#okay i will finally shut up now i've rambled enough

[awordsmith]

omitted thoughts 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which the tension between you and Spencer at work is almost too much to bare; lingering eyes and longing needs that are ignorant to the people around you, but all too easily perceived by the other.

who? spencer x bau!reader  when? s8  category: smut  content warnings: (maeve plotline does not exist, emily is still with the bau) munch spencer, tension here–tension there–tension everywhere, thorough foreplay (as in practically the entire fic), sexual acts, not too explicit, no dom/sub really mentioned–though spencer is a little more confident, proofed! reid with pleasure...  word count: 11.4k a/n: munch spencer as per requested by an anon!! this one has been in my filing cabinet for a while, so i'm glad i've finally gotten to write it out... also, new format–hey! okay i'll stop rambling... enjoy!!

There is a moment in every person’s life when they just know something sinister is about to unfold. That feeling found its way to you the exact moment the mixup with the rooms happened. It was bound to occur, it wasn’t like it was inevitable–you of all people were accustomed. Though, to be particularly truthful, it wasn’t the mixup that strangled your thoughts, no, it wasn’t as trivial as that.

What had your heart racing–your mind running–was that you were paired with Spencer. You should have said something. You were sure Emily would switch with you in a heartbeat–she and Spencer got along well enough, that it wouldn’t be a favor at all. However, even with this knowledge, you kept your mouth shut.

It was something in your gut, something in the darkest parts of your mind that swayed the moral, logical side.

It was late and the dimly lit hall only had so much life. You noted the old, peeling, pee-colored wallpaper; red flowers straying to and fro–if you tried hard enough, you could almost picture how it must have looked like in its prime.

Spencer made no effort to talk and for this you were grateful. You hadn’t had the chance to get too close to him in the few months you’ve been with the team. You were new, but not unaccustomed–you had been transferred almost six months ago with the help of thorough recommendations and pure skill–though you never pulled rank.

Hotch seemed a nice enough dad-boss, Rossi gave the impression of a comedic uncle most of the time, Morgan took his role as the older brother, Emily and JJ were great mentors and you were thrilled to be working alongside them, and you found Penelope to be a strong aunt-like figure. Spencer, though, you weren’t too sure where he fell in the categories you had enlisted just yet. 

He was a great mystery, one you were keen to unravel little by little.

“Do you have a preferred side?” Spencer asked after completing a skim with his bedbug flashlight.

“No,” you glanced around the room, two queen beds sat adjacent to each other only separated by a mediocre bedside table. A home phone sat close to the bed nearest the door and a lamp sat closest to the bed nearest the AC and window. The old, red velvet curtains were pulled back in what you thought was meant to be a kind gesture. Nevertheless, for an unknown reason, it left a bad taste in your mouth. “But, I do think we should close those,” you sighed, setting your duffle bag in the only chair in the room.

Spencer set his things on the bed near the window. You began untying the curtain closest to the bathroom. A shiver crawled up your spine as the air around you grew dry, you were seriously hoping for hot water. You meant to throw Spencer a hopeful glance, praying he’d let you take a shower first–but your eyes caught his hands instead. He was working his sleeves back, unbuttoning them as quickly as he could.

His sweater vest had been discarded and now lay in a bunched-up pile near his suitcase. You found yourself tracking his every move. He didn’t take notice of your stare until after he’d untied the curtain and met it with the one you had undid. You swiftly averted your eyes and swallowed, finding your throat had gone dry.

You cleared your throat and pushed your hair away, giving Spencer nothing but back, “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to shower first.”

Seconds ticked by and he said nothing, only when you heard a bed squeak did you turn back around. Spencer took up a space at the head of his bed, watching you with a look you were sure you’d never seen cross his face, it was almost smug, but not in the normal sense of the word–as indescribable as it was, it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You weren’t too sure what it made you feel.

“Is–is that a yes?” Your face felt hot, and you wanted to slap your hands to it, knowing it’d cool down somewhat, but you forced your hands to remain at your side.

“Yeah, sure,” he quipped, his voice the complete opposite of what his eyes conveyed.

You nodded and hurried over to your bag, leaving it at the foot of your bed when heading into the bathroom, which is where you found it upon exiting. 

Spencer had pulled pajamas out, they were neatly folded beside him. “I’d wait a little before showering,” you frowned, “sorry, I must have been in there for ages,” your mouth lilted in a slight smile as you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and took up residence near the bedside table, “next time, just to tell me I’m taking too long, I won’t mind.”

He chuckled and you grinned, elated you finally were able to ease the unnecessary tension that had come over the two of you during your staring contest in the moments right before your shower.

“Seriously?” He sounded mirthful and when you looked up his eyes caught yours, your heart studded and you found your cheeks heating up again. He had an eyebrow raised slightly and the small smile that accompanied his expression gave off the impression he was teasing, “You’d be fine with me just walking into the bathroom while you’re in the shower?”

Your eyebrows scrunched together in slight confusion and you couldn’t help the awkward smile that wouldn’t leave your mouth, “I was just joking, Spencer, but–if I am taking too long you can bang on or yell through the door.

He nodded, looking away, “I–I know, I was just messing with you.”

“Oh, please,” you snorted and rolled your eyes, trying to crush the way your thoughts raced at the way you absolutely would not give a half a damn if he did. You pressed your hand to your cheeks for a few seconds before continuing to move things out of your bag, you were thinking about how to arrange them in the large chifforobe directly across from your bed. Did Spencer hav–you gasped and dropped an article of clothing as if it had burned you.

“That was not–” you scorned yourself, that was completely inappropriate. You blinked over a few times, thinking it would make the image disappear well from your mind, but it only served to intensify the phantasmagoria.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer was at your side after three blinks. Your eyes widened as he reached for your hands that were opening and closing, trying to grasp any control over yourself. 

You stood abruptly, unable to be in any sort of vicinity he was near. “I’m fine–I just, I remembered, I forgot something in the lobby. It must have fallen.” You shrugged, forcing a horrid excuse for a smile onto your lips. You left the room, heading straight for the elevator. You needed the cold-biting air of December to slap some sense into you, it was almost January, thus winter should have been approaching its peak right about now.

You have never–okay, yes, you’ve had small torrent thoughts of coworkers in somewhat unprofessional manners, but none had ever been so vivid–not like the one you had just then. As the elevator opened, you tried assembling the course of thoughts that had led up to the–the Spencer one.

It only took a few minutes for you to understand thinking about it was useless. There was no coherent explanation for the thought you had, no indication of any type of build-up that might have prepared you for the fabrication. 

“His eyes,” you heard yourself murmur as the elevator let you off onto the first floor. You ignored the receptionist whom you recognized from only a few hours ago. The glass door was as easily pushed open as it was to pull; the biting air hit your face and you sighed, relief allowing you to breathe once more.

His sleeves were rolled up, your arms laced around his neck as you pulled him against your flushed, exposed skin. You were nearly naked and all but begging him. You had it. His attention. Every single piece of it.

And you were relishing it as he fucked you against that damned chifforobe.

You were startled by the discovery of Spencer’s presence as he pushed open one of the glass doors of the hotel. The carpark was desolate save for the two of you and you felt more vulnerable than you had felt in the daydream.

“Hey,” Spencer lifted his hand slightly, sticking it back in his pocket right after as if he’d cringed at himself.

“Oh, hi,” you pressed your lips into a thin smile, squeezing your eyes so as not to give away the fact that you did not want him to be there.

“You–kind of ran off, I just wanted to make sure you were alright…” his eyes traced up and down your body as if in search of something. A slight smirk grazed his lips, but it was quickly replaced with a frown that felt a little too compelled, “did you find what you were looking for?”

“Nope,” you squeaked, rocking back and forth on your heels. You squeezed your hands together behind your back like you were in prayer or giving thanks, “sorry for bringing you out here, I thought I lost something important and overreacted.”

He didn’t acknowledge your answer immediately, though he did step forward and when he took another step forward, you were inclined to take a step back because you thought the proximity might prompt you to do or say something you definitely shouldn’t be doing or saying with a coworker. He raised his hand to your face, the back of his hand rested on one of your cheeks, your eyes shut on impact, your hands separated and were not fisted.

Your eyes opened when a few low chuckles escaped Spencer’s mouth, he huffed out a few more before pulling his hand back and using it to cover his mouth…watching you. His eyes held that same smug amusement that you’re sure you’ve never seen before this night.

You met his stare, noting that with the coverage of his hand, his expression was just a bit easier to read. Your lips settled into a thin line as you concluded he was messing with you. You cast an unbothered expression over your face, though you felt anything but. “I think the water should be hot enough now.”

Disregarding the moral obligation of waiting for a response, you headed for the hotel’s entrance.

The elevator ride-up wasn’t as tense as you would have thought it to be. You could feel a calm rest over each other’s company. It was almost like a mutual understanding that did not need voicing. Back in the hotel room, Spencer headed into the bathroom without a word, again, you found yourself grateful he decided to spare you.

Even so, you did find it just a bit peculiar because Spencer had never before taken on any particular interest in you, sure you shared conversations–that was to be expected though, as you worked with him. You shared meals and nights out, though only when it was a group thing.

To be sure he drew your curiosity, but you never once thought about indulging in your secret desire because it just never seemed right. This mixup had felt like a gift from God when it was first introduced, because now–you had thought–we’ll be forced to be around each other, no doubt we’ll grow somewhat accustomed to each other’s habits. 

Perhaps the thought was a bit excessive, but it was simply the truth to you. How else were you to casually approach Dr. Spencer Reid? The youngest to be scouted in his field?

Well, you now thought grimly, scratch all that, he’s just a genius with an ego.

You approached the chifforobe hesitantly, then hastily sorted your clothing in a few drawers and on a few hangers that were already there. As you set your duffle bag at the bottom of the large space, you heard the shower squeak off and Spencer called your name.

You rolled your eyes but walked toward the bathroom, calling from your side of the closed door, “what?” 

“I,” his voice cut off and just when you thought you had waited long enough, the bathroom door swung open halfway and Spencer leaned out. 

The first thing you noticed–though unintentionally–was the steam that hit you in the face. You squinted and waved a hand before you, “Jeez, Spencer.”

His face–his hair was wet and water dripped down his head–looked a bit painted, “I left my towel in my bag, get it for me?” 

He sounded genuinely displeased at the situation, which is why you huffed and replied, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he yelled, shutting the door again. You ignored the flip your stomach did and shivered. 

He had left his suitcase open, his things in a bit of disarray across the bed. You wavered only a moment before letting your hands fly up and down his things. His towel was quite easily discovered, though your eyes lingered on the rest of his things.

You stood and headed back toward the bathroom, knocking. Spencer appeared instantly, a smile spreading to his face. The steam had cooled somewhat, but the bathroom–you could tell–was still very much sauna-like. “Thank you.”

“You said that already.”

He raised a brow, his smile quirking, “thank you, again.”

He stole the towel and shut the door, leaving you standing there. You felt impulsive and thought there would be no way you could get through this entire trip by sharing a room with him. And yet, it was your job, and it would no doubt be questioned, you’d probably–by accident–allude to something that did not occur, and you’d both be in trouble for something so ridiculous: it shouldn’t even be a thought that crossed your mind when you looked at your coworker and yet–the bathroom door opened and Spencer walked out in only a towel–it did.

“What do you think you're doing?” You called from your bed, standing.

“It’s too moist in there, I won’t dry.” He replied as if it were a fact and not an atrocity.

“Yeah–but–” you bit your lip, eyes tracking up and down his torso, something you should most unquestionably not be doing.

He was bent over his things on the bed near the window, you turned your gaze on the floor when his eyes flickered to yours. “But what?” He paused, probably noting your expression, your pursed lips, and your unstill gaze. “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable I can go back in. I don’t want to–I’m sorry.” You swore you could hear a lilt in his voice when he began, but it quickly turned into something more…appropriate–like he just realized the embarrassment of what he was doing. He gathered his clothes again and headed for the bathroom, returning a few minutes later in damp garments.

And though his frown said ‘I’m sorry,’ his eyes said, ‘I’m going to give you hell’. And hell it was. For the rest of the trip, you could swear Spencer did…things purposefully. Such as lifting his shirt slightly to wipe his face when he got out of the shower, turning his neck just barely so that your gaze would catch on the exposed collarbone. You swore up and down that these were being done on purpose just to make you squirm because–because–well you didn’t really know why Spencer was doing all that. 

But you knew it was for you, that was about the only thing you knew to be fact. Your nose scrunched as you recalled the looks he’d given you after every purposeful act–in such a way that it seemed like he wanted to see your reaction–as if he gets off on it.

The jet ride home was no exception to Spencer’s antics, but by this time you had decided for yourself you’d had enough of falling victim to him. You concluded that there could only be one reason Spencer was acting the way he was: because he was attracted to you. You didn’t know why–hell you couldn’t even explain why you were attracted to him in that way–but it piqued your curiosity. If he had the ability to get you to react in such distinct and significant ways, what power did you have over him? That was the dispute you set out to ascertain.

At first, it was harmless, quiet jokes told only loud enough for the two of you to hear. When the jet landed again, you ran a hand through your hair and threw your head back, as if trying to stretch. Your eyes popped open just a few minutes later to find Spencer’s eyes eating up everything from your neck to your collarbone. When he met your eyes, they weren’t amused but rather accusing. He had fallen into your trap and he had just now realised. Some genius, you found yourself regarding him with an internal snort.

“We get the day off tomorrow, right?” Emily’s tone was mirthful, full of sarcasm.

“Yeah, right.” Morgan groaned.

Hotch grimaced, “See you all tomorrow.”

“At nine?” Rossi sounded hopeful.

Your boss sighed, eyes: rolling, but a smile etching itself onto his face, “At nine.”

Small victories, a sigh escaped you under your breath, small victories.

You headed for your car, rummaging through your purse for your keys. A presence loomed over you and you froze, Spencer’s hand lightly pressed against your back as he leaned over you and tilted his head downward, “See you tomorrow —…”

Your breath caught and you tried to swallow, but your mouth was dry. Was this real? Was this not the nerdy little geek you were told you’d be working with? The guy who kept getting kidnapped? The one who could barely hold a gun four years into working in the BAU?

He walked away, down the row of cars, looking for the one he owned.

Despite yourself, your lips curled into a sinful grin. You already loved this game. 

The next morning, you caught Spencer stepping into the elevator, “hold the door!” You threw your hand out, as you rushed your footsteps.

The elevator wasn’t crowded, but there were five others you did not know, and they were all men, so naturally you moved closer to Spencer. It wasn’t on purpose, but nor was it an accident, more of an instinct. His presence gave you peace of mind as you calmed yourself down.

“Rough morning?” He asked, appearing nonchalant.

You looked up at him as he took a sip of his coffee. The elevator came to a halt and two people shuffled into the elevator after three others left. Your floor was approaching and you felt easier–especially with the extra space–but when you stepped away, a hand caught your waist.

You followed the arm all the way to Spencer’s gaze, the expression there looked to be a mix of contemplation and confusion. His hand dropped when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He was the first to step out of the elevator, you were the fourth.

Penelope found you on her way to the roundtable, stating the others were already there. You followed her and took the only available seat in between Morgan and JJ. Spencer sat right across from you, between Emily and Rossi. When you caught his eyes, his head tilted slightly and a small smirk danced across his lips in the bright light. 

Your eyes rolled and you shifted one leg over the other under the table. 

Penelope read off the new case and while many questions were thrown out, you and Spencer kept playing the game of ‘who could make who more embarrassed’; though you both were incredibly refined at your job and were able to keep it from the insight of the others.

Hotch stood and said, “jet’s up in 15,” before rushing out of the room.

You stood as well, needing to collect all the things you might have left on your desk and turn in your report to Hotch you forgot. Rossi had followed your boss–it was probably something about Strauss, it always was whenever they acted like that. Emily, Morgan, and Penelope were having a conversation while JJ said something to Spencer and began a small exchanges. Your eyes were laser focused on her, you felt a sort of conviction fall over you. You didn’t think you were jealous, no–it was anything like that because you knew Spencer was only trying to get under your skin. Instead, you felt a sense of thrill and couldn’t help the smirk that edged its way onto your face as you floated right past them without batting an eye.

You heard his chair squeak as he leaned back, eyes trailing your figure as you exited the roundtable room. Upon approaching your desk you smacked your hands to your cheeks, helping them cool off while ignoring the chatter of the office. You searched your bag a bit until you found the documents you had been looking for.

You froze, you could feel his stare, but when you glanced around, you couldn’t find him anywhere. Your eyes narrowed as you sifted through each and every face, there–in the breakroom behind the glass… Spencer had one hand in his pocket and one holding a mug of coffee, his eyes anything but innocent. He mouthed something, but only when you noted the absense of your other team members were you able to put together his words. We’re leaving.

You met each other in the stairwell of the rooftop, you ignored the simmering in your chest as he veered over you and pushed open the door. He smelled good– god he smelled good. You forced yourself not the make it obvious you were trying to drink in and savor his scent when he let out a shuddering breath. Your eyes popped open–which is when you realized you had shut them. What is wrong with me? You allowed your eyes to track up his face, starting from his shoulders.

He was so close you could see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared you donw, mouth slightly ajar. His eyes were hazy and he wasn’t staring at you, but your throat. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. When he found your gaze again his jaw yet and he pulled himself together. His eyes were no longer dangerous, but they still set some kind of fear in you.

“We should go,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond until you began moving. He called your name only once, but when you looked back, a grin–small, but fucking there–destroyed his firm calmness from only moments ago, and replaced it with egotistical destruction.

There were so much said in that single expression and yet nothing at all that would have been picked up by a team of profilers, let alone a stranger–it was as if this look was designed specifically for you–designed just to become your undoing. You fucking hated Spencer Reid and his big ass ego, but you wanted him–by all hell you wanted him.

Though you’d soon find that wanting him was nothing compared to needing him.

The rest of the case came and went in a similar manner you had dreamt about the night before. You and Spencer shared lingering looks, murmured things in front of the team that, though made sense in the moment, his the underlying meaning only the two of you could pick up. You honestly found it surprising no one had caught on to what was transpiring between you and Spencer, although to be perfectly honest, you, yourself, had no idea what was transpiring between you and Spencer.

You didn’t seek each other out, but whenever you were together–alone or with others–there was this spark of craving you couldn’t quite explain out loud, and even when you thought about it, you didn’t know the right term for it other than a game. What else could it be? You couldn’t relly put togehter the events that had started it, but you knew it began sometimes on the 3-day case–maybe even that first night in the hotel. A shiver crawled up your spine, you watched Spencer out of the corner of your eye, reading. He could normally be found in the front of the jet, lying down and napping or reading.

When you were alone, all your thoughts revolved if not around the case at hand, Spencer. You didn’t want to compare it to an obsession, because what it really was was a little less of that and a little more of a desire to learn him. His body, his mind, his cravings and and fantasies. It was everything you had never felt and it scared you. There was no logical explanation to Spencer being the onset to these emotions, and yet if you’d never met Spencer, who was to say these feelings would have ever been unleashed?

It was late, but you were glad you were going to get to sleep in your bed two nights in a row. It felt like a blessing from the heavens, but then your realzied you’d have to see Spencer again tomorrow and go through the fervency all over again. Now, it felt more like irony.

Weeks of the same longing, the same wandering eyes, the same muttered whispers, the same damn game. Though you’d gotten used to your little gambit of brash actions, you weren’t tired in the least. It was–as sad as you had to admit–the most fun you’d ever had with a person.

It was fun until it became real. The team hadn’t caught on, but that was particularly due to the fact your efforts always occurred out of pure chance. You never made it obvious and he was especially good at hiding his feats, it seemed to you he was consistently able to accomplish his devious acts right under the nose of his superiors. 

You reasoned that it was perhaps because none of them would ever suspect him of any of the things he was taking up in his pastime. Not even yourself would have guessed he was like this if he hadn’t shown you, or if you hadn’t noticed the way his eyes always seemed to look the opposite of whatever his face was saying in the moment.

Despite all of this, however, you hadn’t touched–at all, no brush of the hands, no accidental shoulder bumping, nor anything on purpose; not since he’d grabbed your waist in the elevator that first day back at Quantico. The contemplation in his eyes then occurred to you at night. You tried to make out what it meant–to him at least, but never could. It was one of those thoughts that kept you up, staring at the ceiling, hoping exhaustion would so its job and prevent the misery that inveitable came without it.

Tonight, though, you didn’t know how you were going to fare against pretending to be with him. It was for the case–you kept reminding yourself as you changed into a little black dress. Everyone looked good in black, it was a color that also hid a person well enough in a club–perfect for an undercover agent.

The decision to have you go in with Spencer instead of JJ was his idea. Of course it was his. He’d proposed the switchup at the roundtable meeting that morning–and as soon as he had, you’d jolted in your seat. He’d continued talking, glancing at you now and then as if he’d actually believed the difference between you and JJ would matter.

