around the glass of water in front of him, his eyes looked tired, worn down. You’d never seen him like this before. Your father was always in control, always the one with the answers. But today, his voice was weaker than usual as he spoke, and you realized, something was seriously wrong.

“Sweetheart,” he began, his tone soft but firm, “the company… it’s in trouble.”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t need to hear more. You knew what this meant. Your father’s empire,the business that had been the backbone of your family for years, was facing bankruptcy. But you would never expect the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Your mother and I have spoken to Mr. Song,” he continued. “We’ve come to an agreement.”

“What agreement?”

The words that he forced out sounded like they were being pulled from deep inside your father, something he was going to hate saying, but knew he had no choice. “You’re going to marry Mingi.”

|| 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁. series

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲. arranged marriage!

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. will be updated for every chapter.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩. (Open! Comment below if you wanna be added) @minkioswoo @yunhogrippers @hee-yunie

(hii I’m back. This took me really long to plan and then write, I’m not sure why I decided to make a series since I started writing just this year but I really love reading the series other people write and post and I haven’t read something with this genre (series) on mingi so I just started writing and saw it going somewhere so ig that’s how it came to be. I did take help from a few friends to improve the writing since I don’t have an extensive vocabulary so it’s better to read. Also i just wanna say that this is a 100x better than my first fic cause this took forever to write with making sure the paragraph formation was put together, vocab, and planning out the whole story line to make sure the first chapter would flow well with the others. I really hope you like this!)

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭.𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲

[logictoinsanity]

some Logan's birthday rambling inspired by @eliemo and I's discussions and also his Logan's birthday post

Thinking about Logan getting really nervous leading up to his birthday, for alot of reasons but mostly because he's worried Wades gonna throw him a surprise party

Not for no reason, Wades thrown three surprise parties in the time since Logan came to this universe, plus Logan saw him updating his party playlist, and Wade keeps coming home with bags that he insists Logan doesn't look at.

It's not like Logan doesn't appreciate the thought- it's been decades since anyone's even thought about his birthday, much less wanted to celebrate it -he knows it's Wade's way of showing he cares, but Logan's never been a fan of parties, and definitely not surprise parties. He's never had one, but he doesn't like surprises generally so it's not a hard leap to make.

His birthday arrives, he's incredibly on edge as Wade drags him out of the apartment very instantly. Logan tells himself it'll be fine, he can handle anything, of course he can force a smile through a surprise party, he's the fucking wolverine. He doesn't really believe it, but he has to try.

Wade drags him around the city for a bit before finally deciding they can go back home, Logan's bracing himself, ready for the onslaught of people and smells and loud music and bright decorations.

They get home, walk up the stairs and open the door

Revealing their living room, exactly as they left it, with the addition of Laura and Al on the couch, and on the table, three wrapped presents, two takeout bags from his favorite restaurant, and what looks like a very expensive bottle of whiskey.

Logan stares for longer than is probably necessary before turning to Wade.

"No surprise party??" He asks, trying and failing to keep the relief out of his voice.

Wade raises what once was an eyebrow, looking at Logan like he's insane.

"Peanut, why on earth would I throw you a surprise party? You hate parties! and surprises! I figured you'd rather just have Laura over, eat an absurd amount of meat," He pauses for an exaggerated wink, "drink some fancy ass whiskey and pass out on the couch. We did get you presents though, can't stop us from that"

Logan stares at him a little longer. It had been a long time since anyone wanted to celebrate his birthday, but it had been even longer since anyone had bothered to pay attention to his likes and dislikes to nearly the extent Wade did; Logan wasn't exactly an open book, but Wade didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah. Yeah that sounds better"

[seungkw1]

safe haven — ljh

♡ pairing: neighbor!jihoon x fem!reader ♡ theme: fluff, hurt/comfort ♡ wc: 3.9k ♡ warnings: post-breakup dynamics, cheating (from ex), swearing, mentions of food ♡ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! give all these talented writers some love <3 and big thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!!

As if your fiancé leaving you for another woman wasn’t enough to make this the shittiest week of your life, now you’ve managed to lock yourself out of your house during an incoming blizzard. At least your next-door neighbor is home, and he’s kind enough to offer you shelter from the storm. You barely know Jihoon, only having spoken to him a few times - but soon, you discover you have more in common than you initially thought.

Five days ago, you made the innocent mistake of picking up your fiancé’s phone when you thought it was yours. You noticed immediately when you saw the lock screen - it was a photo of you and him from last December, posed in front of a Christmas tree, taken minutes after he proposed. In it, you’re smiling ear to ear, enthusiastically showing off the beautiful engagement ring he bought you. The photo has been his wallpaper ever since. “You look so happy,” he told you a couple months ago. “I can’t bring myself to change it.”

You go to set the phone back down, but a notification catches your eye. You take a closer look, discovering a string of WhatsApp messages, all from somebody named Kelsey. 

Huh, that’s weird, you think to yourself. I didn’t know he even used WhatsApp. 

Normally, you’d think nothing of it - but something feels off. You hesitate for a moment. You know each other’s passcodes for the sake of convenience; you’ve never felt the need to go through his phone, and you feel bad about even thinking about doing it. But, your gut is telling you to investigate.

You input the password and open the message thread. You’re not quite sure what you’re even looking for, but two seconds of scrolling tells you all you need to know. Dumbfounded, you read the particular message three more times before it sinks in: 

Can’t wait for our vacation next week baby, I really need to get away from all of this right now. 

Your stomach lurches as if you’ve just been punched in the gut. He told you he was going on a business trip next week. He told you that months ago. 

Get away from ‘all of this’? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Does he mean… me???

Blood rushes through your ears as you read through the never-ending series of sexts, nudes, notes more romantic than anything he’s ever said to you before, an entire paper trail of all the times and locations of the evident affair - until you feel like you’re going to be sick. 

No, it’s not real. It can’t be. There’s no way…

Paralyzed, you stand there in disbelief, but as several more minutes of scrolling pass, it becomes clear that this is actually happening. Tears start to well in your eyes, but you quickly bottle it up, converting the energy into anger instead. You take the phone and march into his office to confront him - ready to shut him down when he tries to deny it. 

But, he doesn’t even try to deny it. He doesn’t even care.

“Well, it’s about time you found out anyway,” he tells you nonchalantly.

“Our wedding is in three months!! How fucking long were you going to wait to tell me??”

“I was gonna tell you soon, I just needed it to be the right time.”

“The right time??!! When is there a right time to dump your fiancé???”

“Listen, y/n-”

“Don’t tell me to fucking listen!!” you raise your voice at him. “In fact, don’t say anything else. Get the fuck out of my house.”

“You can’t tell me to get out, this is my house too,” he replies, with the sheer audacity to have a tone of annoyance in his voice.

“It’s MY name on the fucking papers. Get. Out.”

And so, he left. Didn’t even give you his set of keys back. Didn’t even say goodbye.

Now, you sit here parked in your driveway, the howling of harsh winter winds whistling over the melancholy tune playing loudly from the car radio. The volume is cranked all the way up, but despite your best efforts to drown out the outside world, the sharp whooshing sounds persist. Looks like the incoming storm is going to be as bad as predicted - if not worse. The blustering begins to jostle the whole vehicle. You stare aimlessly out the front windshield, watching chunks of snow flying erratically through the air as the winds pick up further. With a sigh, you turn the ignition off, the engine and radio going silent. If you're going to sit around moping, might as well do it inside where it's warm. You reach for the garage door remote clipped on the visor above you, but your hand only hits the soft padding. Right, you think to yourself, still gotta get that one replaced too. 

You drag yourself out of your car, hastily throwing your coat on and stumbling through the wind toward your front door. Flipping through your keys, something feels off. You look down, assuming your frozen fingers are just too stiff to pick out the correct one. You stare at the collection for several seconds, but your house key is not there. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself in confusion. Then, a horrible realization sets in: you never put your new key on the keyring after getting your locks changed. 

You brace yourself against the wind, trudging through the pile of snow accumulating in your front yard. As you reach the window, you lean over the bushes, peering through the partially-shut blinds into your kitchen to see a set of gold keys, sitting upon the center of the countertop. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Your stupid ex-fiancé isn’t even around anymore and he’s still finding new ways to make your life miserable. If he had just returned your damn keys, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

Tears start welling in your eyes - and this time, you surrender. The droplets begin to freeze on your face almost instantly, but you let yourself cry. After several minutes, you’re feeling slightly better - but you’re getting quite cold. You decide to head back to your car, at least turn the heat on while you try and figure out what to do, no need to stand here and get frostbite-

“Um, excuse me…”

You jump at the sound of the voice coming from behind you, whipping your head around to see a very bundled up man. You can’t see much of his face, but he looks to be in his late-twenties, with dark hair peeking out from under a thick beanie. It takes you a moment, but you realize it’s your next-door neighbor, Jihoon, whom you've met approximately once.

“I just wanted to check if you were okay,” he says loudly, doing his best to speak over the noisy wind. “You’ve been standing out here for a while.”

“Oh,” you reply, also speaking up. You wipe the tears off your cheeks with the back of your gloves. “Um, I’m kind of locked out of my house.”

“Is the lock frozen?”

“No- well actually, I don’t know, it might be, but I don’t have my key,” you explain, gesturing through the window. “It’s in there.”

“How did you manage to do that?” he inquires, not being condescending, but genuinely asking.

“The front door locks behind you when you leave.” 

“Ohhh. Well that’s no good.” He pauses for a moment, looking at you curiously, before continuing.

“Um, well I know you don't know me very well, but if you need a place to wait while you call somebody you are welcome to come in,” he tilts his head toward his house. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but it’s really dangerous to be out in this storm.”

Normally, you’d be standoffish to a man you barely know inviting you into his house - but, something about him tells you you can trust him. He looks and sounds sincere, and you really don’t have anywhere else to go. Plus, you’re fucking freezing. You nod at him.

“I would really appreciate that,” you shout over the wind. He nods back, gesturing for you to follow along. He walks with you to his front door, the both of you taking large steps to trek through the several inches of snow that has already accumulated. He turns the knob and ushers you inside, following quickly and shutting the door behind him. 

The sounds of the howling wind abruptly stop, the door creating a barricade between you and the heavy winter storm. Your ears ring slightly, but as you adjust to the quietness of indoors you pick up on a familiar tune playing from the other room. 