Regardless, because you were closer in age–by only a few years, you’d wanted to remind everyone–it’d be more believable that you were together, he’d also dropped an “it’d be more comfortable that way”, which swayed Morgan and Emily, JJ kept silent during the entire tirade–though not angry, was incredibly, almost blatantly long. 

You couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but at the time you weren’t too much focussed on her, the looming fact that you’d have to touch him in ways you’d only thought about touching him to do your job? It terrified you. Not because you were afraid of acting out your fantasy–but because you weren’t sure if you could control yourself enoug to where it was just acting.

You slipped the dainty dress on and hid your gun and badge in your boots. You let your natural hair fall loose, but kept a hair tie on your wrist. Stepping out of the only bathroom in the police station you were currently residing in, holding your work clothes against your chest , you noted the imminent stares. Instinctively using your clothing to cover your thighs as you met the others in the front. Spencer kept his eyes in check–smart boy, you bit back a smirk–but the rest of the team complimented you, Hotch and Rossi having almost completely different ways of doing so, you snorted at the contrast. 

Spencer took the driver seat of a vehicle you were borrowing, the dark of a December night threatening to conceal the thing entirely. You gazed out the window, “they’re following us right?”

“Everyone will be outside and prepared.”

“I can’t believe this,” you sighed, throwing your head back.

“The fact that we’re going undercover or the fact that you have to wear that piece of cloth?” Spencer asked, though his manner was light, there was a rough undertone that heated your insides.

“I was wondering when you were going to bring it up,” you sighed carelessly, waving a hand, “I just thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“Everyone noticed.” The mask of his facade was slowly slipping away, revealing a much colder side to Spencer–one you had the pleasure of seeing more and more of the past three weeks than in all of the six months you’d been in the BAU.

“Yeah,” you smooth down the dress, “I wouldn’t normally wear this type of thing out unless I was looking to bring someone home.”

“Oh really?” You could practically hear his eyebrows raise. “You never wear things like that when we go out for drinks.”

“Precisely my point,” you quipped.

Spencer pulled into the club’s parkinglot. It took you less than five minutes to get inside. At first, you were sitting at the bar, but then, Spencer, with the earpiece attached to him, relayed the message from Hotch. Penelope had given everyone access to the inside of the club, they were watching you two through the cameras. You forced yourself not to glance at them–even the tiniest slipup could reveal you to the unsub, and you wanted them to target, not avoid you.

“They want us to dance.” Spencer sighed loud enough to where you could hear it over the noise.

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, because that’s exactly how the unsubs target their victims–didn’t we go over this in the profile? Your smile tightened as you spun and headed for the floor, crowded by so many–oh that’s not hygienic.

“Yeah, okay, maybe we skip this part,” Spencer grimaced from his palace beside you.

“You think?” You raised an unimpressed brow at the blurred figures in front of you.

He murmured something Hotch and they went back and forth a little, though you couldn’t hear exactly what was said, Spencer’s face of triumph was all you needed to breathe a sigh of relief.

You found yourselves hiding in the corner at the back, there weren’t many people crowding around you which made you perfect for the unsubs, though the appearance of them at this club tonight was purely based on instinct, gut feelings, and careful, calculated guessing, there was still a chance they wouldn’t show themselves.

You didn’t mean for it to happen like this, you were doing everything in your power to stay composed and in control, but some part of you–the defiant, terrible side of you–wanted so badly to see his reaction when you touched him.

His frame leaned over you, holding you against the probably dirty wall, the sensual music that played a heavy beat around you felt like an instigator. Sweat slipped down his neck and it drew your attention, all of a sudden Spencer tensed, then he relaxed slightly but it felt forced, “They have eyes on the unsubs.”

“How many,” You compelled your eyes to stay on his though they wanted to scour the area around you and find just exactly who he was talking about–which would be idiotic, of course.

“That’s right,” he swallowed–ignoring your question, your eyes caught his throat bobbing–he noticed. “Keep your eyes on me,” you nodded at his words, feeling your throat drying as you neglected the need to trace his collarbone with both your fingers and gaze.

His hair was a mess of damp curls and his face was barely visible in the bright, flashing lights, but you had a job to do–and yet here you were, gripping the collar of his shirt, brushing back the hair that fell in his face as he looked at you with those eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, “but if you aren’t up for this just tell me now.” His voice lilted at a challenge, but you heard the mumble ordered in the earpiece–by hell he could yank you hair almost completely out and you wouldn’t give a damn.

You held his regard with one of your own, eyes narrowed, “Just do it.”

And he did. But he also didn’t. His smirk narrowed ere leaning in. He gripped your face with an elephants strength and a swan’s gracefulness. You closed your eyes, waiting for his lips, but he swerved at the last moment and kissed the skin below your ear. He trailed a few kisses down your neck but stayed close to your hearing range, evidently, he was teasing–you wanted to scoff but couldn’t find it in you to make him stop.

“How’s this?” He murmured.

“You’re an ass,” you replied huffed, trying to mask a groan.

He grinned against your neck, “I know.”

The club case was the reason you and Spencer now ensured you were always together. From then on, you seemed to not want to be anywhere else the other wasn’t–or rather, you felt more comfortable with each other and couldn’t bring yourselves to leave the other alone.

Not that either of you minded and you still did your jobs perfectly fine–though there was more intensity when the other was in any sort of danger, it only propelled the one that wasn’t to learn how to do their job quicker. It was both a fast track to understanding how to adapt to constant situations that warped your idea of what was really going on. When he got something wrong–which was rare but not absolute. After about a month of this, you were starting to question what you were to him–what he was to you.

Though you still weren’t sure how to properly ask that question. You hadn’t slept together, though you thought about it all the time you weren’t at work…and perhaps sometimes when you were… Those thoughts slipped through on occasion–but it wasn't anything that hadn’t been transpiring before the club case.

It was as if the ‘who can make the other person more embarrassed’ game had been turned into the ‘what can I do to make you squirm this time’ game. Like the rules of the game had somehow intensified and touching was now allowed and despite all of the things that ensued upon the new rule instatement, you still had not taken it further than work.

It kept you up most nights, and you wondered when this cycle of what are we would end–if it would take one of you getting into a relationship–though you were sure Spencer didn’t have to worry about you in that department–and although you hated it, the fact was that Spencer was the only one you could think about. It was as if the man had ruined sex for you altogether. 

You fucking hated Spencer Reid–and that fucking chifforobe. 

Your heart dropped in your chest. You refused to give Spencer the satisfaction of looking over at him–though he seemed just as surprised as you. At this point anything could happen–and by anything you mean anything. Because anything would be better than having to share a room with him again. You were so tired you could barely recall what that even meant.

But then again, a small part of you whispered, this could be your chance. My chance? You scoffed, my chance at what? Making a fool of myself? Because confronting him means admitting I can’t stop–thinking about him. And that, to you, would feel like admitting defeat. It’d feel like losing the game–oh and you really felt like you were winning! Winning at what again? God, you needed sleep.

“Are you planning on getting in the shower first?,” he asked as soon as you were behind the door, away from prying ears and nosy coworkers.

You let out a heavy sigh and held your arms up to stretch, yawning–“honestly, I might just head to bed, it’s late and I could really use the sleep.”

“Have you not been able to sleep at night?” He set his things on the bed near the window as you claimed the one near the door.

“You have no idea,” you murmured, although a bit more to yourself than to him.

“Do you know why?” He seemed genuinely curious–but as you faced him, all you could think was, if only you knew.

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ and grimaced as you laid your back against the bed, arms spread like a starfish, your duffle bag discarded near your feet at the end of the bed.

You felt Spencer watching you, but for the first time in a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You quite literally had been running on nothing but coffee for the past day and a half–and you were in desperate need of some sleep–especially if you wanted to be at your best tomorrow.

“Here,” you hadn't heard Spencer approach you–you blamed his Hotch training. You cracked open an eye as he pushed you on your side. Your back burned at where he’d touched you, but it was quickly overshadowed when you heard him yank the bedspread down as hard as he could. “Come, on,” he huffed, pulling your shoes off and setting them beside your bag.

You forced yourself under the cover and snuggled, “the light?” you grumbled.

“First, your blazer,” he held out a hand. You whined but made quick work of ridding yourself of the fabric. “You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable–”

“Spencer.” You warned.

“Yeah, I hear you,” he reached for the lamp atop the bedside table–smaller than the one from the last hotel room you’d shared–the chifforobe near the window was smaller as well. He hummed as the thoughts faded in and passed through his mind.

Spencer found himself forgetting everything else as he sat in the bed opposite yours and leaned his arms on his thighs, watching you. A few minutes passed, but only when a knock sounded on the door did he realize he maybe shouldn’t be watching his coworker like a creep. Though, you weren’t really a coworker, were you?

Well–he meant you were–but you were also more than that, though he didn’t exactly know if your relationship had a name, he knew that it entailed things normal coworkers did not have. He knew what he wanted–but to outright say it felt like disrupting the sort of balance you’d gotten accustomed to–as if going out and actually attempting to take what he wanted would break the trance that had set over the two of you–it’d be throwing all the rule’s to the game away, and then what did either of you have left? Rules were important, if not necessary. He couldn’t chance it–not yet at least.

“Hey, oh,” Morgan tried looking around the room.

Spencer felt his eyes roll as he stepped into the hall and shut the door slightly behind him, careful not to shut it completely as he didn’t have the key card and he didn’t want to wake you up. “Yes?”

Morgan nodded behind him, “she’s asleep?”

“She’s really tired,” Spencer affirmed.

“Right,” his eyes fell back on Spencer, and for a second, he thought Morgan might be analyzing his form.

“Was there something you needed?” Spencer pressed, eager to head back into the room, unpack his suitcase, and head to bed himself.

“Ah, no, we were just going to order food–but I guess you don’t want anything either?”

“Uh, no, but thanks for asking.”

“Uh-huh,” Morgan once again glanced behind Spencer, whose irritation at the suspicion was steadily increasing.

“She’d not dead,” Spencer stated, though he meant it as a joke it came out rather harsh.

“Alright, pretty boy, I didn’t say she was.” Morgan chuckled, patting Spencer on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

Spencer made quick work of unloading his things, he thought about getting in the shower but feared it’d wake you. Instead, he debated on whether or not he should leave your things in you bag or do you a favor and put them away. He didn’t want you to consider him a snoop, especially with how you’d been looking at each other the past few weeks–and that undercover case.

His heartbeat picked up, and he couldn't stop thinking about it–it was the thing he fell asleep to at night; it was gradually eating away at him, and he couldn’t deny the way his body tensed whenever he recalled the image of you under the flashing array of lights–how you’d looked so…submissive.

He hastily shoved that thought to the furthest corner he could find in his mind and headed for your bag. He didn’t want to be brash with the way he put your clothing away, but he also didn’t you to wake up while he was holding your underwear–then he’d truly feel like a creep. 

He was halfway done when you mumbled something; he froze and he could feel the thump of his heart in his chest. Though it was still winter, he’d begun to sweat and had set his glasses aside because they kept sliding off the bridge of his nose. He’d been wearing them more often than not for the past few months as he’d found them to be a particular fascination of yours. It was now that he squinted and moved his hand around for them.

His footsteps carried him quietly across the room, near your bedside. “—?” He whispered and when you failed to respond, lifted a tentative hand to your cheek–though just before the pads of his fingertips met your skin, you mumbled something again–and this time, he could hear it. He fisted his hand and used the bedside table to hold himself up, and although he couldn’t see them, he knew his hands were turning white with how hard he was squeezing them.

Again. He wanted to hear it again–his prayers were answered as you shifted slightly, tugging the cover up to your neck. Skimming down your person, he bit his fist and tried to calm himself down. Again. He needed to sit down, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He felt it twitch–he needed to walk away right now. And he did, but instead of picking up where he’d left off with your clothing, he headed for the bathroom, not bothering to turn the light on as he shut himself in complete darkness.

Images of you, your stolen glances, and desperate touches filled his mind. He was particularly focused on the tired way you slurred his name in your sleep. He wondered what kind of dreams you were having, what you were picturing as you said his name like that. He muffled his groans as he stroked himself, using his fist to bite back anything that might escape the small confines of the washroom. His thoughts of you were possibly the only thing he allowed himself to go to extensive lengths with. His mouth watered at the mere concept of you and your twisting legs. He’d done this a considerable amount of times before–but this was the first time you were so close– a hairsbreadth away.

It felt both right and wrong, and yet the lines began fading into oblivion as he came closer to climax.

He whimpered into his hand just as he came. It was odd, he didn’t too much feel like a creep after he cleaned himself up, but upon washing his hands profusely and returning to put your garments away, he was once more–afraid of what you’d think if you caught him messing with your things.

Although a part of him felt it might have been because he wanted you to find him in that state, he tried rationalizing–but the more he thought about it–even as he now rested his head against a pillow–the more he found that ‘might’ to be absolute truth. 

You woke up to the smell of coffee. You stretched, yawned, and pried your eyes open. Rolling onto your side, you found Spencer devouring a book, his glasses at the tip of his nose. You smiled, thinking you were dreaming–but then his eyes shifted over to yours and your smile fell, you quickly understood this Spencer was real–oh no–your cheeks burned from last night's delusions. “Good morning,” he smiled. You groaned and sat up, your hands finding your cheeks, “what time is it?”

“It’s around six, you have,” he checked his watch, “an hour and thirty minutes, Hotch wants us ready before eight.”

You huffed and threw yourself back against the pillows. New Years had come and gone and you hadn't even celebrated...though, your mind with all the ways you could make up for it–you shook the thoughts away, now was not the time.

Five minutes later you were searching for your clothing, but your bag was practically empty, “did you move my things?”

Spencer choked on his coffee, “ah–yeah,” he motioned toward the chifforobe. You glared at it as he said, “It’s small, so some of our things are mixed, but you should be able to find whatever you’re looking for easily.”

“Thank you” You appreciated his simple act of affection, it made your chest ache.

“Yeah, sure.” Despite going back to reading his book, Spencer snuck small glimpses of you from the corners of his eyes.

As the hot water ran down your back, you found yourself thinking of Spencer, just a few feet away, you were practically naked and he could walk in at any moment, you felt an ache between your thighs, but you shrugged it off–or at least you tried to.

You hadn’t had sex since that incident with Spencer a few weeks ago. You tried–by all God did you try–but you just couldn’t It led to a few arguments with the guys you’d taken home–and your credit, you did feel just a little bad. All the same, you simply couldn’t seem to get him out of your mind. It was like he was mocking or watching you every time you attempted it–he was that tiny, little voice in the back of your head feigning disappointment, saying you wouldn’t purge the sexual frustration unless it were him. Though you were a saint at keeping it hidden, your agitation only built.

The day was more or less: “Spencer, what do you see?” from Hotch and “—, if you were the unsub…” from Morgan. Penelope was on call a few times and you were so close, but it had grown late and you needed sufficient unwinding. After a group dinner in the hotel lobby that primarily consisted of takeout and the small meal provided by the hotel staff, you headed up to your room. Spencer stayed to grab one last cup of coffee before the staff closed the mailroom for good. Thus, with your alone time, you decided to wash off all the griminess of the day.

You were drying yourself with a towel when you heard him enter, “I’m almost done,” you shouted, “I think there’s still some hot water left.”

His lack of response piqued your curiosity. You threw your clothing on once you were mostly just damp and yanked the door open. You were pulling your hair back into a ponytail when he looked up. He’d just set his cup of coffee on the table near the lamp, which now that you noticed, was the only light that lit up the room, he had turned the big llight off.

“You okay?” You rubbed your face, dropping your hands to your side right after, “did you hear me?”

“No, sorry,” he frowned, “I wasn’t paying attention.” He stood.

“Oh, I just said–if you wanted to get in, there’s still hot water left.” You thrust a your thumb behind you.

“Ah, thanks.” You nodded and pursed your lips. “So, what book were you reading this morning?” You took up the spot Spencer had just abandoned.

He turned and watched you–filling the area. He caught the way your legs pressed together as you crossed them to sit more comfortably against the pillows, attention to the book he’d been reading that morning.

“I’m going to get in the shower,” he cursed himself as he felt desire pool in his throat. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss you, to touch you–to taste you. His mouth watered at the prospect and he felt himself harden just like the night before. His shower was quick as the water had gotten cold and had quickly ruined his mood.

“You lied to be,” he glared at you from the threshold of the bathroom door.

You bit your lip, but still, a smile graced your mouth, “sorry, I thought it would last.” He shook his wet hair around around, mimicking the actions a puppy would.

“What?” His eyes widened slightly and his eyebrows raised, “what did you call me?”

A hand flew to your mouth, your own surprise showing, “I–” of bloody course, you said it out loud.

He stepped forward, dropping his towel on the bed, “say it again.” It was odd, the way he said it–like it was both a question and a demand–or rather, a demand he questioned your willingness to obey.

“…puppy?” you tried laughing it off, “Sorry, it just came out–I didn’t mean t–”

“Didn’t you, though?” Came a mirthful reply. Spencer stepped forward, towering over you as he leaned down, bringing his face near yours, one hand on the bed near your hips, the other on the bedside table. “Is that what you’ve thought of me this entire time?”

And what the hell were you supposed to say to that? Game on is what Spencer saw in your eyes as you set the book on the table, your hand purposely roaming over his as you pulled it back. “No,” you stated, a nonchalant expression crossing your features as your eyes turned away from his, the move calculated, “only sometimes.”

Spencer didn’t think the table would be able to withstand him much longer, but it did as he thought of ways he might proceed. Eventually, he let go and instead wrapped his firm fingers around your nape, forcing your attention to his. “And do you think that now?”

He watched a Chesire grin take its place upon your mouth. “If I said yes, would that anger you, Dr. Reid?” The mocking was unnecessary, but it sure as hell was a lot more fun than if you simply addressed him as ‘Spencer’ or ‘Reid’.

The parental-like tone you took up furthered his new-growing erection. His hair still dripped with water and as a water droplet streaked down his face, you lifted your hand to wipe it with your thumb. His hand let your your neck go to snatch your wrist–God you wanted him so badly. This witty banter–you were already starting to find–just wasn’t enough anymore.

Your eyes reapproached his, they seemed to meet with the same level of desire, completely forgetting that there was a serial killer on the loose, your eyes dipped to his lips only once before you leaned forward–but while you did he pushed you back, your back hitting the bedframe and just as you caught your breath, you found yourself being deprived of air once more.

Spencer was hungry, he tasted like coffee and something minty. Your hands tangled through his hair and while he suffocated you in the only way you’d ever want to be suffocated, you tugged. It barely stopped him the first time, but the second and third had his eyes rolling.

When they found you again, noting the playful glint in your eyes, he vowed he would go as far as you’d let him tonight–and perhaps the night after that, he hadn’t quite thought it through, and at this time, he neither had the strength nor the want to do so. 

He began tugging at your t-shirt, but you grabbed his hand, “ah-ah,” you clicked your tongue, “you have to earn that.” 

He paused and took a step back, watching you now, your knees digging into the softness of the mattress; your mouth darkened with the visceral kisses he’d forced on you. Your eyes sparked with something he knew he’d never be able to find in any other woman. His lips quirked, his eyes were hooded, and his voice thick when he asked, “What do I have to do?”

The need in his voice was enough to shed you of your clothing right then and there, but it seemed you had a lot more self-control than he did in the moment. You tugged your hair out of the loosened, droopy ponytail it had fallen into and brushed it back, smoothing it out to appear just how you wanted it to. You felt his eyes on you, patient, but every second he was, was a second his lust grew, and the moment you gave him the okay–well, he honestly couldn’t say just what he’d be capable of.

“You seem agitated, Spencer,” you pouted, shifting so that your legs fell in front of you over the edge of the bed. His eyes tracked your movements as he used your bed’s bedpost to steady himself, “just how many times have you pictured me like this?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” came his frivolity response. To be frank, he knew the exact answer to your question, but the first thing that flew into his head and out of his mouth was–to be sure–an edging reply. He watched how you interpreted it.

In a moment of unconsciousness, you glanced at the chifforobe across from you. Spencer caught that shit.

“Oh?” He raised a brow, finding the confidence to step forward.

“Don’t get any ideas, Reid.” You warned, but he could see the arguments going on between your eyes.

“No, see: I think it’s your idea.” He corrected, a deep, rumble of a laugh fell from his throat, “So, what exactly did you picture me doing with this thing.” He snorted and walked over to it, running a hand along the cupboard. You bit your lit, your dreams coming into clear view as if they were a film playing in front of you.

“Spencer,” you stood both embarrassed and a little annoyed. 

You marched over to it at placed a hand on his shoulder–but then you were against the doors of the small chifforobe and Spencer was whispering just above your ear, “Was this it? Your sick fantasies of me? Did they include me having you against a wardrobe?”

Your breath caught and you wanted to hide your face because there was no doubt he’d be able to see the truth without you having to voice any sort of answer–but the jerk had his hand cupped around your jaw, and his grip was unimaginably strong for–well, him.

He smiled and tilted his head–and God only knew what that did to your resolve. Your knees weakened and you found yourself whimpering. “So, I guess that’s a yes.” You found just enough strength to narrow your eyes and look somewhat pissed. He nodded, “the shirt,” he tugged at the bottom.

You bit back a repost as he dropped his hands and stepped away, though he kept his distance close enough to where you felt his presence even after you’d lifted your shirt and he was out of sight. His eyes didn’t leave yours, you admired his stoicism; you’d already proved you weren’t any match when your eyes traced every line anytime you saw a sliver of his stomach, hips, neck, or forearms–okay maybe you had a bit of an obsession, but could it honestly be considered that when the look he was giving you screamed ‘wolf in sheep's clothing’? 

“What other things have you thought up in that horny brain of yours, I wonder,” he spoke almost to himself, but his ever-focused gaze told you he was quite literally asking.

“That’s not how the game works,” a cheeky grin reformed your scowl.

“Right,” he paused, turning his eyes to the ceiling for effect, “remind me?”

Your eyes roved from one eye to the other, and back again, searching for any hint of hesitation, “this foreplay is kind of starting to get old.”

“Yes, I can agree–” you cut him off midsentence with a ravenous kiss. You could swear you bit him more than once, but he wasn’t complaining. Your head lulled to the side as he trailed kisses up and down your neck, finding a spot he particularly liked just below your ear.

Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking, tugging, and pulling–whatever got the most responses from him, you were doing. You threw his shirt to the side and pushed him toward the bed. He braced himself using his arms, though they were swiftly in motion again, wrapping around your waist as you stepped between his legs. “What do you want?” You asked, attempting to catch your breath.

He laughed, but when he realized you were serious he almost snorted, “What do I–what do I want?”

“It’s a simple question,” you shrugged, “what do you want from me?”

Now–now his eyes dipped, “I want a lot of things.”

You bit back another grin. Somehow in the few minutes, you’d been running around the room talking about how horny you both were, you’d ended up on the bed, your head behind a pillow. Spencer was between your legs, mouth-watering. He’s waited so long, he honestly didn’t think this foretold moment would ever actually occur, but God, was he glad he’d been wrong. Heavy, sinful eyes skimmed your lower body as he fumbled with the top of your shorts. His hands were warm despite the dreary weather outside, likely due to his recent shower. They pressed into your thighs as he brought his face just above your lower stomach, his name fell from your mouth in a whine, leading him to push aside the cover of your shorts. He drug a few fingers over your center.

Your moans sliced through the rough tension that had fallen over the hotel room. “What?” His snort was low and sloppy, “Oh, is–,” one of his fingers gently slid over you and your eyes shut, “–is this what you want?” His eyes traced the arch of your neck that was most exposed, the one lined with the red marks he’d left. The twitching beneath his sweatpants pulled a groan from his lips.

He swirled his finger around, feeling your wetness was more than inviting. “Spencer,” you cried, eyes flying open at the loss of contact. 

“Be still,” he said, his voice wavering as he tugged everything off and discarded them on the floor. You watched him watch you–it wasn’t until you noted the way his eyes narrowed that you understood he was outlining your form–so that he could vividly paint it in his mind for a later purpose.

“I asked first,” you frowned up at him.

“You’re right,” he sighed, “here: let me show you what I want.”

Your breath caught as he lowered himself, his face coming right up to you, and with the way he was drooling at the sight, you could tell he’d been thinking about this for a while–it made you wonder if his desire had begun a lot sooner than yours had.

His mouth was warm, his tongue stroked up and down as far as they could go, and even when you thought he’d reached that point, he proved you wrong. Your hands knotted in his hair as you guided his head. His mouth was warm as he lapped up everything. You tried keeping your moan to a minimum, but when he stopped, your eyes popped open–had you done something wrong? But no, he was looking up at you with those desperate, puppy-like eyes, “please,” his whisper was grating, “I want to hear you.”

You swallowed, the ache building in you, “if that’s what you want,” you nodded.

And a few moments later, you were calling out his name in a way you’d never called anyone name. This was so new, you’d never had a guy worship you like this and you couldn’t fathom the fact that Spencer wanted to do it for your pleasure as well as his own.

You tried to hold it in, but your body had been desolate of attention for so long that you just couldn’t anymore. You could hear him slurp, and God did it do something to your brain chemistry– He considered you with clouded eyes. “Are you okay?” He frowned, pushing his body over yours.

Without giving him time to settle, you yanked his jaw toward your face with firm hands, he tasted like you and smelled of his shampoo–and yet, there was still the unknown Spencer scent that seemed only his skin could produce. You lined his jaw with kisses, your heart pounding in your chest with every new groan that escaped him.

My turn,” you huffed, definitely the cause of the lopsided grin that spread across his mouth. Though his hair was a mousy brown, in the dim yellow lamplight, it was as dark as the wood that made up the vintage furniture. It looked windswept or like he had just woken up–and perhaps he had. It was no longer a deniable fact that he’d never feel this good with anyone else, and he didn’t know how long this relationship with you would last, so he would milk everything he could out of it–and in exchange, surrender everything he had of himself.

It was only a few seconds later that you had him on his back, hands roving up and down his chest. You rubbed yourself against him, eliciting sweet sounds from his throat and friction from where you were just barely connected. You made sure to hold his gaze as you slid onto him. His jaw tightened and you could feel relief leave him as his chest fell. You tightened around him, trying to get used to him, you had to pause for a second–you couldn’t believe you were doing this–and in a moment of incompetence, you laughed.

“Sorry,” you lowered your chest onto his and began chuckling into his neck, “it’s just–what would the other think if they knew?”

Spencer pushed your shoulder away and held you above him, “I guess it’s a good thing they don’t, right?”

You nodded, but a small part of you wondered about what that meant for the after. Spencer groaned as you sat back up, you started slowly, hissing as you let him fill you. Spencer gave out his fair share of whimpers, but you wanted more, you wanted to make him cry.

You gripped his hair with one hand and the pillow beside him with another, you rolled your hips and wiggled every time you sat back down. Squeezing your thighs seemed to make him shudder the most, and when you added sucking to the mix, you knew you had him. 

“There it is,” your grin was devilish as you swiped at his cheek. He opened his eyes just in time to see you licking his tears off your thumb.

“I might ask what we are now,” you huffed a laugh as Spencer shut the bathroom door. He had been a complete gentleman about everything, cleaning you, massaging your shoulders. You’d never had such an experience, you’d never thought there could be more to having sex if you only had the right partner; now that you did, there was…but you were unsure about yourself.

You found your mind questioning all you knew about Spencer and what this all meant to you. You had asked him what he wanted from you, but did you even know what you wanted from him? Before, the question might have thrown you off–though Spencer had asked it, you weren’t taking him all too seriously. Now that you had more time to contemplate your roving thoughts, you knew the answer as if it had been written in your DNA.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as he sat beside you, you were facing the window and the chifforobe.

“Well, what else would we be?” He paused, almost hesitatingly. You jerked your head toward his, eyes searching, and as the seconds of silence ticked by, he seemed to fade more and more into himself. When he turned his head and averted his eyes, saying, “I mean–if that’s not what you want–” you cut him off.

“No, I just–” you stopped yourself, unsure of how to explain the complications running through your mind, “I’m just not exactly sure what that means…”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. You opened your mouth to clarify–probably more than necessary–but your words caught in your throat as Spencer stood and lowered to his knees in front of you. He was between your thighs, but there was nothing sexual about it–if anything it felt like the complete opposite kind of intimacy you had grown accustomed to with him.

His hands reached for yours, pulling them into your lap. He looked up at you with possibly the one look Spencer Reid had never given anyone. His eyes couldn’t decide which one of yours to focus on for the longest time, but when he did, his tone was guttural and almost choking, trusting. 

“The more time I spend with you, the more I feel I’ve always known you. These past few weeks–they weren’t the beginning for me.” Your mouth suddenly went dry, though you still tried to swallow. “I–I honestly don’t know when it started, but the more I felt drawn to you, the more I forced myself away. It–I don’t–I didn’t think I deserved to feel that way–I guess…”

You waited a few moments to ensure he was finished, your mind ran to look for the best possible response–but given the one-in-a-million situation you were in, your mind went blank. Instead, you rambled the first words that rolled into your mind just as you whispered the last, “I want you in every way, Spencer. It’s like–like you’ve bewitched me–”

“...body and soul,” he finished, “it’s…Jane Austen–sorry.” He cringed.

You threw your head back and laughed, then huffed, wiping a few tears from your eyes, “No, oh, no don’t worry. See this is why I love you,” Your heart came to an abrupt halt, and you felt as if you were dead, “no–I mean, I don’t–I mean, I–well, I do, but I mean–”

“It’s okay,” you followed his face as he stood and leaned down, his palm brushing across your face as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and leaned forward, “It’s okay, know what you meant,” the end of his sentence was muffled by another kiss.

“So, do you think they’ve caught on yet?” JJ asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Uhh, I’d say probably not.” Emily nodded.

“Would you like the share with the class?” Morgan raised a brow.

“Oh, I know this one,” Penelope hand shot up, her jewelry clinking against one another, “because — and Reid still think we don’t know.”

“I mean how could we not, though?” JJ huffed a laugh, setting her mug on the table in front of her.

“Know what?” Rossi smacked his lips, startling the group of four.

“Know…the complexities of…nail polish?” Penelope tried and failed to save the group.

All four members winced as Hotch appeared seemingly out of thin air and stated, “they think we don’t know about Spencer and —.” “What?” Rossi shook his head, following Hotch, “how could we not know? They’re so obvious.”

a/n: sorry for the wait, but i do proofread my fics because i just can't stand things not being as good as they could be–i'm a bit of a perfectionist lol irregardless, happy late new year !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[mingoooossii]

ATEEZ comforting you after you have a rough week.

Ot8 x reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of hugs, reader is overwhelmed in most of these, mentions of exams(scary ik), kinda corny tbh, also not proofread so there might be some mistakes.

A/n: i used most of my braincells 4 this 🫠 yea also this purely depended upon my mood so that's why some of them are just thoughts while the others are full blown conversations. will most likely rewrite this is in the future I think. Also I'm planning on opening taglists so if you want to be included just lmk!! (for ateez or any other group)

Words: 3.1k

Requested ♡ Ateez masterlist.

"When you feel like you're nowhere, Let it go 'cause I'll be there for you..."

⋆˚࿔ Hongjoong

• whenever things get a little too much, you'd usually suck it up

• it wasn't healthy, you know that yet you couldn't afford to fall back now so you did it anyway

• him, who's very sensitive to your every little changes in mood, of course, noticed it too

• you tend to sort of shut down whenever you get overwhelmed, causing you to get moody and quiet, often leading to minor arguments with him

• but he understands (being prone to overworking himself, he was never too fond of the after effects)

• but that doesn't mean he's not going to do anything about it

• ”you're taking a break.” “But I need to finish this-”

• he cut you off by closing your book, making sure to bookmark it before picking you up from the chair

• ”have you looked at yourself yet? you're about to collapse.”

• you fell silent at that, letting him carry you over to the bed, feeling your irritation dissolve at the stern tone, yet you could pick up on the hint of worry.

• ”but I need to finish it, or else I won't catch up on my work. I'm already behind in-”

• your worried ramblings was silenced by his lips pressing against yours for a brief moment

• ”i vaguely remember someone pulling me out of my studio, by my ear, when I was overworking myself.”

• he muttered, sitting beside you once he put you down on the bed, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear

• ”you should listen to your own advice, you know?”

• you could feel the tears pricking your eyes at his words, making you feel helpless and frustrated

• ”there's just…so much. i don't know if I'll ever finish it…what am I gonna do?”

• you mumbled, your lips trembling as you tried to bite back your sobs

• his expression softened at your words, pulling you into his embrace, stroking your hair

• ”i know. but exhausting yourself is only going to make it harder for you to catch up.”

• ”let's take a break, okay? you need to rest, let your mind calm down first.”

• you felt him pull away from you, his hand wiping your tears away

• ”how about we go for a walk outside? some fresh air would help, i think.”

• you thought for a bit before nodding. you definitely wouldn't be able to get anything done while you were in this state.

• he finally let a small smile break free, standing up, moving to get your shoes for you

“An ice cream could help too, i've heard. and there's a parlour that just opened up, down the street. i think it's fate.”

⋆˚࿔ Seonghwa

• "are you okay?"

• he asked softly, worry lacing his tone as he watched your sullen figure drop down onto the couch.

• "I'm okay."

• your curt response came out as if it was clockwork, removing your bag before burying your face into the comforter

• you obviously weren't. Well, it'd been like that for a while now

• he sighed before coming over to you on the couch. He knelt down and reached out to take off your shoes which you forgot to

• you tried to sit up, suddenly feeling guilty

• "i got it...-" "Let me."

• you paused before laying back down, feeling a bit nervous at his tone of voice. Was he mad?

• "I'm sorry... it's just lately everything's been going downhill..."

• you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as you let your emotions of the past week finally weigh you down

• "i c-can't seem to do anything right and...i can't muster up energy for anything...i.."

• you sniffled, waiting for a response. He didn’t reply, instead placing your shoes neatly to the side before standing up and sitting down next to you on the couch.

• "Hwa..."

• a tear rolled down your face as he wrapped his arms around you, resting your head beneath his chin.

• it was incredible how the warmth of his embrace contrasted the gloominess you've been feeling all week.

• "I'm not mad. Why would I be?"

• he spoke quietly, his eyes shutting for a moment, his hand tracing patterns on your back

• "and you know... people don't always have to be okay..."

• "if that were the case then, i think we'd be superhumans..."

• you let out a laugh at his words, feeling your heart lighten slightly

• "i guess..."

• he smiled at the pleasant sound, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand moving to wipe your tears away.

• "so don't put yourself down, i won't let you."

• he whispered, his expression gentle yet firm before pulling you close again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

• "I'm still gonna worry though. Because I'm a human, a human who happened to be really really really in love with you."

• you chuckled, feeling exasperated yet so so light hearted

"Well, then...this human loves you too, a lot."

⋆˚࿔ Yunho.

• exams were coming up.

• and with exams came all nighters.

• you knew it wasn't healthy at all but your brain refused to listen to you, conjuring up various 'what ifs' each one, bleak.

• yes, exam seasons usually had you stressed.

• he knew it too.

• don't get him wrong, he knew you'd do well (with you being one of the most hardworking people he knows, there was no doubt about that)

• but he knew you couldn't help it. Despite all the assurances, a small part of you always doubted if your efforts were enough

• and he was worried. Of course, he was but he couldn't push you to take breaks even when he knew you needed it

• because he thought it'd be better to be distant than to have you completely shut him out

• but he wasn't sure anymore.

• even more so when he came upon you staring down at your books with teary eyes. You couldn't take it anymore.

• "I'm just so tired"

• you sobbed, burying your face into his chest. He had carried you to the bed from your desk, despite your protests but now you were glad that he did.

• "i know, love."

• he whispered, his hand rubbing your back soothingly, his heart clenching at the sound of your sobs. How could he have let it get this bad?

• but one thing was sure, he wasn't about to let you go through this alone.

• "Take a break, hm?" "But i...-"

• "No buts."

• he replied firmly, his expression showing his worry

• "Baby, it's admirable, it really is...you work so hard and I'm so proud of you..."

• "but I'm worried."

• he mumbled, his voice soft and low, tightening his hold on you

• your words faltered as you sensed the genuine concern in his voice, a twinge of guilt washing over you.

• "You always seem so tired and i...i can't help but feel frustrated for not being able to do anything..."

• his tone was soft, holding you close as if he feared losing you.

• "i don't want anything to happen to you..."

• you heart clenched at the tone of fear in his voice. you felt him lean back, taking your face into his hands carefully

• ”no matter how important it is, pushing yourself beyond the point of breaking will never do you any good.”

•he whispered, his voice quiet as he stroked your face gently

•you stayed silent for a moment, his words going through your mind. you could feel the toll these last few days had on your body. crashing out wouldn't be far at this point.

•so you nodded, reluctantly agreeing, not wanting to worry him any longer and also because you knew you needed this.

•he smiled, seeing you agree (although reluctant) relief coursing through him finally.

“Good. Now, how about some tea? I'll…let you get back to it after a break and this time, I'll help you.”

⋆˚࿔ Yeosang.

• something was wrong.

• he wasn't used to seeing you so...pensive.

• that slight slumping of your shoulders, the way you zone out mid-convos and the quiet sighs that escapes you whenever you think no one's looking

• no, he definitely noticed. It was so unlike you and...he wasn't sure how to react.

• would you be mad if he were to bring this up?

• or would you pretend like there was

nothing wrong?

• he knows that you value your independence very much, often preferring to deal with things on your own

• he respects that and doesn't push in anyway, not wanting to make you uncomfortable

• but he'd also feel a bit guilty (thought it was never his fault) feeling like he was failing as a boyfriend for just watching from the sidelines while you struggled

• though initially, he'd be a bit hesitant and cautious when approaching the matter

• he wouldn't directly confront you but lets you know that he's there for you

• "I'm here, if you want to talk."

• he'll also try to distract you with other activities, whether if it's like a walk in the park or a simply game

• he'll try his best to keep the atmosphere quiet and positive so you'll be able to relax your mind even if it's just a little

• and when you finally open up to him, he listens.

• he doesn't really respond in between and just lets you rant while listening intently

• and you know he is from the way his hand gently squeezes yours in assurance whenever you come to a pause, letting you know that whatever you were feeling was valid

• he isn't that big on physical affection but won't hesitate to shower you in it if you were to ask

• he's just a green flag over all

"I'll be here if you need me. I'll always be here."

⋆˚࿔ San.

• "come here."

• you hesitantly glanced at him before immediately looking away once you met his eyes. How does he know you so well?

• "choi y/n, come. here."

• he repeated, his tone a bit more firm now, spreading his arms wide and looking at you expectantly

• "what's with the choi?"

• you sighed, half-laughing, but you walked towards him, your emotions bubbling up again.

• "you own my heart, so you might as well take my last name too."

• he said softly with a small smile as you finally stepped into his arms.

• "seriously..."

• you mumbled, your voice breaking towards the end as you pressed your face into his chest, tears starting to flow again

• "there we go..."

• he guided you to the couch before sitting beside you. He wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you into him and gently ran his fingers through your hair, whispering.

• "you did a good job, hm? I'm so proud of you."

• "it doesn't feel like that though..."

• you laughed. his words, though comforting, stung a bit, reminding you of your failures yet again

• he frowned, picking upon on the hint of self depreciation in your tone

• "how dare you say that about the love of my life? Do you have any idea how much they mean to me?"

• he spoke, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand reaching up to pinch your cheeks

• "what're you on about?"

• you chuckled, avoiding his hand, not knowing whether to be amused or exasperated at his sudden burst out

• "I'm serious, my love's the best, the smartest, the kindest, the most hardworking, the prettiest...the list goes on..."

• he continued, his voice firm as he made you face him, wiping your tears away

• "but you know what i like the most about them?"

• he asked, his expression softening considerably

• "they never give up. no matter how hard it gets, no matter what anyone else says, they never give up, because they know that they can get through it..."

• he stroked your face, his eyes never leaving yours, the genuineness in them halting your breath for a moment

• "I know you can..."

• you felt your heart tighten at his words, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. You hugged him again, tears forming again.

• "why do you always have to be so nice? I hate you..."

• you sobbed, though there was no real heat behind your words

• he chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly

"It's okay, in return, I have lots of love to give you..."

⋆˚࿔ Mingi.

• he knew that things have been rough for you lately

• while he was worried, he wasn't sure to how to bring it up without making you feel even worse

• so he had hoped you'd come to him first

• though nothing prepared him for the sight of you sobbing into your hands infront of him, when you did

• initially he was at a loss as to what to do (it's that T in him)

• but he could feel his heart breaking as he watched you desperately trying to wipe your tears away which seemed to be flowing endlessly at that moment

• instantly he pulled you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you so tightly like he wanted to shield you from whatever that was hurting you

• "I'm sorry..."

• you weren't sure what he was apologising for and neither was he

• though he wasn't good with words in this situation, he was there for you

• and he hoped you'd know it too

"don't hold back your tears, just let it all out. I'm here."

⋆˚࿔ Wooyoung

• he’s been walking on eggshells the entire week and he wasn't sure how long he could he take it

• your obvious avoidance of him, the curt texts, (hell, he'd prefer it more if you argued with him than this) it was all getting ridiculous

• so, what was the next step? obviously, confronting you.

• though it wasn't going like how he expected it to go.

• ”I'm sorry, i thought it'd be better to avoid you than to let you get affected too”

• you mumbled, your voice a bit hoarse as you brought your blanket covering you, closer

• your face was red, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you supported yourself on the wall.

• these past few weeks had taken a toll on you, worse than you thought and before you knew it, you had a fever.

• ”Affect me-...are you serious?”

• he spoke before he could stop himself. really? that's what you've been worried about?