“Is that En Bateau I hear?” you ask as you unlace your boots. 

He’s in the middle of unwrapping his scarf from around his head, but he perks up at your question. “Yeah! You know Petite Suite?” 

“It’s one of my favorites,” you reply warmly as you take off your coat. You try to avoid letting the jacket’s heavy dusting of snow fall to the floor, without success. 

“Dammit, I got your floor all wet,” you inform him with a sigh. You realize you’re shivering - the house is warm, comfortably so, but standing out in the cold for however long you were out there certainly chilled you to your bones. He takes your coat from your hands, shaking off the rest of the snow before putting it on a hanger for you.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he tells you, grabbing a neatly folded towel from the closet and mopping up the mess. “There’s some blankets on the couch, you should warm yourself up.” 

The prospect of a nice cozy blanket sends you speedwalking into the living room. You spot the stack of blankets, also neatly folded, and grab the thickest one you see - it’s plush and velvety, dark red in color, and gigantic. You wrap the soft fleece around your whole body, plopping cross-legged onto the couch, practically turning yourself into a cocoon. Immediately you start to warm up, your poor frozen extremities finally relieved of the painful cold. As you defrost, your brain begins to work again, processing your surroundings. Though you’ve never been inside, your neighbor’s abode feels very homely - the decor is largely cream-colored, accented with warm earth tones, doused in low lighting sourced from a few lamps placed strategically around the room. Though a plain, warm white, the walls are flourished tastefully with various unique artworks - nothing you recognize, but all very pleasing to the eye. Not that your ex was a slob, but you’ve never known a man to be so neat and tasteful. Refreshing, you think to yourself.

You hear soft footsteps from behind you as Jihoon enters the room. You turn to see him bearing a glass of water, a piping hot mug, and a small metal tin. 

“I don’t know if you like tea,” he starts as he sets the beverages on the coffee table’s coasters. “But I thought you might want something warm to drink.”

“Tea sounds great, thank you so much,” you reply as you wiggle your arms out of the tangle of blanket surrounding you. Reaching for the tin, you pull out a bag of Earl Grey and place it in the mug to steep.

“It’s y/n, right?” he asks as he sits in a nearby armchair.

“That’s me,” you reply. “And you’re Jihoon, yes?”

He nods to confirm. “I know we met once a while ago,” he adds, “but I wasn’t sure if you remembered.”

"Of course I remember, I accidentally stole your packages,” you say with a laugh. “I felt bad about that for months.”

“No harm done, it was an honest mistake,” he replies with a calm smile. 

The tea is nowhere near ready, but you take a sip anyway. The hot liquid sends a wave of warmth through your whole body, making you instantly feel much better. Now that you’re not freezing and in tears, you can finally think straight, and you remember why you’re here in the first place.

“I should call the locksmith, god knows how long it’s gonna take them to get here in this storm,” you state as you look around for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be seen. 

“Oh, I think my phone is still in my bag.”

You start to get up, but Jihoon is faster.

“Here, I’ll grab it for you.”

He disappears from the room in an instant, returning a few moments later with your bag in hand. Thanking him politely, you rummage around for your phone until you find it. You open Google and type locksmith into the search, calling the first one you see with good reviews. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, due to the storm we aren’t able to send anyone out until tomorrow.”

You try another one, but it’s the same story. A third one, no luck either. Nobody is able to come out until tomorrow morning. Dejected, you go ahead and schedule an appointment for 7am the next day. You do your best to remain calm, but you’re too exhausted to hold in your tears.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say to Jihoon, burying your face with your hands.

“Hey,” he replies softly. “It’s gonna be okay. You can stay here as long as you need.” 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you sigh.

“You’re not,” he assures you. “I promise. You’re welcome to take the guest room.”

“Are you sure?” you say with a sniffle, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Of course,” he nods. 

“Thank you so much,” you tell him sincerely. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem at all,” he says with a soft smile. “Also, are you hungry? I have some leftover stew I was going to heat up, if you’d like some.”

You didn’t even realize that you were hungry, but the mention of food makes your stomach rumble. 

“That sounds amazing,” you reply. 

Jihoon spends a few minutes in the kitchen, returning with two steaming bowls of a hearty-looking beef stew. 

“This is delicious,” you remark as you scoop another chunk of potato into your mouth. “I’m gonna need your recipe.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jihoon replies humbly. “I’m glad you like it.”

Several moments of silence pass between you two as you enjoy the meal, the music of Debussy’s piano filling the room in lieu of conversation. But instead of it being awkward, you feel peaceful, replenished from the food and the warmth of Jihoon’s home.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” he eventually turns to ask you. “I like having something on while I eat, but if not it’s okay.”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply. “What are you watching right now?”

“Oh, um, I like… anime,” he says sheepishly, turning slightly pink with embarrassment. “But we definitely don’t have to watch that. What do you like?”

“Have you seen The Great British Bake Off?” you respond. “It’s on Netflix.”

“Never heard of it,” he admits, but he already has the tv remote in hand, opening the app.

“I haven’t seen the new season yet, if you want to start there.”

“Will I understand it if I haven’t seen the other seasons?” he inquires, causing you to giggle.

“It’s a reality show, each season is different,” you fill him in, proceeding to explain the premise. He listens earnestly, but his facial expression tells you he is skeptical. 

“It’s really good, I promise!” you assure him.

“I don’t really get it,” he admits with a confused look on his face. “But if you say it’s good, I’ll take your word for it.”

He puts on the first episode, letting you explain the different challenges to him. About halfway through the episode, he turns to you.

“So… what exactly do they win?”

“A cake stand,” you answer. The look of bewilderment on his face makes you laugh again.

“So they don’t even get any money from it??”

“Nope,” you reply, cozying up under the blanket again. “That’s why it’s so wholesome.”

“Ah, okay,” he says, still unsure about the whole thing. But by the end of the first episode, he’s hooked.

“How do they do that??” he remarks at each contestant’s fanciful cake in the final challenge, his eyes glued to the tv. As soon as the credits start to roll, he clicks the Next Episode button.

“See? I told you it was good,” you say with a sleepy smile. The combination of the satisfying dinner, the warmth of the blanket, and the relaxing nature of the show is quickly making your eyelids turn heavy. You lean your head against the back of the couch, determined not to doze off - but within a few minutes, you are fast asleep.

The soft light of early dawn glows through your closed eyelids as you begin to awaken. You’re so warm and comfortable that you don’t even bother opening your eyes - instead you just lay there, relaxing under the blankets. As your brain slowly wakes, last night’s events start to register in your mind - you grimace as you recall the bitter cold of being stuck outside your own house, having a breakdown, feeling utterly helpless until-

Your eyes pop open. Sleepily adjusting to the morning light filtering in through the windows, you see that you’re still in Jihoon’s house, on the couch. You turn your face to see a pillow underneath your head that wasn’t there previously, and an extra knit blanket draped over the red fleece one that was already wrapped around you. Jihoon is nowhere in sight, presumably still asleep. You wonder what time it is - when suddenly you remember the locksmith appointment you made for 7am. Panicked, you bolt upright, searching for your phone amidst the blankets, until you spot it laying upon the coffee table, plugged into a charger that isn’t yours. You snatch it up, your heart sinking when you see the time: 7:34am.

“SHIT,” you grumble to yourself. You hurriedly unravel yourself from the tangle of blankets - it’s still warm in his house, but a chill hits you in the absence of the cozy covers. Sitting fully upright, you feel your feet bump something as they touch the carpet. Looking down, you spot a pair of slippers - light beige in color, women’s, brand new with the tags still on. For a moment you feel a bit weird about putting them on (Why does he have these, anyway?), but you’re cold, and at this point you don’t care. You slip them on, the comfort of the fluffy interior immediately making you  glad you did. They feel high quality - luxurious even, and now you feel nice and toasty. Rising from the couch, you grab the top blanket and wrap it around you. The inviting scent of coffee suddenly hits you - you follow it into the kitchen, where Jihoon stands before a brewing coffee pot. Noticing you have entered the room, he turns to greet you.

“Good morning,” he says warmly. He wears a pair of plaid pajama pants, seemingly with a matching top underneath a dark fleece quarter-zip. You note that he also has slippers on, not too dissimilar from the ones currently on your feet. As the coffee finishes brewing, he grabs two mugs, gesturing to you with one. 

“Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some,” you answer. He takes the pot and pours the piping hot beverage into your mug.

“Cream and sugar?” 

“Yes, please.”

He fixes your drink and hands you the steaming mug. You take a small, careful sip, your insides instantly warmed by the smooth brew.

“Delicious, thank you,” you tell him, taking another generous sip.

“Of course,” he nods.

“Guess I missed the locksmith,” you say with a sigh. “I should’ve thought to set an alarm before I passed out.”

He turns, reaching for something on the counter. Turning back, he extends his hand to you, your keys laying in his palm.

“Already taken care of,” he says with a smile.

“How did you…” Your words trail off as you take the keys, your fingertips lightly grazing his warm skin. 

“I met the locksmith and explained the situation,” he explains. “He picked the lock in like, one minute.” He gives you an apologetic look as he continues. “I’m sorry I went into your house without asking you first, I felt bad, but I didn’t want to have to wake you and drag you out into the cold.”

“Don’t apologize,” you reply, shaking your head quickly. “I really really appreciate it.”

“I’m glad I could help,” he tells you with a soft smile.

“Thank you for the pillow too,” you add. “And the slippers, glad you had these laying around,” you say with a grin. His smile fades slightly, glancing away for a moment. 

“They were supposed to be a gift,” he says as he looks at you again. “But I didn’t need them anymore. You can keep them.” He smiles, but despite trying to hide it, his tone is tinged with sadness.

“Oh,” you say softly. “You sure?”

He hesitates slightly, unsure whether to tell you.

“They were for my girlfriend, but she left me a couple weeks ago,” he admits. He looks down at his coffee, stirring it aimlessly with the spoon. A pang of sympathy hits you. 

“I’m sorry,” you say gently. “I unfortunately can relate. My fiancé left me five days ago, for another woman.”

He perks his head up slightly in surprise. “Oh wow, what an awful week this must be. I’m sorry, too.”

“Yeah, quite honestly, it fucking sucks,” you say, staring off into space a bit. 

“I was about to propose,” he adds, unsure exactly why he’s telling you this. But you both are feeling a newfound, unspoken kinship in your aligned misfortunes. “But one day she just told me she didn’t love me anymore.”

“Jesus, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry,” you empathize. “I found out my fiancé was cheating on me and confronted him. He didn’t even give a shit so I kicked him out, haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“Wow,” Jihoon says with wide eyes. He lets out a sigh. “I had already bought a ring, too. She didn’t know, but I had the whole proposal planned out.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “I guess it’s for the better that she left before I even bothered.”

“Yeah, doesn’t make it any less painful though.”

“Definitely not. And I wasn’t even able to return the ring.” He laughs, letting out an incredulous huff. 

“Oh my god,” you react in bewilderment. 

“It’s alright,” he says calmly. “Maybe I’ll be able to use it someday.”

His eyes linger on you slightly too long as the words roll off his tongue. The moment is brief, fleeting - but it’s enough for you to notice. 

“Would you like any more coffee?” he asks before you can fully process anything, nudging the pot in your direction.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you reply, finishing the last bit in your mug. 

“Here, I’ll take it.” 

“I better get going, now that I can actually get into my house,” you announce with a smile. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You weren’t a bother at all,” he assures you. “But I’m sure you’re dying to go home.”

Jihoon walks to his entryway. He gathers your things for you, taking your coat from the closet and helping you into it.

“I truly can’t thank you enough,” you tell him sincerely. “You really saved my ass.”

He smiles at you. “You’re very welcome. It was nice to finally properly meet you, y/n.”

He hands you something as he opens the door for you. You take it - it’s a blue sticky note, with his name and phone number written neatly on it.

“You can always call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” you smile warmly, folding the note and tucking it safely into your pocket. “I will.”

[sunsherbet]

Insomniac

In which spencer reid offers to help you with your sleeping troubles.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

CW: incorrect depictions of insomnia i think, post!prison spencer, aka freaky/confident spencer, praise, fastburn, fingering, not beta read

A smooth string of steaming water pours from the Keurig and you dunk a lavender tea bag into the clay mug. The water pulls the bag deeper into the mug like exhaustion pulling at your heavy eyelids. You press your palms into your eyes and let out a sob-like sigh in frustration.

It must’ve been the fourth time this week that no matter how hard you tossed and turned, sleep simply wouldn’t come.

The Keurig lets out a low whirr and you move your tea onto the island. You lean against the granite countertop and sip the warm liquid, dunking the teabag a few times for good measure.

Lavender tea was your newest attempt at curing your insomnia. Last night there was white noise and the night before was a weighted blanket- neither offering any meaningful relief. Your days have been a blur of restless naps and excessive caffeine, both efforts falling short in battling the relentless fog of sleep that clings to your mind.

By the time you reach the bottom of the mug, it’s clear—the tea has done nothing to increase your melatonin. You’re no more tired than before.

In your sleep deprivation and anger at another failed attempt you launch your mug into the wall. It shatters upon impact and you slide down the length of the counter in exasperation. Ever since you had moved to Washington DC, sleep had been a struggle. Maybe it was the bright lights and constant buzz of the city or maybe it was simply that feeling of homesickness you’d found nestled in the basin of your stomach since you moved away from home.

The sudden knock at the door breaks your thoughts, and you get up on shaky legs to answer it.

The clock above the stove reads 2:45 A.M. and you distantly wonder who could be at your door during this hour. Despite your exhaustion, you manage to gather enough sense to peek through the peephole. A man stands there, his floppy brown curls spilling just under his ears. He’s got gold wire glasses sitting at the edge of his nose. He wears a short-sleeve white shirt, light grey sweatpants, and brown bunny slippers. Those bring the first smile to your face all night.

Deciding a man in bunny slippers probably isn’t a murderer, you unlatch the door and crack it open just enough for you to slip into the hallway.

“Hi, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, trying to subtly adjust your Kohl’s pajama set.

“I sure hope so,” He gives a boyish smile and you feel something squeeze your heart. “I heard something shatter through the shared wall and wanted to make sure you were ok?”

Shit.

Of course, you’d woken him up, you threw a mug at the wall.

Seemingly sensing your distress he rubs a hand against his neck and says, “I was up anyway so don’t worry about waking me up or anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

And of course, he’s the sweetest man ever.

Maybe it’s because it’s late and you're tired or maybe it’s because his smile is so warm it makes your cheeks heat but you can’t seem to lie, “Honestly? I threw a mug at the wall because I tried drinking lavender tea because the stupid internet told me it’d help me sleep but it didn’t and now I’m in the same situation I’ve been in for the last few weeks where I can’t seem to fall asleep for the life of me. I was irritated and mad and upset and I’m exhausted but can’t sleep and so no I’m not okay.”

You finish your tirade with a long inhale and peek at his reaction through squinted eyes. He’s looking at you from under those stupidly attractive glasses and you feel your legs clench involuntarily.

Fuck. Now, you’re tired and turned on.

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t mean to go off like that. I think the lack of sleep is making me a bit loopy.”

Spencer shakes his head, “Did you know 12% of adults in America have insomnia?”

“Do you have a stat for how many of them chuck purple mugs at their wall because of it?”

He seems to mull over this for a bit before leaning in and saying conspiratorially, “No, but I may have something that can help you get some sleep. You know, before all your mugs are gone.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your heart flutter and before you know it, you’re nodding and opening your door further.

You hear his footsteps as you walk into your apartment and when you turn to close the door he’s so close you feel his breath on your skin.

Spencer swallows and your eyes trail the motion. The moment feels oddly intimate so you whisper your question, “So, what did you have in mind.”

“It��s been shown that when sex involves orgasm, it can help people fall asleep. Following sexual climax, the body releases hormones, such as oxytocin and prolactin, that promote feelings of satisfaction and happiness. At the same time, the production of cortisol — a hormone that induces alertness and excitement — decreases following orgasm. This combination of hormonal processes makes people feel tired and ready for sleep.”

Your mouth goes slack and you feel a familiar shiver of arousal. It’s almost concerning how attractive you find his knowledge of something as trivial as cortisol production. “Are you suggesting we have sex?”

He seems at least a bit flustered at your bluntness and gets rosey. He nods, “I hope you don’t find this rude, I just know what it’s like to have trouble sleeping and I found sexual stimulation profoundly helpful.” When you don’t respond he backs up, “I should go-”

With a rise of your toes, you’re gripping the collar of his sleep shirt and slamming your lips together. Spencer steadies you with a hand on your waist and gently guides you to the door. He tastes like coffee and toothpaste and he smells like cinnamon. Everything about him envelopes you so wholly that you have no choice but to surrender to it. His lips latch onto your neck and he alternates between soft kisses and gentle sucking.

You throw your head back but instead of making contact with the wall, you feel one hand shoot out to cradle it as his other drags your leg around his waist.

“You sure you wanna do this pretty girl?” He murmurs against your collarbone.

Nodding you helplessly roll your hips against his as you say, “Yes, please.”

He grins, “Well since you’re being so polite.”

Between his fluffy words and soft kisses, you’re fuzzy on when or how but you end up lying against the couch with his leg slotted between your thighs.

Spencer’s fingers trail against the hem of your sleep shorts and with a desperate nod of consent you lift your hips so he can pull them off you.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do baby, I’m gonna help you cum as many times as it takes for you to feel tired. Are you okay with that?” Spencer asks, allowing featherlight touches between the crease of your legs.

You start to nod but he shakes his head, “Words please.”

You whine and let your head thump against the plush sage sofa. You’re almost boiling with need and you feel a wet patch growing on your cotton panties.“Yes, Yes I’m okay with that.”

Before you know it Spencer is sliding your underwear to the side and slipping a finger up and down your slit. He drags some wetness from your center and uses it as lube to circle your clit. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, feeling your thighs tremble.

“Shh, I know baby but we can’t have you waking up the other neighbors like you did me now can we?” Circling your clit with one hand he uses his other to pinch at the peaks of your nipples through the thin material of your shirt.

Maybe it’s because of his deliberate and strong strokes or maybe it’s because you’re exhausted and this is the only semblance of peace you’ve had in days but you find your release within moments of him touching you.

The next morning you wake up from the first restful sleep in days and a pleasant soreness in your legs.

[fuck-customers]

I'll never understand customers that go out of their way to shop somewhere just to complain about everything in the store + the store's policies + employees + management + literally anything else they can think of. Like...you're just playing yourself. Even if your goal was to have changes made by complaining, after a few months or years, you should probably get the hint that shit won't change and shop elsewhere.

Just saw a regular complainer who of course was complaining today. This woman has been shopping at this store since before I started working here. If I add how long I've been here + how long former employees worked here and have confirmed that she has been coming since they first started working there...I'd estimate this woman has been shopping at this particular location for at minimum 10 years. I'd be willing to bet that it's been closer to 20.

Nothing she's complained about has been changed. Most of what she complains about is general nitpicky stuff (someone saying "hi" instead of "hello" type of shit) but there has been some genuine things that should be changed, but of course gets ignored by corporate.

So...why continue to shop here? Obviously she likes the store, or at least the pros outweigh the cons. So shut up and buy your stuff and get out.

Posted by admin Rodney

[aurawrawr]

Who am I to you?

Part 3

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna x afab reader x twin brother and Kingsguard Yuuji Itadori

Yuuji is eager to be a father. And when it seems to him that he might not be well equipped to fulfill his goal, he seeks help from the only person he knows will do it without a second thought. But someone should have warned him that this (re)union might breed more than a child, something he'd regret for a long time.

Here's Part 1 and Part 2.

Minors, DNI. WC: 4.9k

CW: smoking, infertility, anger, frustration, feeling humiliated, poisoning, paralysis, heavy drinking, mutual bickering, lots of angst, true form Sukuna, PIV sex, oral [fem receiving(from tummy tongue)], breast play, praises, breeding, talk about pregnancy and motherhood

"He wants to see you.”

You have your head in your hands. As if the past two weeks have not been stressful enough, Yuuji has come to you with a request you can't make heads or tails of. You're not even sure you heard him right. Please have a child with Aniki, that's what you believe he said. But that's insane. Does he have no idea what he's asking for?