• “I've been worried sick! you think I'd care about some damn germs?”

• you fell silent, feeling a bit guilty now.

• he huffed as if he was in disbelief. he wanted to say more but paused, his eyes falling on your pale face

• he sighed before stepping in, his hands reaching for your face.

• “you're burning up…”

• he muttered, worry lacing his tone as he supported you, making sure to close the door before leading you to your living room, sitting you down on the couch

• you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you watched him bustle around your apartment

• it was weird, seeing him so serious like this, different from his usual playful self

• and it only made you more guilty for worrying him

• ”I'm sorry…”

• he paused, hearing your words, his movements slowing down as he closed the door to your shelf after retrieving the medicine

• “you know? these past few days, I was wondering whether I did something. I couldn't figure it out.”

• he spoke up, returning to the couch, kneeling infront of you, placing a hand on your lap

• “besides, what if you were in your death bed? of course i need to be here.”

• he added, a small smirk forming on his face

• “Hey!”

• you countered, your eyes wide, hitting his shoulder making him laugh out a small ‘sorry!’, lightening the mood slightly

• “no but seriously, you should've told me you were sick. i would've came running.”

• “you always take care of me when I'm sick. I want to do the same…”

• he muttered, his playfulness dissolving into softness, his hand squeezing yours gently

• you felt your heart melt at his words, warmth coursing through you, the pleasant kind this time.

• “Alright then, can you…make me your special chicken soup?”

• you asked, a hopeful glint in your eyes. you’ve been craving it actually.

• his smile returned even more brightly as he stood up, turning to make his way to your kitchen

“I'll make you the damn best chicken soup you're gonna ever have! You won't even need medicine cause it's gonna heal you up right away.”

⋆˚࿔ Jongho

• he knew you were having a rough week

• considering how moody you've seemed lately and you also didn't talk much

• and you were usually the 'affectionate' one in your relationship so the lack of it made him pause

• he was concerned, obviously, but didn't voice it directly or push you to open up

• he trusted that you'd come to him if there was something

• however, it seems like you finally reached your breaking point

• he regretted not talking to you sooner when he came home to you crying one day

• he immediately engulfs you into his embrace.

• you seemed a bit surprised to see him, not expecting him to come back so early

• and you felt bad to burden him with your emotions, surely he had a lot on his plate as well-

• "stupid, you should be worrying about yourself."

• he mumbled, his voice annoyed yet... concerned, pulling you closer when you tried to move away.

• he won't respond with words when you start to pour your worries out

• but you know he's listening with the gentle but assuring squeezes he gave your hand whenever you come to a pause

• well, it wasn't like he really had to talk when his embrace spoke volumes more than any words ever could.

“Don't feel bad for feeling bad, you don't always have to be okay, it's completely normal.”

[tyuns-world]

༻Pumpkin eater༺

Pairing: fem!reader x huening kai x idolbf! taehyun

Genre: smut

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), cheating, manipulation, coerced

Summary: Your boyfriend has been too busy to give you attention recently, so sending his friend Kai to hang out with you might offer more than just a simple hangout.

Wc: 2k

Here you were, watching a movie with your boyfriend's best friend, Kai, and all you could think about was how your boyfriend bailed on you again. Ever since he released his new solo song, he's been too busy for you, leaving you sad, lonely, and desperate for touch. You haven't been kissed properly or made love in months, and it's driving you crazy.

You were hoping Kai would get bored and leave so you could finally have some time to yourself. The movie finally ends, and Kai picks up the remote, ready to select another one. "Kai, how long do you plan on covering for him?" you whine, looking over at him.

"I don't know what you mean. I just came over to hang out with you," he says, not very convincingly.

"Kai, when have we ever hung out alone?" you question him.

He looks a bit guilty. "Well, I thought our recent hangouts have made us closer," he feigns hurt. It has been nice to talk to someone who understands your situation.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Play the next movie," you sigh in defeat. So far, you two have been watching your favorite animated movies. It seems like Taehyun, your boyfriend, told him which ones usually cheer you up.

"Well, we're going to watch a movie I've been wanting to see. It just came out, and I heard it was awesome," Kai says.

You shrug, not really minding the change of pace. As the movie started, you thought it was boring. It seemed to be a regular movie about tennis.

You weren't really a sports person, but you didn't complain because the lead was your favorite actress. As the movie went on, it got messier and definitely raunchier. Some of the scenes left you hot and bothered, making it awkward to be horny next to your boyfriend's friend. You glance over at him during a particularly steamy scene and notice him mesmerized. His demeanor is a bit different from his usual self, less relax, and now a pillow is laid across his lap. It seems the scenes were getting to him too.

You wonder why, though. Your excuse was that you haven't been touched in months, and stuff like this easily flustered you now but what was his excuse. After the movie Kai quickly excused himself and left in a hurry. As you cleaned up the snacks, you noticed he left his favorite hoodie behind.

"Well, he'll come back for that eventually," you said to yourself. You brought it into your shared room with your boyfriend and stripped down to a tank top and panties, happy to finally have some alone time. You opened your phone, your favorite porn video ready in your incognito tab. You started groping yourself, trying to imagine it was your boyfriend, but it wasn't enough—you needed another touch.

You were whining and moaning pathetically, so loud that you didn't notice Kai had come back. Seeing your door slightly open with the lights on, he assumed you were still up. He opened the door.

"Hey Y/N, it seems I forgot—" he stopped mid-sentence at the sight unfolding in front of him. You, with eyes screwed shut, lips parted, one strap of your tank top fallen down, exposing one of your plump, round breasts, and your inviting brown legs parted, giving him the best view of your hand down your soaked panties.

You didn't hear him or notice he was at the doorway, battling with himself on whether to leave or enjoy the view. He decided to leave, but your frustrated moans and pouty lips drew him in.

"You need help with that?" a voice said above you. You jumped, ripping your hands out of your panties and attempting to fix yourself.

"Kai, what are you—" you began to say, but he shushed you with a single finger on your mouth. "Do you need help with that?" he asked again. "I—I have a boyfriend," you rambled, blindsided by his question. Kai just hummed.

"You didn't say no," he noted. He started trailing a single finger up your thigh, making direct eye contact the whole time. You shuddered in pleasure.

This is so wrong, you should stop him, but it felt so good to be touched.

"Don't worry, love," he murmured, gently pushing your shoulder, laying you down slightly before he sat face to face with your soaked panties.

He teased the outlines of your lips and clit, rubbing and applying just enough pressure to give you fleeting pleasure. "Kai, we shouldn't," you managed to get out. He didn't respond, only slipped your panties off and brought his face closer to where you needed him.

"You know, oral isn't sex, baby. It'll be fine; there's nothing bad going on," Kai persuaded, his words dripping with manipulation.

You found yourself giving in to his convincing argument. After all, it's not actual penetration, right? Just a little licking. He licked a long stripe up your pussy, causing you to arch your back. He licked a few more stripes like that, teasing you and watching your every reaction before he started eating you out expertly.

He licked and sucked in all the right places, leaving you moaning and your hips thrusting. Kai, being much bigger and stronger, held your hips down with one hand on your stomach, the other wrapped around your thigh keeping it open, giving him complete access. You were so wet, and Kai just lapped it all up.

When your moans grew louder and your hips became more uncontrollable, Kai knew you were close and stopped completely. You looked at him, frustrated, whimpering softly, "Kai." He just smirked.

"Well, it wouldn't be right if I tasted the cum of my best friend's girlfriend, right? That should be only for him," he said. You nodded; he was right—only your boyfriend should know that taste."Here, let me transfer some of the taste I already got. It'd be bad for me to keep it," Kai hovered over you before pressing a soft kiss onto your lips. When he pulled away, you felt a bit disappointed.

"Oh, right. I can't forget to transfer what my tongue tasted," he said before pulling you into a steamy kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, making you wetter. You were left wanting more when he finally pulled away, and you looked at his face, which held a smug look.

Kai got up, and you thought he was going to leave. You almost got ready to beg him not to, but all he did was take off his shirt. "Taehyun would scold me if I left you so sad. You know, he told me to cheer you up," he said as he laid back on top of you. "Now I should take his request properly."

He rubbed his middle finger on your pussy, gathering all the slick wetness there, and then rubbed it onto your clit. You couldn't let him finger you—that would be cheating—so you grabbed his arm. "Oh, don't worry, baby. It's just like masturbating. It's only my fingers. You're still a loyal girlfriend, okay?" Kai reassured.

You let go and nodded as he slipped two fingers inside you. It was only his fingers, its just like using your own. "Plus, baby, my fingers are longer, and I can reach more places to help you," he said as he pumped his fingers in and out. He was totally right—your own fingers never felt this good. You could never make yourself moan as loudly as Kai was making you now. As Kai explored your gummy walls, you were left a mess of moans.

You were practically riding his fingers with how much you were moving your hips, wanting him deeper, craving something fuller. You clung onto his neck, his hot chest touching yours. As soon as Kai found that sweet spot, your mouth hung open, a loud "Kai" escaping your lips. He abused the spot, hitting it again and again, relishing how you moaned his name over and over like a mantra.

"That's it, baby, moan for me," he whispered in your ear, his other hand coming up to play with your hard nipples. You were a pleasure-filled mess under him, shaking and writhing.

You were close again, your walls squeezing Kai's fingers as your moans grew louder. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, Kai stopped, pulling his fingers out. A few tears slipped down your cheeks. "Kai, please," you begged.

"Don't you think it would be bad if you came all over my fingers? Can you even make yourself cum on your own fingers?" he taunted. You pouted and shook your head no.

"See, it wouldn't be masturbating then, and you'd be a slut," he said. Your back arched slightly, and your thighs squeezed shut at the word. Kai raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You wouldn't want to be some cheating slut now, would you?" You shook your head, your thighs rubbing together for some friction. Kai parted them. "Don't worry, darling. I have a toy for you to use, completely safe to cum on."

Your eyes brightened a bit at the mention of finally being able to cum. "Close your eyes, baby, and keep your legs spread."

You followed his instruction, too dumbed out to even realize that the toy he meant was his own cock. You felt the warmth of Kai towering over you as he slipped his "toy" in. It felt so warm and thick you almost started fucking yourself on it, but Kai stopped you. "Patience, lovely," he said.

Kai started slowly dragging the toy inside and out of you. It felt heavenly, better than any other toy you'd ever tried. You wanted to peek at what it looked like so you could get one, but when you opened your eyes, you saw Kai fucking into you and not a toy. You looked at him, worried, hoping he'd say more words to manipulate you, but he just smirked.

"Are you that dumb, baby, thinking you weren't a slut this whole time?" he said. You clenched at his words, and Kai let out a grunt.

"You're so easy, ready and willing to let another man inside you, moaning my name and begging me to make you cum." You almost cried at his mean words, but they made you so hot, so much more needy.

Kai's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more demanding. Each movement sent waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't hold back the moans, each one louder than the last. "That's it, fucking slut. If you're gonna cheat, you should enjoy it," Kai murmured, his voice rough with desire. "You were so cute during the movie, I wanted to fuck you right there and then," he admits.

"Really?" You responds, eyes widening.

"Yeah," he continues, caressing your face. "Let me show how much"

Tears spilled from your eyes at the intense pleasure as Kai started sucking on your aching nipples. You were so close to the edge, every nerve in your body filled with pleasure. Kai's cock felt incredible, reaching places even your boyfriend hadn't. You knew you should stop him, that you shouldn't cum all over his cock, but you needed this—you were too fucked out to care about consequences now.

"Kai," you whimpered, your voice shaky and desperate. "I'm so close."

"I know, baby," he replied, his breath hot against your ear. "I can feel you. You're so tight around me. You enjoy being fucked by another man this much?" Those words, combined with the sensations, drove you wild.

"Beg for it," Kai said.

You easily obliged, "Please, I need it. It's been so long, please," your voice filled with need."What a slut? You didn't even hesitate" his tone was condescending, making you want to cum even more.

"Go ahead, cum all over my cock." A smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss. His pace became almost brutal, his hips slamming into yours with force.

Your orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing as you came all over him. You cried out, and he continued to thrust through your climax. You were a panting mess underneath him, but he didn't stop, thrusting a few more times before reaching his own climax.

"Well, when I said take care of my girlfriend, I didn't think you'd take me so seriously," a voice says from the door.

Kai just calmly shrugs, pulling out of you. You look toward the door to see your boyfriend, Taehyun, leaning against it with an obvious hard-on."Tyun, how long have you been there?" you stammer, trying to cover yourself with a sheet, ashamed.

"So, you enjoyed it?" Taehyun asks, slowly making his way over to you. "I—well, I—" you stammer, unable to think straight, still coming down from your high.

"Mhm, I see. Maybe I should help you with your words," Taehyun says, taking off his jacket. "She's all yours," Kai says, grabbing his hoodie and leaving. "She always was," Taehyun adds before Kai exited.

[me-loving-woso]

The day after tomorrow

As promised here is Part 2 of Today. Tomorrow. You can find Part 1 here: Today. Tomorrow

As soon as you reached her building, you sent her a text.

**Y/n**: Are you home?

**Aitana**: Yes, I am. Why?

**Y/n:** Open the door.

You entered the building and quickly reached her door, knocking. After a few moments, she opened it, looking surprised, both at your presence and your new bald look.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to apologize," you said shyly, waiting for her to let you in. She widened the door to let you in, then closed it again. "I'm really sorry about how I treated you today. It wasn't fair to you, and I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, really," she said without much thought.

"You can be mad at me; I deserve it," you told her.

"You're going through something really tough. I get it if you want to lash out or not be vulnerable around me, even if sometimes, I'd like it if you'd let me be there for you more," she softened her gaze, showing her sincerity.

"Maybe that's the problem," you came closer to her. "Aren't you going to get tired of waiting for me?"

She was taken aback by the question, surprised at your acknowledgment of what was happening between you. The last time that happened, you were drunk.

"Well, I don't see it that way. We are already kinda acting like a couple. We cuddle, we sometimes sleep together, we are there for each other, we communicate, and we both care for each other in a way that friends wouldn't," she pointed out. Those past weeks, she had been there for you like a girlfriend would.

"Well, you can say that, but is it enough? Do you really think we could go on like this for more than another month?"

"What are you trying to say, Y/n? Do you want this to end?"

"No, no. What I'm trying to say is that I don't think I've given you a proper chance. I pushed you away multiple times because I was scared. And I really don't want to anymore."

A smile crept onto her lips as she tried to suppress it. "So you're saying—"

"Yes, Tani. 70% of relationships fail in the first year, so let's be that 30%."

"Are you sure? Like 100%? Because if you're doing it for me, you really don't have to. I'm happy being what we are currently," she rambled.

"I'm doing it for myself. So now, just shut up and kiss me.”

She gently placed her hands on your cheeks and pulled you close to her lips. The kiss was so sweet that you both couldn't properly kiss each other because you couldn't stop smiling.

"Be serious! I can't kiss you properly," you told her, giggling.

"I'm trying!" She took a breath to keep her smile from creeping in and kissed you again, this time properly.

She took her time, making sure you both fully enjoyed kissing each other for the first time. You slowly pushed her until she was seated on the couch, while you surged forward, sitting on her lap. There, she held you tight by your waist, while you had your hands on the sides of her jaw.

When you finally pulled away to breathe, you began to pepper her cheeks, jaw, and forehead with small, quick kisses, making her giggle. You wished to hear that giggle for the rest of your life if you could.

She took a closer look at you. "You have to change your beanie!" she said, taking you off guard.

"Why? You don't like it? I'm not going for a wig if that's what you're asking."

"You're bringing an Adidas product into my home! Nike is better! Wait. I'll give you one of mine." She patted your leg for you to move, then got up and left for her room.

After a couple of seconds, she quickly came back to you, sat down on the couch, and urged you to get in the same position as before.

"Can I take the beanie off?" she asked you. It was going to be a big step for you, showing this kind of vulnerability to her. You knew she knew about your illness, but it still scared you that she would look at you differently.

You lightly nodded, and she slowly took the beanie off you, leaving your bare head on display. She gently caressed the back of your head. "How is this so smooth?" she stated jokingly. You smacked her head in response.

"You're an idiot. That's the same thing Ciro said to me," you chuckled.

"Joking aside, this right here is proof that you're one hell of a fighter, Y/n. Never forget that. The hair will eventually grow back, but your spirit and your will through this tough illness will make you even stronger." She picked up her Nike beanie and gently placed it on your head. "There you go. Definitely better." She gave you a soft kiss on your forehead and gently embraced you.

"I don't know how I got so lucky with you," you said gratefully.

"I'm the lucky one, believe me."

That night, you both remained awake until 2 AM. You told her everything about you—your first girlfriend, uni life and your relationship with Ciro and your mom. You wanted her to know everything about you and why you were the way you were.

In return, she told you everything about her life, why she loved football so much, and her deepest insecurities and fears. You both listened intently, deepening the bond that you had with each other. That conversation made you fall for her even more than before.

--

--

The next morning, Aitana headed to training with a newfound happiness. The night before had left her feeling incredibly content—words couldn't quite capture the depth of her emotions. Seeing you give her a proper chance filled her with immense gratitude.

Patience wasn't her strongest suit, but for you, she would have waited for years. In her mind, the connection that she felt with you wasn’t something that you could find with the first random person. It felt unique, but maybe all the new couples felt like this when they finally get togather.

As she entered the physio room for her session with Ciro before practice, she immediately noticed his new haircut.

"Whoa, new haircut? Looks sleek and aerodynamic!" she teased lightly.

"Is it that bad?" he asked, seemingly unfazed by her teasing.

"Just because you did it, and why you did it, it's perfect. I would've done it too if Y/n let me," she remarked.

"She would never. She'd be so mad!" Ciro chuckled.

"I know, right!"

His expression softened as he asked, "Y/n didn't come home last night. You guys talked?" Aitana felt a blush creep onto her cheeks, silently confirming his question. She sat down on the physio bed, and Ciro began working on her ankle.

"Should I give you the brother-in-law talk?" he asked, turning to her seriously.

"Whoa! A little too early for that. Give us at least a week!" she exclaimed, widening her eyes.

"Joking aside, I'm glad you didn't give up on her. It might not seem like it, but you've been helping her so much," Ciro remarked.

"You keep saying that, but in reality, I'm the one who needs her, not the opposite," Aitana admitted shyly.

"You're such a suck up!" Ciro joked, prompting Aitana to playfully push him off her ankle.

"That's not true! Without her, we both would be lost! Who would keep us in line?" Aitana retorted as Ciro finished taping her ankle. "You're good to go now."

-

During training, Aitana couldn't wipe the smile off her face, which caught the attention of her teammates, who were accustomed to her serious demeanor.

"Why are you so smiley?" Mapi asked, coming closer to her.

"No particular reason," Aitana lied.

"Does it have something to do with the art restorer?" Mapi pressed on.

"Maybe…" Aitana couldn't suppress the smile forming on her lips.

"She'd better treat you right," Mapi said protectively.

"She is."

"So when are you going to let us meet her properly?" Patri jumped into the conversation.

"I'll talk to her about it tonight," Aitana replied, thinking of the plans you two had after your chemo treatment.

"You never hang out with us anymore!"

"I do! It's just, I've been busy with—"

"Y/n, we know. You should take her out with us," Patri suggested.

"It's not that simple. I'll talk to her about it," Aitana said vaguely, refocusing on training.

-

After training, Aitana quickly showered, put on some sweats, and headed to the hospital to see you. As she entered your room, she found you surrounded by some friends, mostly middle-aged women with breast cancer, gossiping about the hot doctors in the oncology department and trying to set you up with their sons.

"Who's the lucky man?" Jimena, one of the women, asked curiously.

"Jimena, I'd rather not talk about my love life with chemicals running through my veins," you replied, trying to change the subject.

"I get it. Young love!" Jimena teased before Aitana came to your rescue with snacks. As she sat next to you, Jimena and the other women left you two alone to talk.

"Thank god you saved me, Tani. All these women were trying to fix me up with their sons," you whispered, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Were there any hot, rich contenders?" she asked playfully.

"Yeah! They were all rich entrepreneurs with abs of steel. One of them I think was an Espanyol player? He looked really hot," you teased her. Aitana was momentarily taken aback, but she quickly recovered.

"What? You thought I'd profess my undying love for you and tell you that you're my one and only," you joked, poking her side teasingly.

"I play for Barça and have abs of steel," she replied childishly, trying to one-up the fake contenders you'd invented.

"You're such a child, Tani! None of these fake contenders would stand a chance with you!" you smiled, finding her playful pout endearing.

"Say that I'm your one and only," she playfully prompts.

"You are my one and only," you humor her, lightly moving your body to give a kiss on her cheek. "Today." Another kiss. "Tomorrow." Another one. "The day after tomorrow." Yet another. "And all the days after that." One final kiss seals your declaration, and you see her satisfied look with a slight blush on her cheeks. "You just wanted a cheesy confession," you shake your head, smiling. "You're one little scrounger," you pinch her nose.

"You love it," she retorts.

"I do, but I'll be waiting for a cheesy love confession too."

-

As soon as you were done with the treatment, you decided to take a small walk, as the doctor advised. You headed to a nearby beach, deserted in January, leaving just the two of you.

"So, the team wants to meet you, like properly," she says, slightly nervous.

"Don't I meet them at your birthday party? In like a couple of weeks," you remind her.

"Well, yeah, I didn't actually think about that," she admits shyly.

"Why are you so nervous for me to meet your friends?" you ask, then realizing. "Is it because I have can—"

"Oh, god no! Never think that, okay?" She stops on her feet, turns to you, and gets shy again. "It's the first time I'm bringing a girl to meet them. I've always focused only on football until a couple of months ago—well, I ran into you. So now they're just really curious and they want to meet you."

"I'd love to meet your friends, Tani. You met Eva, so now it's my turn to meet your teammates."

"They can be a lot," she warns you.

"I think I can deal with it. Do they know I have cancer?" you ask.

"It's not my business to say."

"You should tell them. They'll probably call you crazy since you decided to get with a cancer patient. And they would be right," you giggle.

"You call it crazy. I call it just a shift of events. In the beginning, we'll live out the hard times, then we'll have the best times of our life. I'll take you to Japan, like you always wanted to, and you'll take me to Italy, and show me all of the art you restored there," she says hopefully. "And here's the cheesy love confession: I'm not very good at math, but I'm pretty good at figuring out that we belong together." Her unexpected pickup line makes you burst out in giggles. She then turns serious. "I really believe that we work out really well together, Y/n. Today. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. And all the days after that, I'll still believe that. So will you be my girlfriend, officially?"

"Damn, you actually are good at cheesy love confessions," you put your arms around her shoulders and pull her in for a hard kiss. She replies with the same kind of intensity and emotion.

"So it's a yes?"

"Yes," you say excitedly, going back to kiss her.

-

-

Aitana's birthday didn't start as you hoped. It was her first day off in a long time, and you wanted her to have a wonderful day. However, your plans were interrupted around 5 AM when you felt your mouth water, a sign of what was to come.

You rushed to the toilet and emptied your stomach, a common side effect of chemo but a first-time experience for you. After quickly brushing your teeth, you returned to bed, hoping it wouldn't recur. Aitana rolled over to your side and cuddled into you.

"Good morning," she whispered with a raspy voice.

"Good morning, birthday girl. Why are you up so early?" You kissed her scalp. "Go back to sleep." She relaxed against you, or rather, on top of you.

You didn't mind; you loved her cuddliness. Your hand found its way inside her shirt, soothingly rubbing her back until she drifted back to sleep.

She properly woke at 8 AM, and with some coaxing from you, you both headed to the kitchen for breakfast.

"What's the plan for today?" she asked.

"It's your birthday; whatever you want to do," you replied.

"I just want to spend it with you," she smiled goofily.

"You're such a sweet talker," you rolled your eyes.

"Since it's my birthday, you'll have to indulge me in everything," she said excitedly. "Even the most absurd things."

"What do you want?" You handed her a cup of coffee, relishing the domestic moment.

"I want a puppy," she said eagerly.

"Tani, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma, we are not getting a puppy."

"A kitten?" she suggested.

"Even worse."

"Okay, worth a shot," she said sadly, making you giggle.

"I'll give you all the kisses and cuddles you want?" you suggested.

"I think I can be satisfied with that," she said, pulling you onto her lap. "Starting with now." You shook your head amused, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and leaning in. "So I was thinking, let's have a lazy morning, then you'll take me out to lunch at that place we love so much, then in the afternoon, we'll go to the pet store and get a puppy."

"Aitana," you warned her.

"In the afternoon… we’ll figure it out then," she said.

"I have to go to the office for a couple of minutes this afternoon," you lied. You needed to get her present—a small bracelet— at home. You also had to call your doctor about what happened that morning and whether you should be worried.

Honestly, you weren't scared to meet her teammates; what scared you most were her childhood best friends. They knew her since elementary school and were extremely protective, those were the ones you really had to impress.

-

After lunch, you quickly excused yourself and got to your house to get Aitana’s bracelet, and then as a way to apologize you bought her some flowers before you got back to her.

As soon as you got inside her apartment, you heard so many voices, that you never heard of. Her friends were here. Fuck. You were not ready to meet them, you subconsciously fix your beanie, and walk through the door. You are quickly met with Aitana, who meets you at the door, wanting to greet you. As soon as she saw the flowers, her smile widened. 

“Hi, Tani. I wanted to apologize for not being here in the afternoon, so I bought you these.” You explained. Handing her the flowers, while she admired them.

“I love them, thank you so much.” She stands on her tippy toes to give you a kiss, which you gladly prolonged.

After a couple of seconds, she whispered, “My friends are here, they wanted to come earlier to say hi before the party. I’m sorry I should have told you.”

You swallowed hard, and tried to keep on a smile, you weren’t ready to meet them.

“Aitana? Is Y/n here?” A voice interrupted you from replying to your girlfriend.

“We are coming!” She tells him, while she takes your hand. “They are going to love you, just as much as I do.” She reassures you casually saying the last part without even realizing it. But you did.

Before she could drag you to her living room, you drag her closer to you, placing your hands on each side of her face, lightly caressing her cheeks, and give her one final lazy kiss. “Now we are ready to go.” She gives you one last reassuring smile and showed you to her friends.

“Pepe, Juan and Maria, I want you to meet Y/n.”

“So this is the girl who has been making our Aitana talk non-stop about! For a moment I thought that you were fake!” A guy offers his hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Pepe. Nice to meet you.”

“Y/n.” You shake his hand smiling. “Nice to meet you too, Pepe. I assure you, I’m very much real.”

“Good to know! Aitana’s been going on and on about you. I was starting to think she’d invented the perfect partner in her head.” The other guy Juan interjects.

“Well, I am far from perfect, your friend is the crazy one for keeping up with me!” You chuckle, smiling gratefully to Aitana

“I think you are the crazy one to keep up with her! She can be a hassle sometimes.” Pepe, teases you girlfriends, earning a death glare from her.

“Tell me about it! She’s competitive down to her bones, she never lets me win at anything!” You follow Pepe, making Aitana turn to you. “Don’t look at me like that! You got mad because I was better than you at doing my own job.” You reason.

-

After a couple of minutes, the teasing subsided, making Aitana little more relaxed, she hated when people teased her, something that you always did, because you found her pout to be extremely cute.

You knew that probably Aitana told them not to say anything to you about you having cancer, and even though you loved that she wanted to protect you, it wasn’t something to hide or to not talk about.

As soon as Aitana left to go to the bathroom, you turn to her friends, “I know that Aitana told you not to talk to me about my cancer. But if you have any questions you can ask.” You could see that they were surprised. 

Pepe exchanged a glare with his friends, “Nah, don’t worry. We are good. I know it must be hard for the both of you. But yeah, whatever you need, we are here. My mom had cancer, so I know how it feels like.”

“Plus, I’ve always known that Aitana had somewhat of a Nightingale Syndrome!” Juan joked, making you chuckle surprised.

“Its the only possible reasoning for her to get in a relationship with me.”

“Or maybe it’s because you make me really happy and feel supported?” Aitana walk to from the bathroom and finds her place next to you wrapping an arm around you waist, waiting for you to peck her lips, which you happily oblige.

“I still think it’s the Nightingale syndrome.” You chuckle. “Let’s hope you won’t forget about me when I’ll be cancer free.” 

“You should tie her down, so she’s stuck with you.” Pepe jokes.

“I can’t get you pregnant, I’ll just have to find another way.” You think. 

“I hate this coalition against me. A I don’t have Nightingale syndrome. B, today is supposed to be my birthday, NOT tease Aitana day.”

“We are so sorry.” You give her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll never tease you again.” You lie. “Now if you let me, I’ll steal away Tani for a moment.” You take her hand and drag her to her bedroom, where you had her birthday gift.

“So I know, you told not to buy you anything, but I wanted to give you a little present. And no it’s not a puppy.”

You give her a little box. “So I know that you can’t have bracelets on you, because of football, so I found a knot that you can easily take off and put on.” She opens the box, it was a red string bracelet, which was thought to bring protection and luck. “I know you don’t like ostentatious stuff, so I went with something simple.”

“I love it. Thank you so much.” She hugged you tightly, filling your necks with small pecks. “I can wear bracelets, I’ll just have to cover it when I have a match. Can you put it on for me?”

You gently put it on for her, while she happily admires it. 

“Is it okay? I didn’t know what to gift you.” You tell her. “You have some pretty difficult taste in stuff.” You chuckle.

“I love it, really. I’ll wear it on, so that I can have a reminder of you, whenever I’m away.” She beams.

“Always so cheesy.” You kiss her lips. “I like you really really much, you know that?” You tell her.

—

Her birthday party was set to be at her house because going out was too risky—you couldn’t afford to get sick. Despite your insistence that she do whatever she wanted, she said if it were up to her, she’d spend her birthday just with you. Everyone would be coming over at 8 PM, so you had a couple of hours to get ready.

Your whole body was aching: your joints, your head, your throat—everything. But you promised yourself that it was Aitana’s day, so you’d endure the pain for her happiness. You took some painkillers, but since you weren’t used to them, they made you drowsy.

You decided to wear something simple: jeans and one of Aitana’s shirts. You loved wearing her shirts because they smelled like her, and you loved her reaction when she saw you in them. Today was no exception.

“Comfy?” she asked, emerging from the bathroom into her room where you were changing. Even though you’d been together for over two months, you hadn’t taken the next step in your relationship. Since you started chemo, your sex drive had plummeted, and you’d stopped having periods.

Aitana never brought it up, knowing it should come from you. You appreciated that she never pressured you or made you uncomfortable, but sometimes your mind would twist things, making you think she didn’t touch you because she didn’t want to. This insecurity often resurfaced at the worst times, especially when meeting people from Aitana’s life and presenting yourself as a fragile cancer patient.

“Yes, very much, thank you,” you chuckle. She rounds the bed to get closer, wrapping you in a big hug from behind.

“It’s annoying that you look better in my clothes than I do. We should swap closets,” she says, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek that makes you blush. “You look beautiful.” She turns you around and gives you a searing kiss, making your knees nearly give out. You open your eyes to see how she’s dressed.

“Even though I’m sure you could make a trash bag look hot, you look stunning tonight,”  you reply, smiling proudly. She wasn’t wearing something that elaborate, a simple dress, but it was more than enough for her to look even more beautiful than she already was. Sometimes you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have a girlfriend like her.

“I didn’t overdo it, right?” she asks, sounding insecure.

“Tani, it’s your birthday. Everyone else should adjust to how you dress,” you reassure her. “Ready to go to the living room?” You offer her your hand.

She takes it but swiftly throws you onto the bed, making you squeal in surprise. She giggles and plops on top of you. Thank God for those painkillers. “No, I want to stay here with you! You’re comfy, and you promised unlimited kisses and cuddles,” she whines.

You chuckle, gently scratching her scalp. She loved head scratches.

After a while, with Aitana rambling about the upcoming weeks, she suddenly stops and looks at you seriously. You tilt your head, curious and a bit worried.

“What?”

“Can I feel it?” she asks.

“Feel what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“The lump on your neck,” she whispers. You pat her side to make her sit up.

“I don’t think it’s the right time. I don’t want to change your mood,” you argue weakly.

“You never let me kiss or touch that side of your neck,” she says, looking down at her hands.

“Because it feels worse than it looks, and I don’t want you to freak out.”

“I want to be able to touch all of you.” You raise an eyebrow suggestively. “Okay, that sounded bad. I apologize,” she chuckles. “But you know what I mean.”

You nod, gently taking her right arm. “Are you sure?” She nods. You guide her hand to your neck. Your eyes twitch as she touches the lump.

“It feels... different than I expected,” she murmurs, her fingertips lingering on the lump, exploring it with careful curiosity. You watch her, your heart heavy, knowing she’s grappling with the reality of it.

“Yeah, it’s not just in our heads,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. Her eyes meet yours, showing a mix of fear and determination.

“It’s real,” she whispers, her voice catching. “I mean, I knew it was, but feeling it... it makes it so real.”

You nod, feeling a lump forming in your throat. “Yeah. It’s real.”

“But we’ll fight this, okay?” she says, a determined spark in her eyes giving you hope. “I’ll be by your side.”

You nod, feeling the lump in your throat tighten. “Mark my words, if we get through this, I’ll be the most supportive, fun, and grateful girlfriend you deserve. You make me so happy. I just want you to have some happiness, Tani,” you say, feeling deflated.

“I don’t need anything else,” she replies, her voice soft but firm. “Your happiness is my happiness. We’re in this together. You’re stuck with me, and we’ll come out stronger on the other side. Together.”

You squeeze her hand, drawing strength from her unwavering resolve. “Together,” you echo.

She smiles, a mix of determination and love. “Every step of the way. And when this is over, we’ll take those trips to Japan and Italy we planned, and then we’ll have our happy days, cari. But for now, we take it one day at a time.”

You nod, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “One day at a time.” You pause. “You’d tell me if it’s too much, right?”

“It’s not too much, cari.” Sensing your distress, she reassures you. “But yes, I’ll tell you if something changes.”

You give her a final hug, trying to pour all your gratitude into it. “Now, why don’t we go downstairs before one of your friends starts thinking we’re hooking up,” you say, lightening the mood as you pull away.

You head downstairs, and as you pass her friends on your way to the living room, you catch their suggestive smirks, making you blush lightly while Aitana rolls her eyes at them. You help her get everything ready and wait for the rest of the guests to arrive.

You figured her teammates knew about your cancer because when they arrived, they weren't shocked to see you without hair and visibly more tired. Aitana vividly remembered how that conversation went down.

-

It was three days before her birthday, and Aitana was in the changing room, telling her team about the small get-together she was planning at her home.

“If you want to come, I’m having a small party at my house for my birthday,” she said, inviting everyone. She knew most of the younger girls, except for Pina, Jana, and Bruna, probably wouldn’t show up.

“At home? Don’t you usually do it at a restaurant? Did you have trouble booking a place?” someone asked as most of the uninterested teammates left, leaving Aitana with her captains, the Norwegians, Mapi, Patri, the youngsters, and Rölfo.

“I’d rather do it at home. It’s quieter and we don’t have to overpay for drinks,” she said, making up an excuse. In reality, she knew you couldn’t risk going out to crowded places because of your condition. She preferred to spend her birthday with you.

“I think this has something to do with Y/n. Is she making you stay at home? Is she really jealous or something?” Patri asked, sounding more accusatory than curious.

“Y/n? She’s not that jealous. Why do I get the feeling you don’t like her?” Aitana asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern, shifting uncomfortably on her bench.

“We know she must be great, but since you got together, you never hang out with us anymore. You don’t stay after training or join us for breakfast. We’re just worried about you getting too wrapped up in the relationship,” Alexia said, her voice full of concern and care.

“She’s not making me stay home. I basically force her to hang out with me. If she knew I was skipping hangouts, she’d force me to go out with you guys,” Aitana defended your intentions, trying to make them understand you weren’t restricting her.

“Then why don’t you hang out with us anymore?” Patri pressed. “Did we do something wrong?”

Aitana sighed, feeling the weight of her friends' concerns. She knew they meant well but didn’t understand the full picture. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not about you. It’s just... Y/n has been going through a lot.” Her friends’ confused expressions spurred her on. “Y/n has cancer. And before you say anything, I knew before we got together.”

The room fell silent. Mapi’s eyes widened with shock and empathy. “Aitana, we had no idea. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“At first, I thought it was Y/n’s right to tell who she wanted about her cancer, but then she said it was best if you knew, since you’d probably meet her properly someday.”

Patri nodded, her skepticism replaced with concern. “We’re sorry if we made you feel judged. We just miss you and want to be there for you. How can we help?”

Aitana chuckled. “Well, unless you can find a magical cure for cancer, there’s not much you can do. But if it’s not too much to ask, just being there for us would mean the world.”

-

As soon as they saw you hand in hand with Aitana, two girls approached you. One was insanely tall, and the other had tattoos all over her arms.

“Hi, you must be Y/N?” the tall one said.

“Yeah, that’s me. You must be Ingrid and Mapi, right?” you asked, shaking their hands.

You noticed Mapi’s tattoos and recognized some of the designs. “I love your tattoos. Do you go to Javi?”

“Yeah! How did you know?” she looked surprised.

“We went to school together. He’s one of my best friends. I helped him out with some designs.”

“Oh, that’s awesome! He mentioned a friend helped with some designs, but I never imagined it was you,” Mapi exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Javi is amazing. He did this sleeve for me,” she said, showing off the intricate designs on her arm. “It’s one of my favorites.”

You recognized some of your own designs. “I did the skull with the lightbulb and the squirrel!”

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Mapi said excitedly. “The skull with the lightbulb is one of my favorites. And the squirrel is such a fun piece!”

You smiled, feeling proud. “I’m really glad you like them. It’s always nice to see my work out in the world.”

Aitana turned to you with a surprised smile. “I didn’t know you could draw!”

You shrugged modestly, feeling bashful under Aitana’s gaze. “It’s just a hobby. Javi and I used to spend hours sketching together before getting busy with work.”

Ingrid looked impressed. “A hobby? You’ve got real talent. You should definitely do more with it. I know for sure that Mapi would love a few more tattoos.”

“Do you have any tattoos?” Mapi asked curiously.

You blushed lightly. “I have three.” Aitana's head snapped towards you, her eyes wide with surprise.

“What?!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen them.”

“Don’t act too surprised, Tani. They’re well hidden.” You turned to Mapi and Ingrid, who were waiting for you to continue. “I have one that’s a one-inch line from my favorite movie, *V for Vendetta*: The second one is a quote, and the third... well, it’s a bit more hidden. Let’s just say that.” You winked at Aitana.

You got your first two tattoos when you were 18. The first was significant to you, a permanent reminder of something important. The second was more cheeky, known only to those who’ve seen you naked and your friend Eva. It was a small outline of a heart on one of your ass cheeks. Your third tattoo was one of your favorite quotes from the painter Artemisia Gentileschi: “You will find the spirit of Caesar in this soul of a woman.”

Aitana looked like she wanted to say more, but as soon as you saw Ciro come inside, you quickly excused yourself to greet him.

“I’m going to say hi to Ciro.” You turned to Aitana, giving her a lingering kiss, not too long to draw attention. Then you turned to her teammates. “It was lovely to meet you guys. I hope we can talk more about some tattoo ideas.” You walked away, hugging your brother.

Mapi and Ingrid turned to Aitana, who was still looking at you, smiling to herself.

Ingrid chuckled at Aitana’s state, making her turn her attention to her teammates. “Sorry.” She bowed her head, her cheeks turning rosy. “You really love her, don’t you?”

Aitana’s blush deepened, and she couldn’t help but smile even wider. “Yeah, I really do,” she admitted warmly. “She’s amazing. I’m still finding out new things about her every day, and I love it. Plus, she’s so strong and fearless.” She glanced at you, laughing with your brother. “I can’t believe she’s my girl. She’s just incredible.”

“And so hot!” Mapi said without thinking, earning a death glare from her own girlfriend.

“She is! It’s so frustrating sometimes,” Aitana agreed, laughing.

-

Meanwhile, you were grabbing drinks with Ciro when the nausea hit again. Not wanting to make a scene, you excused yourself and headed to the bathroom to throw up. Ciro quickly noticed something was wrong and followed you.

He knocked on the door. "It's Ciro, can you let me in?"

You sighed and unlocked the door. Another wave of nausea hit, and you doubled over the toilet, trying to keep quiet. Ciro crouched next to you, rubbing your back soothingly. Once the wave passed, you leaned back against the wall, exhausted.

"Y/N, this is serious," Ciro said quietly, concern on his face. "You need to tell Aitana."

You shook your head weakly. "Not tonight, Ciro. It's her birthday party. I don't want to ruin it."

"How long has this been going on?" he asked, continuing to rub your back.

"Since this morning. I took a painkiller because all my joints are killing me. Why did it have to be today?" You looked up at the ceiling, exasperated.

Ciro sighed deeply. "Y/N, you can't keep pushing yourself like this. You need to take care of yourself, even if it means taking a step back tonight."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "I know, Ciro. But I just want Aitana to have a perfect night. She's been looking forward to this for so long."

Ciro gave you a sympathetic look. "I get it. But she loves you and would want you to be okay more than anything else. Let's get you through tonight, and then you need to rest. Promise me."

"Okay," you agreed reluctantly. "I promise."

Ciro helped you to your feet, and you steadied yourself before brushing your teeth. You tried to put on a brave face, but the exhaustion and nausea were hard to hide.

As you reentered the party, Aitana immediately noticed something was off. She walked over, concern on her face. "Hey, are you sure you're okay? You don't look well."

You gave her a reassuring smile, even though you felt far from it. "I'm okay, just a bit tired. Don't worry about me, let's enjoy your party."