"What for? Has he agreed to your proposal?" You're shaking. When you said you wanted to see Ryomen, this is not how you thought it would go.

"He wants to know what you want.”

You scoff. "Do you want to know what I want?”

"You want to be a mother, right? Love, we talked about this before we even started trying. If you had disagreed, I'd have never tried to change your mind. And... and..." Yuuji sits down at the edge of the bed. "By the looks of it, I can't give you a child. So the next best... closest option I can give you is my twin brother. It will be just like having a baby with me, you know.”

"Yuuji, the problem could be with me," You try to reason with your husband.

"Do you really believe that? We studied this for so long, went to doctors and asked for their opinion. We know your cycle is healthy. The bleeding always happens on time. Whereas…”

"There is absolutely no indication that there is something wrong with you either. You do so much physical labor, you stay active, and you have no addictions. Hell, you haven't even touched a bottle of sake since we started trying. If anything, the fact that Ryo has been smoking and drinking since he was fifteen should deter you from making the request that you are."

Yuuji sighs. It's time for him to sit with his head in his hands. Just when you start to think you've gotten through to him, he asks, "please can we try this once?”

So you walk across the courtyard, following your husband's shadow, wavering in the light of the lantern he is holding. It's late, late in the night. The palace is silent, so silent you can hear the snores from the servants' rooms, the clacking of shoes as the guards keep watch, the low hum of a chant from Uraume's room and, of course, your own thumping heartbeat. You were so glad to be finally reuniting with Ryo but so torn to be committing the sin you have been scared of ever since you married Yuuji. What was Ryomen thinking? He should have turned Yuuji down in the first place.

"Aniki," Yuuji calls out from the doorstep. "We're here.”

The room reeks of opium, the smell of yearning and being left behind. The four-armed beast that terrorizes the land is sitting at the window, blowing ringlets of smoke into the air outside. His kimono loosely hangs from his shoulders, baring his chest. You don't know how to look at him without giving away all your truth. So you don't look at him; you look around him.

"Come in," he demands.

Yuuji leads you in by the hand, sitting you down on a couch on the floor. The room has changed so much since you saw it the last time you were allowed to come inside to deliver the King's supper. There is a full-size four post bed taking up a lion's share of the room, it's canopy red and black, a tapestry of danger. You sit in silence, observing the two most important men in your life have a conversation about who gets to breed you. This is the most humiliated you've felt in all your life but you want to see how far they're willing to push your boundaries before they realize they're both losing you.

"My love?" Yuuji beckons you back out of your spiraling thoughts. "Aniki wanted to know if you're okay with all this.”

"Tell him I don't care.”

"That settles it, Yuuji. I don't wish to proceed if she's not willing. It'd be—”

"What I mean is..." You grit your teeth. "I don't care as long as it is something Yuuji wants.”

Your husband rushes to you, kneels and looks up at you with teary eyes. "Thank you, my love. Thank you so much. You make my world a better place to live in. I've never and I can never love anyone as much as I love you. Well, maybe the baby. But both of you will be sharing the same spot on my heart." He kisses your hand and you caress the side of his face when he looks at you like you've just picked the moon from the sky to give it to him. He's so precious, you want to do just that.

You feel a somber gaze on you but Ryo is facing elsewhere when you look up. Only the two eyes on his mask are on you and they give away nothing. Not even a speck of emotion. He's back to being the old him, the Ryo you could never figure out.

Yuuji wipes at his runny nose before standing up. "You two have a lot to catch up on. Why don't I leave you to it? We don't want it to be uncomfortable when you know... you two... yeah, I'm going to... okay! See you later, my love.”

You sit in silence, staring at the door that Yuuji shuts behind him. The night is chilly and the open window beside Ryo is not helping in the slightest. What do you have to talk to him about? What can you even say? I've been imagining your face at the heights of my pleasure for the last five years? Too forward. I'm still gonna call you the name I have our entire lives and not refer to you as the Lord or the King? A little offensive.

He clears his throat and sits up. His kimono falls further apart, drawing your eyes to his abdomen. You only wanted to steal a glance but the sight of his gaping belly shakes you to your very core. He starts to say, "I was thinking—”

But you stop him, "Are you hurt?" Your eyes are fixated on his abdomen and you can swear you see something moving.

"Where?" He follows your gaze. "This? It's only a second mouth.”

You look up at his face in horror, finally meeting his eyes. "A second mouth? What happened— you know what, never mind. Just let me know when—”

"No, go ahead." His voice is suddenly so much softer. "Ask me anything.”

You scoff. "You're much agreeable when you know you're about to fuck me, aren't you?”

His eyes grow darker at your challenge. His jaw tightens. "I shall not tolerate being talked to like that anymore. We're no longer just friends. I am your King and you will remember that.”

"Right. Understood... Sukuna-sama." The sound of your heart breaking is so loud, you barely hear his next words anymore.

"Do you agree? Woman?”

"I'm sorry, could you please repeat yourself... my Lord?" Your eyes are downcast now. The water on your lids make them heavy.

Ryomen sighs. "I suggested we lie to Yuuji. And hopefully he'll give this up in a few months when you don't become with child. Do you agree with that?”

"No, I don't. I too want a child, my Lord, and if you care about your brother, you'll give me one.”

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

The next time you see Ryo in his chambers, you go alone. In the middle of the night. The palace is busy for the upcoming coronation of their terrifying protector, readying the halls for guests from neighboring kingdoms. Sneaking is not an option so you carry a tea set up the stairs as an excuse to visit the King.

The fusuma slides open just as you're about to knock, revealing a towering Ryomen on the other side. As if, he has been expecting you. You quickly steer your glance and bow to him. "I'm here with your tea, my Lord."

"Come in." He steps out of your way.

The state of the room surprises you. It does not smell of weed or tobacco anymore; in fact, it smells pleasant. Somehow, it looks bigger, cleaner. You set the tray down on the tatami, kneel in front of it, and Ryomen takes up the spot opposite to you. "Why is there only one cup?" He asks, folding two of his arms over his chest while the other two rest on his thighs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my Lord. Do you require two separate cups?”

"No, woman, where is your cup?”

You chuckle. "I dare not drink tea with my King now. That'd be blasphemous." You keep the smug smile on your face while you swirl the kyūsu and strain the tea into the cup you brought for Ryomen. He picks it up and takes a sip before placing it back on the tray.

"Drink," he orders. You shake your head, feeling a sudden rush of courage. "I said, drink. You dare to defy your King, do you?”

His words make you stop. There's no ill intent in his words, no authority in his tone, just a friendly challenge. So you bring his cup to your lips to take down a big chug. "You're having fun with this, aren't you?" You ask.

"As much as you are." There's a smirk on his lips, like there used to be on your friend, Ryomen's lips.

Nothing happens that night. The tray sits between as you two chat about things like old friends do, the air filled with your chuckles as he teases you for being a missus now, for not treating him after the wedding, for not realizing how quick the passing of time and his absence could change everything.

"Have you been to see her?" You ask, pouring again from the teapot.

Ryo knows what you're talking about. "I have. The crime scene had one name written all over it. Yours. What did you do?" He sounds proud.

"Just this berry and that leaf and that other fruit. I only wanted to make sure she can never use her hand to hit someone close to me ever again.”

Ryo smirks, sipping on his tea before handing the cup to you. "And what about my father?”

"I had nothing to do with Otou-san's death. If anything, I believe it was your half-brother's greed." You sigh. "You see what I've married into?”

He scoffs. "Now now, you keep my little brother out of this. His lamb-like innocence makes up for the dysfunctionality of the rest of my family. I'm sorry. I mean, our family.”

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

The morning of the coronation, you wake up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. Your husband climbs off the bed before you can. "I'll see who it is, my love. You stay put." You shuffle out of the sheets anyway, your robes intact.

There's a woman's voice outside. "Sukuna-sama has sent your attires for today. I will be helping the lady with her jūnihitoe."

"Jūnihitoe?" Yuuji and you ask at the same time.

"Yes. That is what Sukuna-sama wanted. Is there a problem?"

You shrug at your husband who replies, "umm... no, there's no problem. Please give us some time to freshen up." There's a hum at the door and Yuuji shuts it behind him. He walks up to you as you keep shaking your head. "You know, subtlety is not his strong suit. It'll be fine. Don't worry."

"I'll look like a fish out of water, wearing that in the middle of the servants' rows."

You don't have to sit in the middle of the servants' rows. When Ryo sees you and Yuuji walk out into the yard in your shiny new clothes, he sends Uraume to fetch the two of you close to his makeshift throne. "What are the plans for today?" You ask Uraume as you get as comfortable as possible on the wooden seats.

They huff. "We have the coronation where your mother-in-law will crown Sukuna-sama, who will then appoint the ministers and officially declare Itadori-kun as the Commander of the Kingsguard. Then there's the tourney where the champions from neighboring states have come to compete for a spot on the King of Curses' army. And then there's the feast that will last the rest of the day. You would have known all of that if you didn't lock yourself in your room twenty-four hours a day."

Nothing pleases you more than when they bring in your mother-in-law in a wheelchair, the right side of her body limp from having her tea dosed with high amounts of toxins every day for a year. She can barely speak more than a few syllables without her tongue getting heavy. Your pride bellows in your chest when Ryomen walks down the steps of the dais to get to the center of the yard.

The audience is silent as the beast refuses to bend his knee. The servants help up your mother-in-law, lifting her up on a step as she struggles to hold the crown up in her left hand.

Ryo whispers something you don't hear from afar but you smile when his stepmother is forced to use both her hands to put the crown on his head.

"Aniki is too much at times," Yuuji complains.

"But isn't this so satisfying to watch?"

"That, it is."

The smirk on your face lingers as the proceedings continue. Ryo walks around the yard, naming his ministers even though he just told you the other night that he doesn't need any. He summons Yuji and declares him to be the Commander of the Kingsguard. The crowd doesn't cheer when one brother kneels in front of the other. The crowd doesn't make a peep the whole day; they're there because they don't want to lose their heads or that of their children.

You admire how Ryomen has the whole town under his thumb. The town that wronged you, shunned you and your mother, he's punishing them. You don't know where it is coming from, but there is a sense of accomplishment that you cannot shake off.