You went to the kitchen for some water and then stepped outside for fresh air. Ciro followed, keeping an eye on you.

Outside, you lit a cigarette, something you hadn't done in years, and slowly inhaled, feeling a calming effect. You knew it was wrong, but you needed some relief.

“You must be the art restorer?” one of Aitana’s teammates asked.

You turned to her. “That’s me.”

“I’m Alexia.”

"Tani’s team captain. I’ve heard about you… Please don’t tell her I smoke. It’s my first in years."

“Do you have another one?” she asked, surprising you with the request.

You hesitated before handing her the pack. Alexia took one and lit it, taking a slow drag before exhaling. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the cool night air providing some relief.

"Thanks," Alexia said softly. "I won't tell Aitana. We all have our vices."

You nodded, taking another drag. "Yeah, we do."

Alexia studied you for a moment. "So, how long have you been an art restorer?"

You smiled, grateful for the distraction. "About six years now. It's my passion, bringing old pieces back to life."

She nodded appreciatively. "That's really cool. Aitana talks about you all the time. It's obvious how much she cares about you."

Your heart ached at her words. "I care about her too. More than anything."

Alexia smiled, taking another drag. "It's great to see. She's special, and she deserves someone who loves her as much as you do."

You nodded, feeling the weight of your secret pressing on you. The night air, mixed with the cigarette smoke, made you slightly dizzy, but you steadied yourself. "Thanks, Alexia. That means a lot coming from you."

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a while, just taking in the night and the muffled sounds of the party inside.

"So, what brought you out here, really?" Alexia asked, breaking the silence. "You don't seem like the type to sneak out for a smoke."

You hesitated, the truth bubbling up inside you. "I hate meeting new people. I have to charge my social battery." You chuckled.

“Tell me about it. I have to endure hours of media every week.”

You both finished your cigarettes. Alexia handed you a mint chewing gum, and the two of you headed back inside.

Everyone was mingling in small groups. You were about to speak when you felt a body collide with yours in a hug.

“Damn, Tani, you still have energy at 11 PM!” You chuckled, pulling her into a tight hug.

She shrugged. “I was searching for you everywhere. I missed you!”

“I was with Alexia, getting some fresh air, Tani,” you reassured her. You could see in her eyes that she wanted some attention, so you quickly said your goodbyes to Alexia and focused on the birthday girl.

She took your hand and led you to the living room, where some friends were chatting. She sat down on the couch and pulled you onto her lap, circling her arms around your waist.

"You know, I think I missed you more," you teased, leaning in to kiss her softly.

Aitana laughed, her eyes twinkling. "That's impossible. But I'll let you think that."

The warmth of her embrace and the lively chatter around you made it easier to forget about everything else for a moment. You nestled into her, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back.

The room was filled with laughter and light, and for a while, you allowed yourself to relax and enjoy the festivities.

“So, tell me more about this art restoration,” Fridolina, one of Aitana’s friends, piped up. “I’ve always been fascinated by that kind of work.”

You smiled, grateful for the distraction. “It’s incredibly rewarding. There’s something magical about bringing old, forgotten pieces back to life.”

“That sounds amazing,” Ingrid chimed in, her eyes wide with interest. “Do you have a favorite piece you’ve worked on?”

You thought for a moment. “There was this old Renaissance painting that came into the studio a few years ago. It was in terrible shape, covered in grime and with a lot of damage. It was from Artemisia Gentileschi, a very particular painter. She was one of the few female artists of her time, and her works are incredibly powerful and brutal. Restoring her painting felt like reviving a piece of her story.”

Aitana’s friends listened intently, clearly captivated by your passion. Aitana squeezed your hand, her pride in you evident.

"Which painting was it?" Fridolina asked, leaning forward with interest.

"It was 'Judith Slaying Holofernes.' The details, the intensity in Judith’s expression, and the dramatic use of light and shadow—it’s breathtaking. Bringing that piece back to its original glory was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my career."

"Wow," Ingrid said, visibly impressed. "It must be amazing to see the transformation up close."

"It is," you agreed. "There’s something almost intimate about it, like connecting with the artist across centuries."

The conversation flowed easily, with Aitana’s friends asking more questions about your work and sharing their own interests. The night wore on, filled with laughter and joy.

As the party began to wind down and the majority of the guests left, you found a quiet moment with Aitana on the balcony. The city lights illuminated the ambient below, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves around you.

“Thank you for tonight. I know you were feeling sick and kept going for me. Next time, please don’t do it.”

You gave her a reassuring smile, taking her hands in yours. “I wanted to be here for you, Tani. You mean the world to me. But I promise, I’ll take better care of myself. I won’t push it next time.”

She sighed, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I just worry about you. I want you to be okay.”

“I know, and I appreciate it,” you said, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll be more careful. I don’t want to worry you.”

Aitana looked up at you, her eyes filled with love and concern. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace. “We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding solace in the quiet night and the love you shared. Despite the challenges ahead, you felt a renewed sense of strength and determination, knowing that you had Aitana by your side.

After a few moments, Aitana pulled back slightly and looked into your eyes. “Let’s go inside and get some rest. You need it.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling in. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

As you walked back into the apartment, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for Aitana and the love you shared. It gave you the strength to face whatever lay ahead, knowing that together, you could overcome anything.

You both went to the bedroom and got ready to sleep. You wore one of Aitana’s joggers and a shirt you brought for the sleepover. Aitana came out from the bathroom after getting into her sleepwear and sat on the bed, taking off her earrings.

After a couple of minutes, she turned to you, seeing you already sitting on the bed, setting your alarm clock. She rolled over to you with a waiting gaze, clearly wanting to ask you something.

“What?”

“You could have told me that you had three tattoos.” She pouted slightly.

“Well, you never asked.” You smirked playfully.

“Now I’m asking. Can I see them?”

You hesitated. Your first tattoo, the line, was right under your breast, the second one was on your side, and the third... you definitely wanted to wait for her to see it.

You were nervous about showing her your body, as she had never seen you without a shirt on. The changes from cancer and seeing Aitana’s teammates tonight had made you feel inadequate. 

Aitana noticed your hesitation, her expression softening. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to show me if you’re not comfortable,” she said gently, reaching out to take your hand.

You took a deep breath, deciding to take a step forward in vulnerability. “It’s not that I don’t want to show you… it’s just, you’ve never seen me without a shirt, so I guess I’m a little bit scared?” You tried to be honest with her.

Aitana’s eyes widened in surprise and concern. “Why would you be scared? I think you are beautiful, both in and out.”

You looked down, feeling a lump in your throat. “My body… it’s changed a lot because of the cancer. I don’t look the same as I used to, and seeing your teammates tonight just made me feel… inadequate.”

Aitana’s grip on your hand tightened, and she pulled you into a hug. “Y/N, you’re beautiful to me. You’ve been through so much, and I admire your strength. I don’t care about how your body looks; I care about you, the person I fell in love with.”

Her words were like a balm to your anxious mind. You took another deep breath and decided to trust her completely. “Okay. I’ll show you.”

You raised your shirt, stopping just before your breast, showing her the first tattoo. She lightly traced the ink with adoration.

“The second one is on the side, it’s a quote.” You revealed it. “Troverete lo spirito di Cesare in questa anima di donna.” You repeated the quote. “Which means: You will find the spirit of Caesar in this soul of a woman.” She lightly caressed your side where the quote showed.

“They are all beautiful. Damn, I didn’t think you’d be someone who had tattoos.”

“I guess you don’t know everything about me then.”

“What about your third?”

“Well, that one I got on a whim. Not many people have seen it.” You smirked suggestively.

“Well, now I’m curious.” She was intrigued.

“I won’t show it to you now if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Okay, okay, I respect that. I am a very patient woman; I’ll wait. Can you just tell me where it is?” She pleaded curiously.

“I’ll tell you this, the only people who have seen it are Eva, because I was with her when I got it, and the people who have seen me naked.”

Aitana's eyes widened with curiosity and a hint of playfulness. "Well, now you have me even more intrigued," she said, chuckling. "But I can wait. It’ll make it all the more special when I do see it."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. Her understanding and patience were just a few of the many reasons you loved her so much. "I promise you’ll see it when the time is right," you said softly.

Aitana leaned in and kissed you gently. "I look forward to it. Thank you for sharing this with me tonight. It means a lot.”

As you both settled into bed, you positioned yourself on top of her to give her one final kiss. “Good night, Tani. I hope you had fun tonight.” You rolled over to your side, getting into a comfy position to sleep, while your girlfriend was already half asleep.

She replied lazily and almost unconsciously. “I had fun, good night Cari. I love you.” You widened your eyes as a smile crept on your cheeks.

-

Three months into your relationship, you couldn’t be happier. Your cancer was receding, and you were nearly finished with your fifth cycle of chemo before discussing the next steps with your doctor.

Three days before Aitana was set to leave for Bilbao for the Copa de la Reina semi-final, you visited the doctor’s office. Ciro took a day off work to accompany you. Your oncologist, who was serious but supportive, greeted you.

“So, Y/N, I have good news and bad news.” Your heart skipped a beat. “Good news: your cancer is receding. The treatment is going great, and I think we should operate, perform a thyroidectomy as soon as possible. Thursday would be ideal.”

You sighed in relief, almost at the end of this ordeal.

“The bad news is the position of the cancer. We might be able to remove it completely, but there are risks. Your cancer is very close to your vocal cords. You might lose your voice.”

You had never considered that possibility. “What’s the probability it might go wrong?” you asked fearfully.

“30%. I know it’s a significant risk, but it’s the best solution. We can fully remove it. No more chemo, no more suffering.” Seeing your hesitation, he added, “I won’t ask you to decide right now. Take some hours to think about it. But the sooner we act, the better.”

Your doctor left the room to give you some privacy.

You turned to Ciro. “I don’t think there’s any real choice, is there?”

“No, there isn’t, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

After informing your doctor that you agreed to the operation, you headed home, while Ciro had to return to work for training. 

Thirty minutes later, you heard a knock on your door. Knowing it was probably Aitana, you opened it to find her holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers that hid her face. She peeked out, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Surprise!” she said, handing you the flowers.

You hugged her. “You really know how to make a girl swoon, Tani.”

“Only for you.” You took the flowers and kissed her in gratitude.

You led her inside and prepared a snack for both of you. She sat on the couch, waiting. As you sat down next to her, she leaned in for another kiss. “What was that for?” you asked.

“Can’t I kiss my beautiful girlfriend?”

“Anytime you like.”

“How was the doctor’s appointment?” she asked as you cuddled up.

You sat up. “The treatment is working, and they want to operate. My cancer is receding, and it might go away completely with the operation.” Your tone wasn’t as optimistic as your words.

She sensed there was more. “That’s great! But why do you look so worried? Is there a but?”

“Two. First, the surgery is on Thursday during the Copa de la Reina semi-final. And before you say anything, no, I won’t let you skip it. You’ve already missed two matches because of me, without even telling me.”

“And the other?” she asked, defeated.

“I might lose my voice.”

Aitana’s eyes widened with concern. “But if it’s your best shot at beating cancer, wouldn’t you take it?”

“I’ve already agreed, Aitana. But that’s not the point. Promise me something?”

“Anything,” she said seriously.

"You'll leave me if I lose my voice, okay?"

She blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"I don’t want you to be with someone you have to constantly take care of. You deserve so much better."

"No, no, no," she said, shaking her head and taking your hands. "You can’t ask me that. I won’t leave you. You’re stuck with me, okay?"

You chuckled, feeling a lump in your throat. "I’m doing this for you. This is an out. Why can’t you take it?"

"Because I don’t want to!" she said, almost angrily. "Don’t push me away, please."

"I’m not pushing you away. I’m doing this for you. You deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you everything. And right now, I can’t. For god’s sake, we’ve been together for five months, and I can’t even take my shirt off in front of you!" you reasoned, your frustration mounting.

She looked shocked, almost taken aback. "Is... Is this about sex?"

You hid your face in your palms. "No... I mean... I don’t know," you stuttered.

"No. No, Cari, sex has never been an issue for me. You’re going through cancer; it’s normal that you don’t want to have sex."

"I know, but what about your needs?"

"My needs? I’ve waited eighteen years of my life without sex. I can deal with waiting for a while," she reassured you. "Plus, the wait will make it even better!"

"You know, I’d get it if you wanted to find someone else to be physical with. I wouldn’t blame you."

"And kiss someone else? Touch someone else? Make someone else feel good? Never," she reassured you. "You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. You make me so happy. Why would I jeopardize that for some fleeting pleasure?"

"You always say that I’m beautiful. But... Do you find me hot?" you almost whispered the last part.

Aitana's expression softened, and she cupped your face gently, her thumb tracing your cheek. 

"Y/N, you are the most gorgeous person I know. You’re beautiful, inside and out. And yes, I find you incredibly hot."

You still looked unconvinced, so she quickly made you sit on her lap and unzipped her hoodie, remaining in her shirt. She took your hand and guided it inside her shirt next to her heart. It was beating fast.

"Do you feel it? This is what you do to me. Whenever you sit on my lap or nibble that part of my ear that you know is so sensitive, you make my heart race out of proportion. And so fucking wet that it hurts sometimes." You chuckled, feeling her heart pounding. "Don’t ever doubt my attraction or my loyalty towards you," she told you firmly, making you believe her. You nodded. "And don’t you dare think for even a minute that I’ll leave you if you lose your voice. We’re in this together, and we’ll find a solution together," she said resolutely.

-

-

On Wednesday, the day before the game, Aitana brought you to the hospital and helped you check in. 

You sat on the hospital bed, waiting for your doctor. "I’ll be here as soon as the game finishes, okay? Tell Ciro to send me updates, or else I’ll kill him." She kissed your temple and was about to leave when you took her hand to stop her.

"I want to tell you something. Maybe tomorrow I won’t be able to. I know I’ve never said it; I’ve always waited."

"You’ll tell me when I get back."

"No, please, Tani, let me say it. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t tell you right now." She nodded. "I love you, Aitana Bonmatí. Today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and all the days after that."

"I love you too, Cari." She rubbed her nose against yours and kissed you on the lips. 

"Go and beat Athletic’s club ass, okay?”

--

Needless to say, until she saw you again, Aitana couldn’t keep her mind off you. Her teammates noticed she wasn't focused on the game, and Mapi pulled her aside during the warm-up.

"Hey, Aitana, are you okay?" Fridolina asked, concern evident in her voice.

Aitana sighed, running a hand through her hair. "No, not really. Y/N is having surgery right now, and I can't stop thinking about it. I'm worried."

Frido placed a comforting hand on Aitana's shoulder. "I get it, but you have to try and focus on the game for now. She'd want you to give it your all out there. Besides, we're all here for you. If you need anything, just let us know."

Aitana nodded, taking a deep breath. "Thanks, Frido. I'll try my best."

As the game progressed, Aitana pushed herself to concentrate, channeling her anxiety into her performance. Every time she made a play, she thought of you, imagining how proud you'd be. Despite the distraction, she played one of her best games, driven by the desire to make you proud.

When the final whistle blew, Barcelona had secured a resounding victory. Aitana immediately checked her phone, finding a message from Ciro: “Surgery is done. We don’t know anything right now.”

Fear washed over her, and her hands started to tremble as her mind filled with what-ifs. She looked down at the bracelet you had gifted her, seeking comfort. She couldn’t lose you. Most importantly, she needed to get back to you.

She got on the first plane and left for Barcelona.

[wchswift]

HABZHSBAH HIII LINAAA (it's me again 😭) gosh i don't want to appear as a desperate but it seems that you're the only who opens your request for leopold 😔😭

just a small request :3 from a prompt that i encountered "... sorry, i talked too much" "no no no not at all, keep talking. i love listening to you."

well, we all know what a gentleman leopold is HABSUSBSH (I NEED HIM SO BAD MY BABY), i don't have any plot in mind so maybe you could create yours based on the prompt?? thank you!! (i love your writings)

Every Word You Say

Pairing: Leopold Mountbatten x Reader Content: strangers to friends to lovers (kind of), yapping, fluff, reader is a bookworm, Leopold is head over heels, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 2.6k (maybe I got a little excited) a/n: HIII ZAYN BESTIE!! I'm so happy you're sending me requests yayy, thanks to you I could write to Leopold my baby again (pls keep going)! okay I have to admit that I loved this prompt and maybe I got a little carried away about the plot... Maybe I've strayed a little from what you wanted (I hope not), but I really hope you like it cause I really enjoyed writing it <3

It was a good afternoon. The store was quiet, as usual, with only a few customers coming and going and not much activity. Afternoons like that were nice—there wasn't much work to do, but sales were enough to keep the place from feeling forgotten. This allowed some time to relax behind the counter and arrange books on the shelves.

The faint jingling of the brass bell above the door broke the comforting silence of the shop. The sound made her look up from the stack of books on the counter, brushing a stray hair from her face as she spotted the man who had just entered.

He was tall and impeccably dressed, with an air of calm that seemed at odds with the frenetic city outside. His coat was neatly buttoned, his shoes polished, and he carried himself with a poise that made her pause. New Yorkers weren’t usually this... composed. It was weird. But most importantly, he was so beautiful.

“Hi, good afternoon,” she greeted, flashing him a polite smile. “Let me know if I can help you find anything.”

The man hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes scanning the shelves. “Thank you,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, the kind of voice that made even the most mundane words sound elegant.

She went back to organizing her stack of books, sneaking a glance now and then as he browsed. He moved slowly, as though savoring the sight of each title, his fingers brushing over the spines like they were relics. Finally, he stopped at the classics section and pulled out a leather-bound book.

He turned to her, holding the book aloft. “This edition of The Odyssey... it’s rather splendid. Do you recommend it?”

She blinked, surprised at his formality. “Oh, definitely. It’s one of my favorites. That edition has some great commentary in the back, too. Though, fair warning, if you get me started on books, I might not shut up.” She confessed, her tone amusing but gentle.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I assure you, I regret nothing. Please, continue.”

She smiled genuinely at him, feeling a small flutter of surprise at his response. Most people gave a polite nod or chuckle when she rambled, but this man seemed really interested. Encouraged, she leaned against the counter, her hands gesturing animatedly as she began talking.

“You can’t go wrong with The Odyssey,” she said. “I mean, it’s a classic for a reason, right? Epic journeys, gods meddling in human affairs, monsters… And don’t get me started on Odysseus himself. Brilliant, but also kind of an idiot, if you ask me.” She laughed, then quickly added, “Oh, but you know... I mean that in the best way, of course.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Hm, Is that so? Fascinating perspective. You find fault with his decisions?”

“Oh, plenty,” she replied, warming to the topic. “Some of his problems are his own fault—like the whole Cyclops thing? That could’ve been avoided if he’d just kept his mouth shut. But that’s what makes him interesting. He’s flawed. Human. It makes the story feel timeless, even though it’s thousands of years old.”

As the words tumbled out of her, she noticed his expression soften. His gaze didn’t waver, his posture relaxed yet attentive, as though he were cataloging every word she said.

So she just kept talking, completely oblivious to him or how he was mesmerized watching her, the excitement and ease with which she lost herself in the topic. After a moment like that, it was like something hit her, realizing how much she’d been talking, she stopped abruptly, her cheeks heating. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that. You came for the books and probably weren’t expecting an impromptu lecture on Greek mythology.”

He tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening. “Not at all. Your enthusiasm is... refreshing. Please, go on.”

Her lips twitched in a smile of her own. “You’re dangerous, you know that? Most people try to shut me up, but not you. You’re encouraging me.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would wish you to stop,” he replied earnestly.

The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She licked her lips, momentarily speechless and lost in him. After that, she just knew she would want to keep him in her life for as long as possible.

After that, it didn’t take long for him to return.

As she rearranged a display near the window the next afternoon, the bell above the door jingled again. She glanced up, half-expecting the usual flow of customers, only to see the same man from the day before.

He greeted her with the same polite nod and reserved smile, his gaze sweeping over the shop like he was committing every detail to memory.

“Back so soon?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

He stopped near the counter, his posture impeccably straight. “I enjoyed our conversation yesterday. And I have a fondness for bookshops.”

“Well, then you’ve come to the right place,” she said, gesturing to the shelves around them. “Find anything interesting today?”

He paused, his gaze flicking to the classics section before returning to her. “Not yet, but I have no doubt you will recommend something.”

“Challenge accepted,” she said, already scanning the shelves in her mind for the perfect book. "Oh, sorry. What's your name again?"

As the days passed, Leopold's visits became routine. He would step into the shop with that same calm air, and they would talk—about books, history, the city, and whatever topic struck her fancy. He never seemed to mind when she rambled, always listening with the kind of focus that made her feel like the most fascinating person in the room. Something she wasn't even a little bit used to, by the way.

Their interaction was so easy and natural. When she talked to him, was always exciting and gave her a feeling of comfort. So it wasn't exactly a surprise when she quickly grew accustomed to his presence. It was strange how easily he fit into the rhythm of her days, even though she knew so little about him.

Each time he came in, she found herself lighting up in ways she hadn’t expected. She would recommend books, tease him about his formal speech, and talk about whatever was on her mind, and he never failed to listen with unwavering attention. She never, not once, felt uncomfortable or unseen in his presence. He was like a prince in a fairy tale.

One rainy afternoon, as she stacked a new shipment of books behind the counter, the man who wouldn't leave her thoughts walked in with droplets clinging to his coat and hair. She glanced up, smiling automatically.

“Caught in the rain, huh?” she asked, setting down the stack.

“Indeed,” he said, brushing water from his sleeves. “Though I find it a small price to pay for the solace this shop provides.” He complimented, in his usual formal way.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You always know how to make the place sound fancier than it is. It’s just a bookshop, you know.”

He tilted his head, a faint smile gracing his lips. “To you, perhaps. To me, it is quite extraordinary.”

The quiet sincerity in his voice made her breath catch for a moment. She quickly looked away, fiddling with a loose thread on her sleeve.

“Well,” she said, her tone lighter, “if you’re going to keep flattering the place, I should at least give you a tour of the neighborhood. There are some other spots I think you’d like—if you’re interested.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, as though the suggestion surprised him. “I would be delighted,” he said, feeling his heart race.

This finally happened two days later.

The city bustled around them, cars honking and voices blending into a constant hum, but she took him down quieter streets, pointing out her favorite spots.

“This café has the best pastries,” she said, gesturing to a small storefront with a faded awning. “And the park a few blocks down is great if you need to get away from all this.”

He listened attentively, nodding at her words but occasionally glancing around with a furrowed brow, as though trying to make sense of his surroundings.

When they reached a crosswalk she stepped forward without thinking, only to realize he hadn’t moved. She turned back to see him standing on the curb, watching the cars zip by with a look of mild apprehension.

“Hey, you coming?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Is it always this... chaotic?” he asked, his tone half-amused, half-exasperated.

“Pretty much. You just have to commit to it.” She grabbed his arm lightly, tugging him forward as the light changed. “Come on—don’t think, just go.”

He followed reluctantly, muttering under his breath, “This city has no regard for decorum—or the sanctity of life.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I swear you'll get used to it. Well, eventually.”

As they walked through the park, the noise of the streets faded behind them, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of joggers. She led him to a bench near a small fountain, sitting down and patting the spot next to her.

“See? Not so bad, right?” she said, leaning back with a contented sigh.

He settled beside her, his posture as upright as ever. “It is... quieter than I expected,” he admitted. “Rather pleasant, in fact.”

“I knew you’d like it,” she said, smiling. “You know, You're not as hard to please as you seem.”

He gave her a sidelong glance, his lips twitching in a faint smile. “Oh, I imagine this is good?”

She laughed softly, and for a moment they sat in comfortable silence, watching the fountain's water ripple in the breeze. They enjoyed being at peace, simply appreciating each other's company.

That evening, he returned to the bookshop. The streets were quieter now, the glow of the streetlights casting long shadows across the floor as she tidied up before closing.

He lingered by the counter as she talked, her words spilling out in an excited stream as she recounted a childhood memory sparked by a book she’d come across earlier that day.

“So when I was ten, I had this phase where I was obsessed with The Secret Garden,” she said, gesturing as she spoke. “I even convinced my dad to help me plant this tiny garden in our backyard. Except, I was an awful gardener—I kept forgetting to water it, and half the flowers were just weeds I thought looked cool.”

She laughed, shaking her head at the memory. “But I’d still sit out there for hours, waiting for my own magical door to appear. My dad always called it my ‘weed palace.’”

Leopold chuckled softly, his smile warm. “A ‘weed palace,’ you say? Peculiar, but at the same time charming.”

“Well, maybe to you,” she replied, grinning. “To everyone else, it was probably an eyesore.”

She paused, glancing at the clock and suddenly realizing how long she’d been talking. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced at him.

“Oh God... I’m sorry, I talked too much. I really need to learn when to stop.”

Leopold, who has been utterly captivated, loses the humor in his eyes, his expression shifting to something quieter, warmer as he tries to reassure her.

“No, no, not at all. Keep talking. I love listening to you.” he said softly.

Her breath caught at the earnestness in his voice, the way his gaze held hers as though he truly meant every word. For a few seconds, she could only stare, her usual quick wit failing her.

“Thanks,” she murmured finally, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

The warmth in his eyes didn’t waver, and in that quiet moment, the bustling world outside seemed to fade away entirely.

A comfortable silence settled in for a few minutes. Leaving them there, just staring at each other, observing each other. For a moment, she didn't know what else to say. People didn’t usually look at her the way he was now—like every word she said was worth hearing. It was flattering, a little unnerving, but mostly... nice. She blinked a few times, adjusting her posture while lightly playing with her hair, hoping to dispel the warmth creeping into her cheeks.

The quiet between them was the kind of silence that felt full, warm, and fascinating. She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, glancing at him as he remained by the counter, looking as though he had something more to say.

Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke, her voice soft. “You know, you’re a pretty good listener. Most people get bored with my stories halfway through.”

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into that faint, knowing smile she was beginning to adore. “I find your stories enchanting. They are... a window into a world I often feel I’m only just discovering.”

Her brow furrowed at the odd phrasing, but before she could question it, he stepped a little closer, his hands gently resting on the counter. His gaze softened, the usual formality in his expression giving way to something more vulnerable.

“It’s rare,” he continued, his voice low, “to find someone who speaks with such passion. Most people... say so little of consequence. But you—your words, your thoughts—they breathe life into even the most mundane things.”

Her heart gave a tiny flutter, and she felt warmth creep up her neck again. “That’s... really sweet of you to say,” she murmured, looking down at her hands.

For a brief moment, uncertainty flickered across his face. He took a deep breath, then, with a soft, deliberate motion, tilted his head to meet her eyes. The sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable as he declared, “I speak only the truth.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a spark of something unnameable through her chest, and she met his gaze, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“Well,” she said lightly, trying to steady her voice, “if you keep flattering me like that, I might start to think you enjoy my company.”

His smile deepened, feeling more real, with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I should hope that has been apparent for some time.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re kind of a mystery, you know that? But... I think I like that about you.”

“And you,” he said, his tone softening again, “are an open book. A rare and beautiful one.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away from him. The faint glow of the shop’s dim lighting reflected in his eyes, and the quiet hum of the world outside seemed to fade entirely. She momentarily dropped her gaze to his lips before his voice brought her back.

“Would you,” he began, his voice careful, almost hesitant, “permit me the honor of accompanying you on another of your walks? Perhaps tomorrow?”

She bit her lip, her heart racing in a way that felt new and thrilling, together with the urge to jump into his arms. “I think I’d like that,” she replied, her voice just above a whisper.

He straightened slightly, a look of quiet satisfaction crossing his face. “Then it’s settled.”

As the bell above the door jingled softly, signaling his departure, she stood there for a moment, watching him disappear into the night. She closed her eyes as a painful smile appeared on her face, she quickly did a happy dance before lightly resting her hands on the counter.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

hi✨adore your thoughts and headcanons to the moon and back with how detailed and in character they are. dark!percy has always been incredibly alluring and fascinating, so I was wondering about your presentation/analysis of him. if you're comfortable (if not, it's totally okay and just ignore it!), could you write percy and child of any "dark" like hades, or hecate, nyx (or whoever) god, who understands how scary and tough it can be when you and your powers are so destructive, and they help him to kinda adjust to this side of him and understand that he isn't a bad person for that (cause this guy already has a lot of self hatred). maybe kinda chaotic dumbass enemies to lovers? sfw or nswf - whatever works for you. sorry for this ramble! just so many thoughts about him...

hope you have a good time of a day🤟

DARK!Percy headcanons

authors note: Can I just say, I've been WAITING for a question like this. More Dark Percy headcanons everyone!! plss!!

warnings: mentions of abuse & neglect, suicidal and intrusive thoughts, impulsive thoughts, mentions of eating disorder, chaotic family life, Gabe Ugliano...

okay, this is a mixture of headcanons of his CHILDHOOD but also an ANALYSIS of DARK PERCY.

cigarette burns from Gabe. Not just because Gabe did it, some of Gabes older friends (a long time ago, before the lightning theaf book) told Percy to come closer and burnt it into his forearm. Gabes eyes turned into shock but then he poked a tongue in his cheek and scoffed in laughter, giving Percy a judgemental look - *its a classic look, the type of look you give someone when you're looking down on them.

Percy would be so angry at Gabe, sometimes he would snap and tell him to shut up because Gabe would watch TV late in the night and fall asleep with the TV on until morning. At some point, Percy opened the door and screamed on the top of his lungs to shut the fuck up, slamming the door, sleep deprived and exhausted, locking the bedroom door bc he was scared Gabe would do something - and sobbed loudly. He was just a kid, but he already learnt how to fight. Sally tried to give reassurance but Percy wouldnt open the door. The incident was deemed "nightmares" on Percy's part, and Sally let him sleep in her bed.

Sally and Gabe never shared a bed. Gabe snores, sometimes even has nightmares, other time she would bother Sally about a new babyboy they could have, as if Percy wasn't good enough to be his son.

One time Sally asked Percy if he ever wanted siblings. the truth is, yes, but with Gabe Ugliano? no way. fuck no. He said no in a really moody and almost bitchy way, and walked out of the house and went to school.

Percy had the habit of keeping his shoulders scrunched up when he slept. He still does, but he doesn't understand why his body tenses up when he sleeps - Gabe isn't there anymore.

He also had the habit of lowering his head, shoulders and hunching when he walked - but once he met Annabeth over the summer he kept his back more straight - and never hanged his head when he walked. He noticed and felt more relief.

When people asked what he was doing for the summer, weight was lifted off his shoulders when he said SUMMER CAMP - finally he had something to do during summer! Every kid in school went somewhere nice, now even Percy does. He felt like he could finally share a bit of the same intrests as everyone else. He could actually tell people about his summer.

You know when the teacher forces everyone to tell a little bit about their summer - now finally percy could say confidendtly he did somethign fun instead of making something up.

struggles with anger, but understand it got so bad he broke his own first laptop 3.5months of having it - he broke the screen in half with his bare hands. He regretted it so much and hid it but his Sally found out.

Regrettfully, this made Percy believe he would always ruin/sabotage things for himself, and that he doesn't deserve nice things. Letting his mother buy his clothes, never aksing for new clothes... whats the point?

Besides, Gabe was stingy with his money. Gabe even refused to buy shampoo which is stupid cause its cheap asf - but Gabe wanted the feeling of control.

the dynamic of the family and house changed. The living room was Gabes, not Sally and Percy's spot. Gabe even took Percy's side of the couch and his spot at the dining table. Percy stubbornly refused to move, but Gabe is scary and big for his size so he did it to be civil for his mother. He felt like he lost something that day.

When Gabe was out late, Percy would lock the door and put the chain on. Gabe would unlock the door and try to get inside, but the chain stopped him. Gabed huffed in frustration and Sally had to get up and open the door - which burned Percys heart because he realized that nothing could keep Gabe out.

Percy would generally be a very bitter person to be around, people would shy away from him and sometimes stop talking when he tried to join in.

self image, self-confidence and self respect was low. But actually scratch that, his self respect was high. he put boundaries down pretty fast with other people because he knew everything that gabe did was no, and everything that sally did was yes. but at some point he disliked Sallys touch just slightly bit, because he knew Gabe had held her hand earlier.

he would talk to sally for hours on the couch, but as soon as the door clicked opened he walked to his room and closed the door. He didnt want to be near gabe. but then gabe started to trash his room, and percy was basically forced to sit in the living room.

he felt like he was playing "family" or pretending everything was okay, as if Gabe wasn't neglectful, but he felt sick.

At some point Percy's anxiety and stress because to normalized within himself that he nowadays cant tell what anxiety even is - and he would sometimes even say hes never had anxiety, because its basically been with him from such a young age, he cant tell the difference.

pretending to be "family" was even worse walking around the mall with sally and gabe. gabe was just this big giant slob of goo that would follow everywhere, and gabe would even huff and puff shamelessly if they were taking too long. gabe even got angry if sally found something nice for herself, he was possesive.

started taking only an apple with him to lunch, 1. he thought he was fat. 2. gabe wouldnt buy anything he liked and they had to stick with the basics. 3.his lunch was embarrassing even though everyone ate cafeteria food.

he got so happy the first time he could bring something "normal" to eat or if he got money to buy lunch, his reason being that he could finally "blend in" insteading standing out as a "freak".

he has a burn mark on the backside of his ankle, near his achillies, burn himself bc of Gabe.

hates it if someone traces the cigarette scars on his arm, even hates it if Annabeth does it - he still struggles with his self image and probably wont like that part of himself until he grows old and gray.

one time he vented to someone about his childhood and they stopped talking to him. never spoke ever since, was afraid that someone would use it against him. hasn't even told his mom or sally half of the things Gabe said or did to him/behind his back.

one time gabe pissed on the clothes percy was wearing but blaimed it on percy. ofc his mother believed percy but it was still shameful for percy.

in second book of sea of monsters, a kid asked if percy let his mother buy his clothes - actually stopped letting his mother buy clothes for him after that.

he would naturally adopt people that were outcasts and be a friend - because people were rarely there for him when he needed it.

needs validation, but couldnt get it from school. his friends would praise him but he could barely accept those compliments because at the end of the day he was still a loser too.

his mother would be his studdy buddy, and tried to help percy with homework - but still found everything hard.

gabe got angry with percy would "dirtying everything" but Gabes the only reason why his mom has to clean daily.

Dark Percy would definitely develop from a young age, but it became a lot more present behind the scene of the books.

he desires comofort, safety and a space where he can be himself without having to walk on his toes around the place.

Honestly, NSFW

He suppresses his moans because he was used to being quiet when he was around Gabe.

He has jacked off quietly, watched any videos quietly, no sound and even with headphones get sscared that someone might hear.

One time he stayed up late bc of whatever reasons and his stepfather Gabe yelled "GO TO BED", the next morning Gabe complained about how loud Percy was when Percy was away at school (this was early middle school, school wasnt that far away). And his mother Sally defended him and said she believes that Percy goes to bed when he should/when she tells him to, this made Percy feel bad so he went to bed on time every since, or at least tried too. If he ever stayed up, he learn how to breathe quietly too.

The feeling of shame for touching yourself, feeling pleasure, and arousal was strongly in him from a certain age - Gabe's influence for even trying to be HAPPY or LAUGHING with his mother made him feel shame for any good feeling sexual or not.

[itsmarsss]

with a V [Steven Grant/Marc Spector x GN!Reader] (Moon Knight)

Word count: 785

This is another one in the 'scenes i don't wanna throw away from wips that i'm abandoning' series lol. No warnings.

When they 'speak' to each other, italics are Steven, bold is Marc.

Did I just ask them on a date? Yeah and I got their number. Clearly a team effort. 

[. . .]

"Hey, actually- I’m sorry if this is weird, but- are you an actor?"

"What?" 

What kind of pick-up line is that? 

It's definitely not a pick-up line!

"I uh- it's just- every time you come in you have like a different accent? Like sometimes you’re British, sometimes you’re american. Sometimes you even speak some spanish?”

Do you speak spanish? 

I can ask where the library is.

Why would you speak to them in spanish?

You think I came here and ‘donde está la biblioteca’d them? Why the fuck would I do that?

“... So I thought maybe you’re doing those method acting things or something."

"Uh, no. I'm not. Not an actor."

"Oh, okay. Sorry for being nosey, but it was eating me alive!” You joke.

"I work at a museum!" Steven blurts out. 

"Oh. You do?"

He nods.

"That's so cool! What do you do there?"

He averts his eyes to the floor in some sort of embarrassment. "I uh. I work at the gift shop right now. But I give tours sometimes! That's- that's what I actually want to do. Uh, teach people about… things."

"So you must really know your history then.”

"Enough to give tours about it. Not that I’m trying to be… you know. Presumptuous. Or anything.”

Is it even possible to be ‘presumptuous’ about that?

Shut up.

Who even uses the word ‘presumptuous’ anyway?

Shut up!

"Sounds like you have fun with it."

"Yes- Yes. I really like reading about these things- especially ancient Egypt. That's- that's actually what I give tours on."

Stop rambling.

I don't ramble! 

"Really? I've always been more of a greek-roman kind of person, so I don't really know that much about Egypt."

I cannot believe they liked the rambling.

You think so?

"You- oh. Do you want to- would you like to come by the museum some time?"

Yes, Steven! We gotta work a bit on the delivery but that's what I'm talking about! Make sure to put in a good word for me!

Don’t be stupid.

“What?”

“What?”

“You, uh-”

Oh, fuck, did he just say that out loud?

Idiot.

Fuck, he did. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was- I was talking to myself. Sorry.”

"Oh. Okay. Well, sure, uh… shit, I’m sorry, I never asked for your name."

"It’s Steven. With a ‘V’."

"Okay, Steven-with-a-V. I would like to come by the museum sometime."

Steven looked absolutely shocked, like the fact that you could say yes hadn't even crossed his mind. "You would?" 

After what you just pulled, I’m surprised too.

Or perhaps you’re just mean.

"Yeah, why not? Then you can teach me more about those things."

"Yeah. Of course. That would be… good. Great! It would be great. I'm- I'm giving a few tours tomorrow. Covering some shifts. If you- if you want to come by."

"I have the morning shift tomorrow. But maybe in the afternoon? What time are you out?"

"I'll be there until six, actually."

"On a saturday?"

"I switched with a colleague. Got both their shifts for tomorrow."

You smile, finally ringing up his order when someone else entered the place, cutting the interaction short. "6.99."

"What?"

"Your order."

"Oh. Right. Here."

He gives you a ten pound note, and you try to give him his change. 

He just smiles at you. "Keep it. As a tip. It's… for being nice to me. And showing up tomorrow?" He hoped he didn't sound cocky. Or like he wanted to buy you with a sorry three fucking pounds or something of the sort or-

"I'd need to know exactly where I need to be for that to happen."

"What?"

"There’s not exactly one single museum in this city, Steven-with-a-v."

"Shit. Right. It's-" 

No, dumbass! Don't just tell them!

What else do you want me to do? 

Holy shit.

"Steven?"

"Sorry, can I borrow that?" He says, pointing to your notepad… with that american accent, again. You then realize he never did explain anything about that, only saying he wasn't an actor, like you thought he was- which made this whole accent situation a lot more intriguing. You'd ask him about it again, but he'd just invited you to the museum and you weren't about to be nosey and ruin things.

Steven-with-a-v-and-an-american-accent grabbed the notepad and pen from the counter and quickly wrote his number on it.

"Just text me and I'll send you the address."

Eh-dress. What was this man’s deal? "Okay. Yeah. I will."

Did I just ask them out?

Yeah and I got their number. Clearly a team effort. 

Can’t you let me have this one?

If you put in a good word for me. 

Ah, yes, of course I will, that definitely won’t scare them off.

[. . .]

A/N: probably ooc but i dont really care lol this has been in my wips for like two years probably and it was never gonna see the light of day

[tragically-jane-doe]

My final rambling of this god forsaken show

This tusundere lil bastard

WHAT IF THO WHAT IF YOU JUST ADMITTED FROM THE START

They're fucking sadists making me watch hee-joo drive off a cliff again

MY GORL IS PSYCHO AND I LOVE THAT FOR HER

Also how dumb can og sa-eon be to get inside a car with hee-joo AGAIN

God damn sa-eon mama I see where your son gets it from

YES IN-A YES

Yu-ri you didn't get nearly enough screen time I love you

You know what I take back what I said you fucking snitch god damn sang-woo

THATS MS HANS BABY GIRL TYVM

I love our reporter friend

Okay I'm feeling a lil bit for hee-joo mama cause like imagine losing two children to the same fucking person

She meant well but went about it in a terrible way I guess

GIRL STOP GOING NEAR SLIGHTLY HIGH PLACES

OMG GRANDPAPPY GOT AROUND DAMN

UHOHUHOHUHOHUHUHOH

sir you could've just ran him over you wouldn't have gotten into trouble

Like really you could have

WHAT DID HE SAY TO MAKE OUR BOY CRY

Hey guys do you think he's the son of Paik Jang-ho they've only mentioned it like a million times

I'm so glad I waited till Saturday to watch these god damn

WHAT IF THOU

Awwww they match each others freak

I KNOW THIS ISNT REAL STOP STOP GIVING ME FAKE SCENARIOS DAMN IT

Let them be domestic with each other for real please they deserve it

What the hell sa-eon WHERE R U

Get your ass back to your wifey NOW

OKAY THIS EPISODE BETTER FIX EVERYTHING PLEASE I BEG

WHERE IS HE GODDAMN

Is he hanging out with Daddy Juan?