He drinks the rest of the day, through the tourney, the declaration of the winner and the evening feast. Every time you see Yuji trying to snatch away his jug from him, Ryo becomes grumpy, demanding his mead be handed back.

To be honest, he doesn't even look drunk. You've seen him inebriated before, in your teenage years. He used to become clumsy and throw things, and curse a lot. But now, he's just... a little grumpy. Maybe his changed physical form has something to do with that.

You're quickly proved wrong. You're talking to some of your colleagues, sitting at the dinner table Uraume assigned to you, when a partially filled jug of ale flies across the room, drenching half the guests. The dinner hall buzzes with commotion, chairs shifting, people questioning, and when you look up toward the direction of the throne, your eyes lock with the King's. He is grumpy because of you.

Only a moment later, Yuuji comes to fetch you. "Aniki is asking for you." His new clothes are flashy, his cloak red like the blood of those he would slay for his brother. He takes your arm in his as he leads you to the throne.

"You wanted to see me, Your Highness?" You bow to the King.

"Yes..h, woman." His words slur. "I am retiring from the party and I wish to dine in my quarters. You will make such arrangements while my brother and I be on our way there."

"Of course, Your Highness."

When you reach the doors of his bedroom, a heavy tray in your hand, you stop to listen in on the conversation between the brothers. "This body was supposed to be a deformity, a curse levied on me for my sins. But I see this as a saturation of strength. What's better than two arms?"

"Four," Yuuji answers. "I agree with you. But I don't understand the mouth on your stomach."

"Actually, this was a gift. It can be used for chanting."

Yuuji hums. "One thing hasn't changed in you. Do you know what that is, Aniki?"

"What?"

"Your massive ego and penchant for showing off." The brothers laugh. "Saturation of strength? Who talks like that?"

You smile as you keep listening. It fills your heart with warmth knowing that the twins have rebuilt their relationship. Still, you can't shake off the feeling of being left behind yet again.

"You're not smoking anymore?"

"No," Ryomen replies. "You assigned me a task, remember? Tobacco and opium might delay or worse, hinder it. Hence—"

Your cheeks start to warm up.

"Alcohol might too," your husband argues. "And yet—"

"Your dinner is here, Your Highness." You put a stop to that conversation as quickly as you can.

Yuuji slides open the door, welcoming you inside. You place the tray on the table in the middle of the room before bowing to the King. Your husband chuckles. "Love, there's nobody around. We don't need to do that here."

He takes your hand and pulls you toward the couch where Ryo is leisurely taking up half the space. Yuuji puts you in his lap, draws you close to his chest as the brothers keep chatting. Your eyes never leave Ryo's. Well, you are not even sure which eyes to follow — the drunk, embarrassed human eyes that fleet between your face and Yuuji's, or the demon eyes frowning at the spot on your arm that Yuuji squeezes every time he adjusts you in his embrace.

The food you brought stays on the table, forgotten and going cold, as the three of you reminisce about your childhood. Yuuji teases you, bringing up how you used to be scared of Ryo when you first arrived at the mansion and still followed him around, touching his arm every now and then, trying to figure him out.

"Shall we get going now?" Yuuji nudges your shoulder with his chin and the demon eyes furrow even further. You nod.

Your husband starts to lead you away when you feel a grip on you, pulling you back. Yuuji turns too when you fall behind. He spots Ryomen's downcast gaze on the spot where the tips of his thumb and first finger meet around your wrist. The shock on Yuuji's face catches your eye but before you can wriggle yourself out of his brother's grasp, he walks back to you and pecks the side of your face. "I'll see you in the morning, my love." And just like that, he is gone.

"You can't be serious." You rebuke Ryomen, yanking your hand away.

"You wanted this." His gaze is still downcast.

You scoff. "Oh, poor Ryomen! It must be so miserable having to fuck a woman. You must have never done that in your whole life."

His eyes flash with frustration. "They were whores."

"And what am I? Asking my husband's brother to fuck me so I can experience motherhood. Am I any different?"

Ryo stands up from the couch and walks toward you, making you take a step back. He's huge now. So much taller and bigger than he was before. You're up against the wall, sandwiched between the wood and his chest. "Ryo, please." You breathe, looking away.

"Do I still scare you, woman?"

You shake your head, refusing to give him the last laugh.

"Even when I look like this?"

Your eyes fly open, meeting his. All four of his eyes are on you, expectant and vulnerable. He needs you. You reach out to touch his face, the human side, and he leans into it like a cat. "Ryo," You call out to him. All your anger melts when he closes all his eyes and relishes in your touch. You place your other hand on his chest, trying to feel the beat of his heart. It's calm, a steady pace. He's at peace in your arms.

"What am I to you?" Ryo asks. For a brief moment, he looks like a boy again, wanting to know if you love him.

"I don't know."

Ryomen smiles wryly before escaping your embrace. He's about to say something but you beat him to it.

"There has not been a single moment in the last five years when you weren't on my mind. I'm cooking and I make it spicier because you prefer it that way. I am sewing and I use your favorite colors. I'm sitting by the pond by myself and I imagine us having a conversation. My husband..." You choke up. "My husband is making love to me and I... I see your face. You... you left me. I played our last conversation over and over in my head, trying to untangle the web of your riddles but I couldn't." You rub off the tears streaming down your face. "You left me here and Yuuji was like my wooden plank in open ocean. I had to... even though it was so wrong... even though —"

Ryo cups your face in two of his hands, pausing your downpour of thoughts. "If I stall any longer, I'll never do it."

Before you can say anything else, his lips find yours. His two lower arms pull you into his body as he kisses you. You knew there will be no tenderness with Ryomen but this passion is abundant and unbound. His big, strong hands squeeze your sides as they run up and down your torso with frenzied lust. You throw your arms around his neck, keeping him close.

He lifts you up in his arms as he keeps kissing you, his mouth hot and demanding, and carries you over to the bed. "Get these off, woman." He pulls at the ties of your top robe. "Jūnihitoe was a bad idea"

You chuckle at his child-like impatience. But can you really blame him? You're itching too to touch him, to have him touch you, claim you. Oh it's so wrong! It's so unfair to Yuuji.

But Yuuji is the last thing on your mind right now.

Robe by robe, layer by layer, you come undone to the lover you thought you were never meant to have. Here he is, undressing you, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck, and all you can do is... let him.

You can swear you see his jaws drop open once you're completely naked. "Don't stare," You tease, your cheeks burning. "It's not the first time you're seeing a woman."

"They were whores. You are..." Ryo hesitates. "You are you."

"Wow, you're so efficient at communicating what I mean to you." You smirk.

"Stop being bratty, woman." His human eyes are trying their hardest to intimidate you while the demon eyes are too busy ogling your chest to care.

You lie down and Ryo follows beside you. He cradles your head, his fingers nestling in your hair as he kisses you again. Your deft fingers find their way to the sash of his robe, pulling it apart, immediately navigating their way over his skin, around the inhuman mouth.

"Goodness," You yelp when you feel something wet glide past your hand.

"Oh, it has a mind of its own. I can't really control it." Ryo makes an excuse. "But, it seems as though it likes you."

"That was surely a demonstration of affection."

You both laugh, easing up the tension and unfortunately, the built up desire. Ryomen lies down on his back with you on one of his arms. His robe falls apart, exposing his chest. You extend a hand to touch him. Drawing circles through his scanty hair, you pull yourself closer to him.

Before he can say anything, you put your hand over his mouth, still damp from your kiss. "Can you, for once, put yourself before your brother? For me?"

You sit up, flinging one leg over his hips. Ryo runs his fingers over your thighs as you settle yourself. You take two of his hands and guide them to your chest. "You've grown, woman," he groans.

"What does that mean?"

He sits up, pulling you closer so your forehead touches his. "It means, I've craved your breathy moans, the harshness of your nails on my back, the sweet taste of your sweat on my tongue. I used to watch you walk back to the house after your bath, your chest heaving with every step." He kneads your flesh, making you gasp as he softly tugs at a nipple. "In winters, like an old creep, I used to lecherously stare at the pert points on the front of your robe, imagining my hands over them... and my mouth." He snuggles his nose against your jaw and kisses it before venturing southward. Locking his human eyes with you, he opens his mouth wide and closes his lips around your bud.

His tongue sends jolts of sensation down your spine. You grasp at his hair, pushing your teat further into his mouth. Two of his hands grope the soft flesh of your behind, squeeze the fat on your hips, glide over your thighs, before one of his fingers finds the core of your pleasure.

"So wet, woman," he mumbles against your nipple. "Almost like you've been waiting all your life for me."

"I have." Your eyes water as he draws circles around your clitoris, slow, drawn out, painfully patient circles. "You're such a tease, Ryo. Why don't you just... take me?"

"And what's the fun in that? Let me utilize every moment I have with you." He kisses you again. "What if this is all we have?"

The heart that was warm and gleeful, breaks again. You look into Ryomen's eyes, only to find a mirror that reflects your feelings. This time, you kiss him. Fervently. Maniacally. You push his back to the the bed again, slowly sliding down his torso to meet his lips. What you don't expect is a tongue on your clit, the tongue on Ryo's stomach.

You sit up, perplexed at the onslaught of pleasure but unable to lift yourself off of the demonic mouth. Ryo encourages you. "You look so good like that, woman. That's right, grind your hips against my mouth. Your pleasure gives me pleasure. Are you coming?"

You nod, unable to form words anymore.

"Keep going, woman. You're doing so good. Come for me. Come for me."

This orgasm leaves a permanent mark on your psyche and also on Ryo's abdomen. Your nails have gone as far into his skin as they could, drawing blood.

Without a moment of respite, Ryo flips you over on the bed. Your giggling stops when his strong arm pulls your waist up to put a cushion under it. "You wanted me to take you, didn't you?" He rasps, bending over you, so close that his belly mouth springs out and starts licking your back. "Talk to me. Tell me what you want."

"I want you inside me." You finally voice your lewd thoughts. "I want you to give me a child, Ryo. Even if I have to raise it with Yuuji, I want you and myself to know who the father really is."

"Fuck," Ryomen groans.

You cry out as he pushes in, your delicate skin threatening to break around his girth. As soon as you accommodate yourself to his length, he starts rocking his hips. His grip is strong on the plump flesh of your hips as his nails dig in to keep you in place. You can feel him, throbbing, his fat tip pulsating against your womb, ready to breed you on command.

"You feel so good, woman." He's moaning too. Your name on his lips sounds like exactly how it was supposed to be pronounced when your mother named you. His hands are traveling up and down your back, grabbing, squeezing, groping your flesh. "If you so badly want a child... I'll give you one. More. As. Many. As. You. Want." He thrusts with every word until his grip on you tightens to the point of bruises.

You've lost count of how many orgasms you've had but when Ryo comes, you feel fulfilled. You're so filled with his warmth, you don't realize when you collapse on the bed, when Ryo's hand scoops you close to his chest. "You did good, woman. I'm sure this union will be fruitful," he whispers with his mouth to your forehead as you drift to a well-earned sleep.

𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸𓆸

There's no God in my heaven. And Hell belongs to me. King of Curses, they call me. And what I have done to earn that title is between me and the sorcerers I killed. For what, then, am I being rewarded?

My Heaven is in my arms, warm and breathing, probably sore in all the places I touched her tonight. How dare I? How dare I ruin her, maim her unfit to ever love her husband again?

Maybe, if everything had gone right, I would have been her husband. And if my human form was not crippled the same way my brother is, she'd have already become a mother by now. I know of her doubts of being the one crippled, but I know she's fertile. I know she's fertile right now. And I hope I've done one thing in all my life to make her dreams come true.

However, it's also so bittersweet. What will happen once she does bear my child? Our little tea meetings will end, I'll never touch her again, never experience both the peace and the excitement of having her fingers run along my skin.

I don't want this to end. I can't let this end. I can't lose her again.

please don't copy my work, or publish it elsewhere without my consent. all banners are from pinterest.

[laddelulu30]

This is my first ever post. Be kind but be honest

Synopsis: Christmas themed, soft Sylus smut

Tags: small plot, female reader x Sylus (dragon daddy), poc reader implied, cunnilingus, vaginal creampie, foul language, soft(ish) smut

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: This original piece is for @hesprisms I tried to keep this as romantic as possible as my understand for soft smut. I hope you like it, pookie. I also have to formally apologize since I went way passed the closing date. Holidays got a little hectic for me. I did my best despite my... preferences. I hope I did you proud. This work for the Secret Santa Fic Exchange event by @nanamiscocksleeve

Dividers by:@jiyascepter; @adornedwithlight ; @cafekitsune

Sylus image by: IG: @botsandmod.ig

Twinkling Lights

It’s been 2 years since you moved in with Sylus in the N109 Zone. His place was massive, too much room for just two people, well four if you counted Keiran and Luke. But they often came and went. So they didn’t really count. An entire apartment complex bought out because Sylus liked his space and wanted to keep his treasure secure. Whatever that meant.

With a sigh and a shiver, the elevator dinged open. Your arms full groceries, I walk into the penthouse. Sylus comes walking down the steps.

“You know I could’ve just called to have them delivered” his deep voice smooths over my skin like silk. I shiver as I put the bags on the counter. And it’s not because of the cold weather outside. I’ll never get used to the way my body reacts to his voice.

“Baby, it’s fine. I Like going out and moving about,” you defend, taking everything out of the bags. Beginning to put them away. You’re so locked in to putting everything away that when you finish, his arms wrap around you. And it causes you to jump. “Oh!”

“Sweetie” his lips skitter along your neck as he inhales your scent, his voice almost drawing the word out, “Do you miss being a Hunter that much? If you need something to keep you occupied, you can pick up boxing or simply do physical training with me?”

You shiver again, and this time, he notices. He pulls away slightly to get a look at your face, concern itching his beautiful face.

“ Are you cold? You’re shivering,” he says.

“ No no I’m fine,” you defend, doing a double take at his appearance, “Baby, your hair. Your horns are out. What happened?”

He chuckles, “ I know my hair is longer than what you’re used to. I can cut--“

“ No!” you say quickly, swallowing before talking again, “It looks great. I like it”

He smirks, probably picking up how your heart sped up every time you looked at his ashen white hair that was now long enough to stop in the middle of his back. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Your horns. Did something happen?”

“No. it’s nothing to worry about. I promise,” he says, waving dismissively.

Your gaze Narrows but you don’t press.

“Are we putting up a Christmas tree?” you ask, hopeful.

“is that what you want to do?” he says, chuckling.

“ yes, I’d really like that. Even if we don’t have presents to put under the tree, I still want to put one up. You know with the whole tree topper and decoration and everything.”

He wraps his arms around your waist again, resting his face in the crevice of your neck. You do your best to keep your heart from galloping in your throat.

He chuckles, “ Alright, I’ll grab the decorations and we can decorate together, sound fun? ”

You nod, your stomach knotting.

He places a quick kiss on your forehead before disappearing back upstairs. You try to calm down your galloping heart, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

You lay your coat and scarf on the sofa, bending down to take off your shoes and place them by the front door.

You walked back to the bare Christmas tree. A peculiar white tree with red frosted tips.

Leave it up to Sylus to get something almost no one else has in their home.

Moments later, he comes walking down the stairs with two packing boxes.

You jump up to help.

“I’ve got it sweetie just stay by the tree” he says, softly his voice warm like milk and honey, gentle.

You stand by the unique tree, awkwardly. Patient. Waiting.

Anxious energy coils in your stomach again.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetie?” he frowns” setting the boxes down in front of the tree.

Hastily, you grab for one of the flaps of the boxes, opening it to start decorating the tree. Trying to find something else for your mind to focus on.

Several minutes, maybe hours of silence pass. As you and Silas decorate the tree you pick up a velvet red box.

One you hadn’t seen before.

“Um....Sylus”

“Open it,” he says gently, abandoning decorating the tree as you become his sole focus.

You open the box and a light, small, eliminates the most breathtaking ring you’ve ever seen, nestled in the foam. A black ring with three big rubies encrusted in the band, surrounded by many small emerald green gems.

You look up, eyes snapping to his face. Your heart sinks into your gut as he looks at you, hopeful.

But he’s observant and picks up the shift in your mood quickly.

“You.. don’t look happy,” he says quietly.

“N-no I am. It’s just..” you start trying to find the words as your stomach knots, and your throat feels like it’s closing up.

“What’s wrong?” he says gently.

“I don’t know.. how to tell you, if you’ll be excited... or if you’ll”

“Sweetie, just tell me” he urges gently.

“Well,” you swallow thickly “While I was out, I went to the clinic to do a quick test because I hadn’t been menstruated in 2 months. I was worried something was wrong. But they told me.... I’m pregnant”

Silas doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. The silence is deafening except for the crackling of fire in the fireplace.

He finally breathes “You’re pre-- we’re gonna have a baby?”

You nod.

“Do you want to have a baby? Because you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I’ll be sad, but it’s your decision to make. Ultimately it will be your body that has the bare the consequences.. ”

You swallow “I want to have this baby with you. Do you want to..?”

“Sweetie, nothing would make me happier than you becoming my wife and the mother of my children,” his gaze darkens

“Children,”you squeak.

“Only if you’re open to the idea,” he takes the box out of your hand, taking out the ring and placing the box on the sofa.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there,”you laugh nervously as he slides the ring on your ring finger.

He nips that finger with his sharpened teeth, causing you to let out a low hiss.

“Kitten, you didn’t answer my question?”

“What was the question?” you blink, momentarily stunned as a persistent fire licks at you from the inside.

“Will you marry me?” he chuckles, his voice deep and husky.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice breathy from your arousal.

“Well wife,” he says endearingly, pulling you into his arms bridal style “As much as I want to ravage you under the Christmas tree, that wouldn’t be good for your back. Nor for the baby. So let’s go upstairs and we can finish the decorations tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you whisper breathless.

“My lovely wife,” he grinned his Ruby eyes bright with happiness “I will savor you tonight, so try not to pass out on me.”

“What?” you squeak.

“My dragon could smell that you were with child. I simply wanted to wait until you were willing to tell me yourself.”

“So, I was nervous for no reason?”

“Not quite. Children are a big responsibility. I wouldn’t have faulted you, had you chosen to wait a little longer. I wanted you to tell me when you felt ready. I wasn’t expecting you to say it right after my proposal though,” he laughs, walking up the stairs to your shared bedroom with you carried in his arms like something precious.

“But I’m happy you told me. Your pheromones were driving me mad,” his voice deepened.

“You could smell that?”

“Darling, I could smell you getting aroused as soon as you saw my long hair and horns. I just didn’t say anything.”

“You jerk,” you laugh, mock hitting his shoulder.

He gets to your shared bedroom and lays you gently on the bed leaving the door open.

“The door. What if the twins--”

“They know better,” he says, his voice rough with desire.

Sylus peels off his shirt, kicking off his shoes and socks. He reaches or your oversized sweater and your hand clenches tightly down on it.

His eyes look to your face, brightening with understanding his gaze and voice soften, “Show me.”

Still hesitant, you hold on to the hem of the sweater, his grin widened and he removes your pants flinging them away without looking

“Kitten, you’ve gone weeks without letting me touch you. Smelling your arousal without letting me help. Driving me mad with desire. Please don’t deny me this. I want to see you. To taste you. Claim you,” he runs his nose against your inner thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin, making you whimper softly. He begs in a soft voice “Please.”

Relenting, your fingers let go of the sweater and he pulls the sweater over your head, your breasts bounce free. They’re in a larger size bra than they were before and a small baby bump is seen.

“Is this why you wouldn’t shower with me? Wouldn’t share the bed with me?” he plants fervent kisses along the underside of your belly, rubbing the pads of his thumbs softly along your pebbling nipples.

“Yes, “ you whisper, your breath hitching.

“You are beautiful, kitten. There’s no reason for you to be nervous to show me your body. Our baby is growing inside your body, understand?” he says gently, licking and nibbling back down to your inner thigh.

He lifts your legs by the underside of your knees, hooking them over his shoulders. He dives his face between your thighs, rubbing his nose along the damp material of your panties.

“Wait, Sylus--” you pant in protest, but his lips close over your panty-clad core.

You yelp in surprise, your hands flying to his hair as the other hand braces against the bed.

“Fuck. You smell divine, “ he growls, humming after coming up for air, “You taste even better. ”

“Sylus!” you gasp, fire spreading in your veins.

“Sorry, kitten, you deprived me. Starved me of eating this pussy. I’m hungry, and nothing is going to stop me from feasting on you,” a growl rumbles in his chest as he hooks his teeth on your panties and slides them down your legs before diving back to your weeping core.

Lapping at you hungrily like a starved man savoring his last meal.

A string of cusswords rip from your throat as he feasts. Teeth and tongue alternate between which one skates across your folds and your electrified bundle of nerves.

“Sylus, please,” you beg, a climax cresting quickly.

“No need to beg, kitten. I’ve got you,” he pants, doubling his efforts.

“I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be. I’m simply reminding you how much you mean to me and how much I’ll always adore you no matter how much your body changes.”

You explode on his tongue, and he doesn’t change his nor his tempo, dragging you roughly through your climax.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you’ve climaxed three more times since the first one.

“Sylus...” your voice is hoarse from screaming your release, but it doesn’t seem like he plans to stop anytime soon.

“I’ve got you, kitten. One more,” he says, sucking on your swollen and oversensitive nub as he slowly sinks one finger into your pulsing heat.

“I can’t,” you weep, your thighs shaking from the strain.

“Yes, you can,” he coos encouragingly.

Pulling his fiendishly talented tongue away, he curls that one digit over the spot that makes you squeal. Your world shatters, stars dying behind your eyes, blinding.

“See? You did so good,” he says, slowly pulling his finger from your quivering heat.

You pant, trying to catch your breath. He grasps one of your ankles, kissing and nipping at it adoringly.

He stands, grinning wickedly, whispering, “We’re done yet.”

He carefully, gently, changes your body’s position. On your hands and knees. He rubs your skin, spreading you open.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he groans low, appreciatively, rubbing his hot and hard length through your soaking wet folds.

“Sylus, please..... I’m tired,” you beg weakly.

“I know, sweetie,” he croons, “One more, then I’ll make sure you’re pampered in the bath like the queen you are, okay?” he says.

He doesn’t give you a chance to voice your opinion before he pushes fully into you, seated deeply to the hilt. You scream.

“Already? Wait for me, kitten, ” he smirks, then starts moving.

A determined and purposeful pace. He thrusts deep, desparately chasing his own release through pounding through your squishy walls.

More string of curses from you.

“Just a little longer, kitten,” he encourages, his voice strained, “Ahh, fuck, you feel so good for me, so soft and hot.”

With one more deep and determined plunge, he cums with a groan string of curses and prayers, his hips jerking weakly as he shoots rope after rope of it, his cum coating your walls. His muscles twitch and flinch.

After catching his breath, he slowly pulls out, your body releasing him with a wet and sloppy pop.

“You did so well, kitten,” he says, kissing the back of your head before going to the bathroom to run you a bubble bath.

When the water is done, he comes back to retrieve you. He picks you up and gently places you into the water.

“Is the temp okay?” he says sweetly, his gaze watching for any twitch or frown you may make.

“Yeah,” you whisper, hoarsely.

“Did I hurt you?” he says softly.

“No, you did go a bit overboard but I can’t really complain because it felt really good. I know I’ll be a little sore afterwards though,” you blink, smiling sleepily.

“I’ll make you some hot cocoa, sound good?” he offers.

You nod.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he disappears downstairs to make your drink. He returns a short time later with your hot cocoa in a ceramic mug of a snow man wearing a scarf and mittens with two giant marshmallows floating in the chocolate goodness.

“Here ya go, sweetie,” he hands you the mug.

“Thanks, baby,” you say, taking the mug and taking a sip, “You always make the best hot cocoa.”

He smiles and waits for you to take a few more sips before he takes the mug and then leave the bathroom to sit the mug on the nightstand next to the bed.

You start to protest.

“You’ll get more after I pamper you,” he says, and starts to bathe you with all your favorite smell goods like body wash, body scrub and water safe body oils that you use.

After letting you soak for a while, he let’s the water out and rubs oils and lotions into your skin, pat drying your skin before helping you get into your lavender satin pajamas.

He picks you up and puts you against the pillows, pulling the cover back and tucking you in.

He hands the cocoa back to you, “I’ll take a shower and when I come back, we can snuggle and watch a movie, okay?”

He kisses your forehead and you nod, smiling dreamily.

You drink your cocoa, waiting for him to return, but you fall asleep. The empty mug resting on the small baby bump.

Sylus returns from his shower and smiles at the sight of you.

“Rest well... my wife,” he says, whispering warmly before taking the mug into the kitchen and starting the dishwasher.

He quickly returns to the bedroom, getting into bed with you, nuzzling between your legs so his face rests against your belly. Rubbing circles on the small bump, lovingly.

“I can’t wait to meet you, little one. Try not to stress your mom out too much. She’s a sweat heart and will be a very important person to us both,” he whispers into your skin before gently moving so that he cocoons behind your sleeping body, wrapping his arm firmly around you and pulling you up against him.

His chest presses against your back as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck as you both sleep, relaxed and spent, deep in bliss.

~The End~

copyright: original written by @laddelulu30 this is my only account. If you see my work anywhere else, please let me know. Otherwise, if you made it to the end, leave a like and a comment.

[neallo]

okay, so, i decided to make a 2024 wrapped after all. i constrained myself to works which are complete, and which i wrote on my own. i also tried to avoid including fics that are part of a wider series, and focused on standalone stories, though there is one exception.

2024 was a wild year for me! i posted / updated 53 works, and wrote 158k words. yesterday (12/25) was two years since i posted my first fic for mello/near. in those two years— and especially throughout 2024— the death note fan community has come to mean more to me than i could have ever predicted. i'm excited to keep writing and sharing my work with you all in 2025 (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

a world transformed

near POV; no kira, wammy's era

F/F | rated T | 1,700 words

In which a gift transforms the way Near understands the world.

the frost

mello POV; post-explosion kira investigation

M/M | rated T | 1,620 words

“So?” Mello shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Brushes his wrist against the handle of his gun, just to remind himself that it’s there. “What the hell do you want?” Near smirks. “Who said I wanted anything but your company?” He twirls a strand of hair around his finger. The gesture is so familiar that it makes Mello’s chest ache. “Perhaps I wished to spend time with an old friend. It’s been a long while, hasn’t it?” Mello scoffs. “Oh, is that what we are?” A tilt of Near’s head. His smile skews, bafflingly, a bit more genuine. Bizarre little bastard. “Isn’t it?”

THE END IS NEAR

near POV; post-explosion kira investigation

M/M | rated T | 1,725 words

So here they are now, in the middle of the bible belt with a disposable camera and an unspoken agreement to ignore the elephant in the room. Or— elephants, plural, because there are a whole host of things they aren’t discussing. The Kira case is one, and maybe the biggest, but they also haven’t talked about Mello’s photo or the words on the back of it, and Near hasn’t dared to voice the question that he keeps asking himself:  Why am I here?

august 18, 2010 (two-hundred days)

near POV; post-kira, mello lives

M/M | rated M | 1,650 words

Near is sitting in his office. He is sitting at his desk in his office, which is also Mello’s office, because they share one, now. Mello is under two meters away from him, sitting at his own desk and glaring at his backlit monitor like he wants to kill it. This has been their status quo for about seven months. Near knows the exact figure— two-hundred days— but he usually avoids acknowledging that he knows it, even in his own mind. Having this information on hand feels slightly illicit, because he knows the only reason he recalls the duration of their professional partnership with this degree of precision is because of what happened immediately before it began.

starving

mello POV; post-kira, mello lives

M/M | rated M | 2,720 words

Near is hungry. No— not hungry. Near is famished. He’s starving. Mello can see it in the pronounced pallor of his face, the dullness of his eyes. In life, he could go for a day and a half without eating and barely notice. It wasn’t good for him, but he could do it without issue. In undeath, he is not so resilient.

to have & to hurt

near POV; wammy's era to post-kira

M/M | rated E | 7,000 words

Five times Mello is harsh with Near, and one time he is very tender.

compromised

near POV; pre-explosion kira investigation

M/M | rated E | 2,850 words

The door has only just shut behind them when Mello slams him against it, forcing the air from Near’s lungs in a painful wheeze. Hands fisted in white fabric, he gets right up in Near’s face. It is meant to be frightening, menacing, but more than anything Near finds it nostalgic, really. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Mello hisses. Near blinks, feigning innocence. “Visiting.” — In which Near finds both Mello’s base and a suitable compromise.

good boy

near POV; post-kira, mello lives

M/M | rated E | 5,350 words

Mello’s stare is warm and constant, and the comforting exhilaration of it builds and builds within Near until he feels like he may burst. There is something he wants to say to Mello, but he doesn’t know what it is. Before he can ever say anything at all, though, Mello stands to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. Before he goes, he gives Near two lists. One for the night. One for the next morning. Near always follows them to the letter. — In which Mello and Near form a dom-sub relationship centered entirely around shared meals and to-do lists.

one in the same

near POV; post-kira, mello lives

M/M | rated E | 3,500 words

“Fuck,” Mello whispers. His hands shake against Near’s chest. “Good boy,” Near repeats, experimental, smiling as he watches Mello’s eyes flutter shut again. “The very best.” A small frown tugs at Mello’s lips. Near tries to kiss it away, but it lingers. He still has work to do.

we'll pretend it ends tomorrow

mello POV; no kira, post-wammy's

M/M | rated E | 5,775 words

“What’s happening?” Near asks. “I’m not sure,” Mello says. “I think we might’ve been kidnapped.” Near makes a soft sound of disapproval. Mello bristles at this, because it sounds like Near is mad at him over their abduction, even though it’s obviously not Mello’s fault. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he reminds himself that Near is probably feeling super-scared and vulnerable, and that, considering the situation, he may not be thinking through the potential implications of the sounds he’s making. He probably didn’t mean for it to seem accusatory. -- A dire situation tests Mello and Near’s ability to work together, bringing out the good, the bad, and the intensely sexual.

[whatdidtheydotomygirljinx]

Why Episode 7 is the worst episode in all of Season 2.

This fuckass Timebomb ship is the worst thing to ever happen to Jinx's character.

Ok so finally we're gonna talk about Boy Savior Complex and AU Girl Next Door Powder

This is gonna be long. Also, we're not only talking about Episode 7 and Timebomb, we're also discussing Jinx's suicide attempt and how her character's resolution is actually really sad.

First of all, Jinx never liked Ekko back. Season 1 makes it pretty clear that they're friends, and that Ekko has an unrequited crush on her. His feelings are clear, but she never shows any reciprocation. And, no, the art book that came out after season 2 concluded doesn't count. You can't just put "the boy with the unrequited crush" trope in your story and then retract it.

And now to get to the serious part... who the fuck is AU Powder?

Ekko gets transported into this alternate timeline where we the audience soon realize everyone is happy and none of the conflicts that plague the original story exist and everything is perfect and "as it should be". So this is the ideal world and the one where all these characters reach their highest form of happiness. Even Silco is back with Vander.

And in this ideal world Powder is... a waitress at The Last Drop? I rewatched this episode and I genuinely tried to pay attention to see what does she actually DO. Like what occupies her time in this universe. And between Vander's line about how she's "too smart to be spending her life in a bar" and the fact that she is at one point behind the counter (while Ekko is studying his books... imma get back to that) and the fact that we never see her in any other places besides the bar and her hideout and that one time Ekko takes her out... this seems to be it.

So in the perfect timeline, Powder has decided to stay back with her family once she's grown up, to remain with Vander and help him run his bar, and implicitly has no big ambitions of her own, and definitely no ideas that she would sacrifice her family life for.

Now... Powder/Jinx as a family person is not actually wrong characterization. This is pretty congruent with her character in season 1. Her entire story and literally everything revolves around her family and not much else. When she's Powder she's attached at the hip to Vi and when she's Jinx she doesn't seem too interested in the world outside of her hideout and Silco's office. So considering all we know, yes, Jinx does place family first.

And this is pretty assumed by the show. Now, I also characterized her like this in season 1! She is a family girl. And Jinx happens to have all these people with big revolutionary ideas around her, be it Vander or Vi or Silco or Sevika, but she herself never actually seems much interested in that. She has a small moment in arc 1 of season 1, which i think it's significant to mention comes right after Vi plants the idea in her head. It would've been one thing if these ideas stayed with her, but post time-skip she doesn't bring anything like that up again. She mostly acts like a bored teenager whenever Silco drags her to the river to tell her all about his tragic past that radicalized him. Overall, any time she exhibits any revolutionary spirit, it seems to actually be more of a personal vendetta for her.

So, okay, Jinx is a family girl and she's never really actually been about all these big ideas, I can agree with the writers that this represents her character.

It's just that... this much?

Man, COME ON. There were people making "Everything's Perfect" AUs since season 1, and they almost all had Powder be a student at the Academy. This girl was clearly passionate about her little inventions, her bombs didn't work but she kept and kept trying. You're telling me she would be completely uninterested in learning more about engineering, in getting a formal education in that, in doing anything with it? Since in this world, there's peace between Piltover and Zaun, we can't talk about any barriers to her becoming a student. And, for that matter, in League lore there's an academy in Zaun, too, that she could have attended.

Even Ekko points it out, man. Now, to the writers' credit, the story acknowledges quite clearly that Powder choosing to stay with Vander and help him run the bar is weird. It just... never explains it. Like why is she like this, though? Let's throw out some possibilies:

(1) in some scenes, there seems to be a little "jinxiness" in this Powder, too. maybe she's aware of that side of her, and doesn't like it, and fears that if she went off and did what she wanted, and was truly herself, it would ruin what she has, "things are good now" (in this case, this Powder is actually a tragic character. nowhere near ideal timeline stuff.)

(2) in act 1 of season 1, the reason Vi makes Powder stay back is because she fears losing her, after Vander tells her that she might lose Powder in a confrontation with Piltover. since Vi dies in this universe, on a job, maybe in that moment Powder internalizes that rocking the boat in any way is bad. Vi was spirited and had big ideas and wanted to be someone and it led to her death. so maybe this Powder gave up on all of that then. Vander seems like the type to give her a "look what happens" speech, too.

But these are just my theories. This doesn't ever get properly explained in the show. So then maybe Powder is actually content like this and likes this and maybe these people constantly pestering her that she could do and be more are just annoying nuisances to her, same as Sevika is an annoying nuisance to Jinx in the original timeline (although there it makes significantly more sense).

(Also, why is Vi even dead in this universe? They could've easily found another way for Piltover and Zaun to make peace. Guess Jinx doesn't even get to be happy in the Perfect Timeline, goddamn, girl really is cursed after all.)

If you're gonna spend an entire episode on fix-it fanfiction that is supposed to pander to fans and give them, on screen, what they always wanted to see, why didn't we get grown up Powder in a cute academy uniform, being a top student and working on school projects and being loved by her professors cause girl was a prodigy.

Instead... this is Ekko in this universe, actually.

Ekko is the "big idea guy" and he's working on an entry to the innovations fair and he gets to be Heimerdinger's pupil. To her credit, this Powder still seems to be very smart, Ekko comes to her for help cause he can't actually build his invention alone. But she only uses her intellect to help Ekko. I always thought it would be Powder who would be Heimerdinger's pupil. Instead, here, she's hanging off Ekko's arm, and being all cute, as he discusses Important Stuff with Heimerdinger, stuff that she doesn't get to be privy to, but that she is expected to help them with anyway.

So AU Powder is this very smart girl who is helping her boyfriend build his entry for a contest because he can't actually do it himself but it's okay she'll help him of course and no he can take all the credit she doesn't want to be recognized or anything or to go to like University that would be crazy she's doing it cause she loves him and she's sweet like that and she likes to help others and she doesn't have any character traits that make her difficult she's just a cute funny and relatable down-to-earth girl and she pokes fun at Ekko but like in a loving way and she likes being a waitress and she'd rather be recognized for her dancing skills and................ I'm sorry.....................

So you're telling me Ekko gets transported into an alternate timeline in which his childhood crush who never liked him back is stripped of all her personality, has no goals or ambitions of her own and has no interests besides being his supportive girlfriend, is devoid of all the traits that might have made a relationship with her difficult, and despite the fact that she never showed interest in him in the original world, here she is head over heels for him, always acting all lovey-dovey with him and being nothing but a cute and affectionate puppy.

This is every little boy's with an unrequited crush dream right here. Man, Ekko won more than any other character in this show. And she's mentally ill, too! He's hit the jackpot. Y'all what the fuck am I watching.

I'm sorry but literally ALL I COULD FUCKING SEE WHEN I WAS WATCHING THIS STUPID DANCE SCENE was that in this universe Powder is a good christian girl who stays home with her dad and loves her boyfriend and is always happy to help WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS GOOD GIRL PROPAGANDA get this bullshit OFF my fucking screen I cannot fucking believe what I'm watching here

Moving on.

Ekko has hurt Jinx more than any other character in the show.

Physically speaking.

Ekko is the one who does this.

Which leads to this.

Which ultimately leads to this.

It has always confused me and it continues to confuse me why no one in this fandom treats Jinx being injected with shimmer as a big deal, when this is the worst thing that happens to her post episode 3. And it's a point of no return for her character, she can't undo this. And yeah I know everyone thought Shimmer Jinx was cool in season 2, but her being turned into a half-dead monster is not a good progression for her character. She also goes through agonizing pain in the process.

Singed agrees.

It's Ekko who forces Jinx between death and being turned into a half-dead corpse. It's actually insane to me that no one in the fandom considers this and that this is never brought up in the show. If they wanted Jinx and Ekko to be a thing, you'd think this would be a big deal in their relationship. Ekko has changed her irreparably, for the worse.

Idk, is the guy who beat you up and left you for dead really boyfriend material?

This is the first moment Jinx shows any interest in Ekko. Interesting timing.

I'm pretty sure she doesn't even mention his name post act 3 of season 1. She doesn't wonder about whether he's alright after the bridge fight (for that matter, neither does he). The first time when Jinx looks at him with any hint of affection is when she's standing on a ledge, ready to throw herself off.

Jinx has no one anymore at this point. Her old family is long gone. Silco is dead. Isha is dead. Vi has decided having a good time with Caitlyn is more important than her. This is Jinx at her lowest moment. Does she like him back or is he just the only one who showed up?

Ekko is a winner once again. His crush has been abandoned by everyone, and he is the only one left to comfort her. Luck like this is hard to come by. And of course, she's gonna be super impressed and touched by any sliver of affection now. Probably gonna look at him with big, grateful eyes, and see him as her savior. I'm disgusted.

By the way, this should have never been Ekko. If Vi was too busy with fucking Caitlyn, this should have been Sevika. Sevika is the only character who has known Jinx since she was a child, and who has been with her through every iteration. And she's the only character who has never cared whether she's Jinx or Powder or any other persona she decides to take up, to her she'll always just be an annoying kid. And to Jinx this might actually be comforting. Sevika is the only one who has a realistic perspective on Jinx, and recognizes her flaws, so her talking her down might have actually been very touching, and there are things she could tell her that neither Vi nor Silco could.

(The fuck could Ekko tell her, honestly? That he went off to an alternate universe where she was his perfect girlfriend, so she shouldn't kill herself actually? What the fuck.)

I also wanna talk a bit about Jinx's resolution as a character. Not her fake-out death, but her in the last episode. I think it's interesting that everyone who had a connection to Jinx is gone, namely Silco and Isha. Silco and Isha are both people she chooses, actively, and she is herself around. Instead, now, she's back to Vi and Ekko, the same people that were with her in her childhood. This is a full circle moment for her.

This is Powder right here, guys. Powder was a little girl who made a mistake and then she went off on this journey where she met new people and she was someone else and it was fun for a while but ultimately she realized what she was doing was bad and she came back to her family and is ready to be that little, sweet girl again. The problem with the Powder-Jinx dichotomy is that Jinx, as much as she represents all this bad stuff that the show has made clear, also represents Freedom and Power, two things that Powder definitively lacked. Her coming full circle, coming back to Powder, is not actually a good resolution for her. She's right back where she started, with Vi and Ekko. Her venturing off on her own and making her own decisions was ultimately a mistake that only lead to her suffering. We can take this all the way back to when she decides to venture off on her own with that bomb, despite Vi's disagreement, and the consequences plague her for the rest of the story.

I know everyone thought it looked super cool when she lifted off that hood, but I could only think it was tragic.