Wait what holy shit

SAEON WHAT FHE HELL DUDE WHERE R U

Where's our girls proposal huh where's her happily ever after

Mr Kang i love you

Her dad is so cute

THIS MOTHER FUCKER TOOK HIM TO GET FOOD WHERE IS HE

Stop this is to cute

HAS IT BEEN 6 MONTHS? OF HIM BEING M.I.A

All of in-a outfits have been killer

THIS MANS BEEN M.I.A FOR SIX FUCKING MONTHS IM GONNA KILL HIM

IN-A I LOVE YOU BUT GIRL STOP IT

This is so fucking sad I want to murder this man

OMG 604

She's the biggest of freaks she's amazing

I love how she ran to a war zone just on CHANCE to see her man SHES INSANE I LOVE HER JESUS FUCK

OF COURSE SHE GETS KIDNAPPED THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A NICE HAPPY TIME DAMNIT BUT INSTEAD WE GET THIS

Sa-eon did you really expect her to sit and twiddle her thumbs

He's dumb asf

SO DUMB

What was the point of all of this sa-eon

SHE ISNT DUMB YOU ARE MOTHERFUCKER

Sa-eon lives to infuriate me

Oooooooh so that's why he went cray cray m.i.a

HEE-JOO ALREADY KNEW THAT THOU

HE STILL LEFT KNOWING SHE KNOWS

I wanna slap him

I WANNA HIT HIM MR I WANNA PUNISH MYSELF

So dumb

So fucking dumb

He doesn't deserve that kiss

I want them to be caught by rebels so bad it would be so funny

THEY FUCKED? the white tanks are actually taking me out

not the feet shot

HOW DUMB IS THIS MAN "I didn't expect you to show up here"

My girl tried to drive off a cliff just so the stalker dude would leave you alone

Girly pretended to be her kidnapper to just divorce you

SHE SPENT 4 DAYS REFUSING TO EAT OR DRINK JUST SO YOUR FAKE MAMA COULDNT USE HER AGAINST YOU MY GIRL WAS READY TO STARVE TO DEATH

She's insane I'm not surprised she went into a war zone to find sa-eon that's actually one of the tamer things shes done

Also like if u didn't want her to find you why did u donate money in her name to a school where u are

I'm gonna murder this man

He needs to be shot again

Not Paik sa-eon is the funniest sub I've ever seen

My boy still has no name of his own

Spent 6 months not finding a name

I ONLY GET 16 MINUTES OF FLUFF?

Their house is so cute

All the besties are hereeeeeee

Oh mr Kang why don't we get to meet your wife

I want to see the woman that wifed you up

I hate this

Yay work mom I love you

Paik yu Yeon your a dumb bitch but at least your pretty

Shut up his name is for her Jesus christ

Mr Kang stop making googoo eyes at him his wife is right next to himmmm

He's so cunty swirling his wine thou

Stop it they're so cute it's gross

Oh my goodness

Oh so fish is just a trauma trigger

Hee-joo getting her closure!!!!!

THIS MOTHERFUCKER

also sick that his contact name is just husband💓

Aw he made up with his bae do-jae

Please god let there be fics of hee-joo domming this man

PLEASE HES PRACTICALLY BEGGING HER

Well fuck me idk what to do now it's over

Was a fun ride

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

hot question, fresh off the Think Pan: which of the FE Heroes ladies would be into cuddle fucking 😌

I got this ask when I first got to work and I've had all day to think about it :3 Edit: I didn't mean to post this without adding poor Gullveig's name but that's literally so funny of me. Fixed spelling and bolded names too

My first, and obvious thought was Camilla. Woman literally has the softest and warmest body in all of Nohr, she was made for this. Paired with an uncontrollable urge to coddle and the grip strength to swing huge axes around like nothing, let me be clear; if Camilla wants to cuddle fuck, it's going to happen. She just may not be the one getting fucked <3

Next up, Sonya: now I might just be thinking of these two bc I just bought a 3ds to play the classics, or maybe just because I think big tiddy women with purple hair are into this-- who really knows. The point is, Sonya likes to spoil and be spoiled. It won't be hard to get her into your arms, and from there I imagine all it takes is some bad jokes before she'll be trying to get you to shut up.

For an actual feh OC: Laegjarn. I seem to have a type, but pay that no mind. Ahem. I think more than anything, she likes the closeness of it, the intimacy. One of those "I'm not close enough to you until I can crawl inside your chest" types, I'm afraid. That said, this will suffice. For now.

Gullvieg, (sweetie im so sorry for forgetting your name </3): I think she would be down for anything, if it was you summoner, but someone about you taking care of her this time around... ahh poor lady is done for. Might get carried away, but this may not be a bad thing.

Final choice: Ash. Something about not having to look each other in the eyes, the closeness of it without the expectation of something bigger or better. And the warmth-- oh goodness, the warmth. She might still be rambling but personally I think it's cute. Tell me how good the strap is, queen.

Bisexual bonus round under the cut bc the bus still isn't at my stop.

Since I've already added the cow ladies, I may as well have Askr here too! I also think he's one of those down 2 clown types, since he's just so gosh darn curious about us mortals, but soon finds he actually really likes it. Let's him take his time (which he has so much of!), take notice of what his partner likes and dislikes... yeahh he might be my personal choice for this.

Obvious Alfonse is obvious: what wouldn't he do for you? I think he might first be embarrassed how he got turned on doing something that was supposed to be innocent, but upon finding you're into it is more than happy to indulge you :)

Ummm yoinking a random furry... lets say. Ranulf. He's so soft and cuddly... ah it would be so nice. I can absolutely see him nonchalantly asking to cuddle and then when he's putting the tip in he's like "idk how we got here!" But every move was calculated from the start :/ he's lucky he's cute

Okay well now I just have to make it even so: Forsyth, my beloved. Number one service top. Man who doesn't want to let you go in the morning, so you have to offer him something to get his blood pumping. :3 That said, he's also one who can get carried away... as good and sweet as cuddle fucking is, Forsyth often finds himself with a little too much energy to sit that still for long. I suppose it's the thought that counts.

Okay last, but certainly not least: Lyon. I can see it now... basking in one another's warmth, sweet touches and gentle kisses... oh I'm afraid he's far too soft. It may as well just be cockwarming with him, but I'm sure a particularly heated kiss could convince him otherwise....

[wrathofrats]

Hiii you're the first person I've ever sent an ask so sorry if it's weird, but I have a request (if it's okay of course)

Could you do some swissdew? I don't see much writing of it and it makes me a bit sad

It's okay if not! Just wanted to know :)

-🌟

Omg??? No you’re not weird at all I love getting requests, in fact I’m naming you ur star anon now I hope you’re excited

Honestly it’s a bit funny that you say you don’t see any Swissdew because they used to be extremely popular! (Honestly tbh I haven’t seen them a lot recently?? Idk!!) They were my first fav ship when I joined the fandom lmao

Before I start rambling here’s some other Swissdew pieces I’ve done if you’re looking for more

(Swiss dew angst series)(breath play and being weird about paint)(dom drop after care)(forcefem)

This is weird and strange as I usually am, you didnt specify on nsfwness but most people come here for porn, if however that’s not what you wanted feel free to send me another ask!!

Uhhh basically short and sweet Swissdew and by sweet I mean finger sucking and stupidification

“Swiss, fucking move already please”

Dew felt like he had been laying there for hours with Swiss looming over top of him. The false sense of security brought on by his sweet words and gentle touch has long since faded into something dew could only really describe as torture.

“See? Now you’re learning to ask nicely, it’s getting hard to keep fighting huh?” Swiss coos

“No, it fucking hurts asshat”

“Must not hurt bad enough since you’re still being a brat”

Dews cock sat hard and sensitive against his stomach. Pre had dribbled along his torso, leaving a sticky mess that only added to his discomfort. His brain no longer felt fuzzy, as it did when Swiss finally got his cock in him after what seemed like endless prep that was mostly just Swiss playing with dew as he pleased. It felt sharp, electric and on edge, every slight jostle making him gasp in false anticipation.

“I’ve been good, I haven’t moved at all” dew pleads.

“You also haven’t shut up, probably should’ve just gagged you before we started”

Swiss moves his hands along dews body, a teasing nail tracing along his skin up to his neck. “Think you probably want to be gagged though, right? Too desperate for your own good?”

“No, I want you to fuck me already” dew whines and squirms from the uncomfortable position on the bed.

“Oh I don’t think you know what you want, don’t think you’re smart enough to make your own decisions like this since you keep talking” Swiss rubs his hand along the column of dews throat, thumbing at his chin to pry it open.

Dew attempts to mumble something incoherent around his mouth being forced open, eyes staring up at Swiss in confusion. He doesn’t make an effort to close it, waiting for his next move as saliva pools in his mouth.

“That right baby? Just get too stupid to make good choices when you’ve got a cock in you” Swiss’s tone alone has dews cheeks heating up, cock twitching on his abdomen. Two fingers slide past his lips smearing the saliva over them and down his chin.

“See, you’re already calming down, just had to get a couple fingers in your mouth didn’t I? Drool that pesky little brain out”

Dew whimpers in response as Swiss pets over his tongue, sliding the two digits in and out past his lips. He feel docile, the fuzzy feeling in his brain creeping back in around the edges

“There’s my good boy” Swiss smiles

[faerunsbest]

Okay but inexperienced Rolan with reader who has to talk him through touching her for the first time. He’s so nervous and keeps asking if different things are okay and won’t stop rambling while she is silently losing her mind over how good he is, then finally she shuts him up with a passionate kiss. (I feel like Rolan would be talkative)

"Go on, keep doing that... with your tongue. And yea. ..oh"

Rolan Looks up at the woman from his place between her legs, hands on her thighs. His tongue works at her clit, occasionally laying flat to swipe up before revealing something he's kept hidden. His forked swiping and flicking, dick twitching and dripping at the noise. Her hand in his hair gripping but not pulling.

As he works he keeps his eyes locked on hers, watching her eyes glaz over before she cums against the roof of his mouth.

Rolan swallowed and leans back on his heels unsure if that's all he gets, he doesn't mean to whimper as she shudders on the edge of the bed. She smiles down at him, perching herself up on her elbows and spreading her legs.

For a moment he's quiet before asking

"Miss? I... can i?"

Another smile for him.

"Are you going to be alright? You look fit to burst sweetie."

"Well I think so but I've never Done this before so I don't really know I suppose."

A soft chuckle as she motions him forward, hand immediately wrapping around his cock as he stands. She raises an eyebrow at him when she swipes her thumb over his leaking tip.

"...I think I might have a clue but it's alright."

"Please?"

His fingertips are set on her knees, he's already rollings his hips, fucking her curled fist. The face he's making, he was smug earlier it's difficult not to enjoy the image of him now.

"Slow down, come here. It's best to get all the way up here I think."

Rolan follows her to the center of the bed

"Can I touch you now? Please...please"

She laid back for him, reach up to his face to pull him close. Guiding his face to her breasts.

"Go on then, I'd like you to play with me okay "

He's already kissing, licking and sucking her nipples while her fondles her. He doesn't see her biting her lip at the feeling of his ridged cock sliding over her wet cunt.

"Ah, your, soft...still wet."

He buries his face against her neck inhaling deeply, mumbling about her good she smells. The ridges of leaking dick now purposely sliding back and forth against.

She can feel another orgasm on the way, but the hell was he talking about?

"Rolan darling, you want to put in now?"

"Yes, yes please."

Now he shifted his position, grabbing her knees and lifting them as parted her open for him.

"I'm not hurting you? Is this uncomfortable?"

He asked one question after another as he pressed the tip of himself in, pausing his onslaught of inquiry only to moan as he felt himself slide into warm, inviting softness.

"Ah, ah"

"Good boy, hold on now. Don't finish just yet..."

"Okay..."

His brow knit, sweat beginning to bead on his temple as he struggled to contain himself.

" I've never felt so-"

"I know sweetie"

" miss, you feel so good I don't understand-"

He was rambling again, once he seemed slightly calmer. Asking questions and saying things she wasn't quite listto. She was distracted by the feeling if his heated length buried deep and throbbing.

Rolan bit his lip when she wiggled her ass against him, signaling him to go on and get started. His start was slow and careful almost searching for something, he listened as her breath hitched.

"There? "

He began to speed up, asking over and over if he was doing it right. The woman grabbed his face again, pulling him down

"SHUT UO AND FUCK ME YOU BEAUTIFUL IDIOT!"

Rolan found his mouth flush against hers,tasking her tongue. Taking her word he parted only enough to push her knees down against the mattress and put up against her. He knew so far one spot and aimed for it, she was huffing, panting and moaning so loud he couldn't believe.

Though he was sure he wouldn't hold out much longer, rolan was beginning with to lose his rhythm, pumping and thrusting wildly into her.

When she threw her head back , almost screaming, in ecstasy, he pulled out and sprayed his hot finish across her stomach and breasts. He came so hard his vision went white, now not more than jelly he collapsed on top of her, still dribbling cum as he lay there.

Rolan grinned to himself when reached up to pet his hair.

"Mmm good boy"

[writereleaserepeat]

This last month I've been enamored by @sowhumpshaped's interactive whump story, "Stray." It came to a beautiful end just a few days ago, and I was inspired to come out of the woodwork long enough to write a little fanfic. Make sure to go read their story before continuing here! It's a lovely work of art and I had so much fun seeing where it went. I miss the daily updates already!

This story is set twenty years after the main storyline of "Stray," and ten years after total pet liberation. It takes place in I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Disneyworld, and it features our MC (you!) meeting a ghost from their past.

CW: mentions of pet whump, second person POV, swearing

WC: ~2250

You run your tongue along the mountain of sweet vanilla cream, savoring its delicate flavor as it slowly melts in your mouth. With how much this ice cream cost, you were determined to enjoy every moment of its blissful respite from the summer heat. The mouse might know how to mark up its sweets, but it wouldn't steal away your enjoyment of this day, not even with an ice cream cone that cost an arm and a leg.

You're pulled from your thoughts by the sight of the ride coming to a halt beyond the fence. The harnesses begin to release and the children start pouring towards the exit, all smiles and laughters as they rush to find their parents on the other side. Your daughter is easy to spot, a tall girl - god, when did she get so tall? - with a glowing, gap-toothed smile.

Much to your surprise, she comes to greet you with another girl in tow, a child whose face reminds you of someone you can't place, their eyes sparkling with a hint of familiarity. A celebrity, maybe?

You don't have any more time to ponder before your daughter begins talking. She holds the other girl’s hand, a child who couldn’t have been a year older than her, and all but pulls her up to greet you.

"This is Delaney, we were on the ride together! She's so nice," Libby speaks in that same pleading tone you're never able to resist. "Please, please, please can we go to the next ride together?"

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” you say as sympathetically as you can, putting a palm on Libby's head. “We need to ask Delaney’s grown-up first.”

“My dad will say it’s okay,” Delaney says with a vigorous nod, “he’s right over there!”

She points towards a man striding in your direction, his hair long, but his gait familiar. As he brushes the hair from in front of his eyes, you freeze. You know those eyes. You’ll never forget those eyes, even if they’re set deeper in wrinkles now.

The world stops. For one painful moment, you don’t even feel your heart beat. It’s like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs.

But it wasn’t. You draw a breath, a deep breath that pushes hard against your ribs. You’re free. All the pets are free now, and they have been free for ten years. It had been another ten years before that since you’d last seen Rayan.

He recognizes you too, you can tell in the way his jaw slackens, dumbfounded. That glitter of recognition continues as he finally stumbles into earshot and his tongue begins to work.

“Thirt-"

“Not in front of my daughter,” you hiss, leaning in towards his ear as you do so. “Not in front of my fucking daughter.” You keep a smile on your face, only just, so your child doesn’t have to see you fall apart before her eyes.

He seems startled, startled enough to shut up for one moment. But silence had never been his strong suit, you could remember that much, the way he'd ramble on and on after his volunteer shifts. You'd always let him talk - not today. The dynamic had shifted. Today, you look him in the eyes as an equal.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Papa!” Delaney interjects, cutting Rayan off a second time. “I met this girl on the ride, her name’s Libby, she’s super fun, and super nice, and we want to go on another ride together.” She tugs on Rayan’s arm, but he doesn’t look down.

“Actually,” you say, pulling your daughter close to you, “I think we need to go catch up with Libby’s little brother and my partner.”

“Please?” Libby pleads again, staring at you with those doe eyes that always melt your heart. “Just one ride. It can be this one, we can do it again, we don’t even have to walk anywhere.”

Fuck.

What was almost twenty years of therapy worth if you couldn’t stand next to Rayan for another five minutes? You’d imagined talking to him a thousand times over, you’d thought painstakingly about what you’d say to him if you ever could, you'd prayed to his memory as much as you'd cursed it. But now, all you want is to walk away and never look at him again.

No more running. You'd promised yourself that almost two decades ago, and hell if you couldn't carry through with that promise today, especially with a family that needed you.

“Okay,” you concede, forcing a smile at Libby. She would never see you falter, not now, not ever. “You can ride this same ride one more time, just once, and only if you use your QuickCard to skip the line. We don’t want to get too far behind the rest of the family.”

“Sure,” Rayan says, voice measured. He smiles down at Delaney as well, but you can tell it's forced. “You can go too. Don’t forget, you only have three more taps on your QuickCard.”

“That’s okay!” Delaney chirps, already pulling Libby towards the line. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

And as the girls run in a tangle of limbs and laughter back into the ride's entrance, you’re left alone next to Rayan. The silence weighs heavily on your shoulders, and you feel the ice cream beginning to melt between your fingers. Then it's just you and Rayan, alone.

Not literally alone. You two are the furthest from alone you ever could be, stood next to a swinging steel pirate ship, amidst a park milling with tens of thousands of other people. But you can hardly hear the screams, the voices, the mechanical groans of the rides. Rayan’s presence next to you is suffocating.

You say nothing yet. What is there to say? You’ve said it all a million times before. To the shower walls, to your therapist, to the darkened skies in the early dawn. But none of it had ever compared to what you feel right now.

Something like hope begins to itch in your chest. Maybe this would give you closure, real closure, not the metaphorical closing of a book at the end of a therapy session. You've craved closure for so long. Could Rayan finally be this holy grail?

“I’m sorry,” Rayan says. If you didn’t know better, his voice sounded on the verge of breaking. “I’m sorry for everything.”

His swallow is louder than even the most cacophonous thunderstorm. He continues, tripping over his words, falling over himself with every syllable.

“Look, I was just doing my best. I mean, you were a kid, and I was basically still a kid too, and I was doing what I thought was best, just trying to help, you know? It’s been twenty years and I’ve never forgotten your face. And I mean, look at you now, here with your kids, this is what all the freed pets wanted, isn’t it? The chance to live like this?”

In that moment you know what you need from Rayan. It's what you've needed from him all along, even if you couldn't name it before now.

“Say it,” you mumble, struggling to find your voice. That hope for closure, god, you can feel it, you need it, and-

“What?”

“Say it,” you growl, more firmly this time. “You know what I need you to say.”

“Look, thir- whatever name you chose, I don’t know what you want from me.”

You finally look him in the eyes again.

“Say that I’m a person. Tell me that I’m a person.”

“Of course you are,” Rayan begins, and you watch him hold up his hands as he fights against his tongue's knots. “That’s what the Decree says. All pets had their legal status changed to reflect their unequivocal personhood.”

“That’s not what I asked. I know my pet lib history - likely better than you do. I want you to tell me that I, me, the living being standing in front of you, is a person.”

That nervous look in Rayan’s eyes tells you everything you need to know. The pregnant pause that follows is just painful confirmation. There would be no closure here for you today.

“Pathetic.” It takes all of your strength not to slap him in the face. “Twenty years and you haven’t learned a damn thing. The rest of the world has moved on from that nonsense and you can’t take five seconds to pull your head out of your ass.”

“Look," another swallow as Rayan wrings his hands. “Yeah, it’s been ten years, and still, there’s these studies, right? I'm sure they taught you to read in the, uh, the rehabilitation classes. There's studies that shows the pets that were liberated, they just aren't adapting to society as people do, you know? They don't excel at their jobs, they don't succeed in forming traditional family units, they engage in crime and anti-social behavior at much higher rates..."

You scoff and roll your eyes. All you can feel is the bile thick in your throat. Those studies, those lies, that propaganda, it would never stop. And people like Rayan would never stop feeding on it. You knew this, hell, you taught about it, at your community college's pet lib program. There would always be someone with an interest in the tyranny over 'pets,' be it emotional or financial, and it would succeed as long as people like Rayan were stupid enough to buy it.

"Look," Rayan says, putting his hands on the nearby railing as he looks away from you, "all I'm saying is, if you're a good- as good a soul as I think you are, you'd want what's best for your daughter, right? And, and maybe, well, maybe what's best for your family is how things used to be. You don't know for sure that things are better now. What if you're denying your family the chance to be taken care of, to truly thrive? What if they're not meant to be taken care of by, ah, by something like you?"

For a moment you think about striking him. You think about taking him to the ground, right there in the middle of the theme park, and pummeling him senseless. You want to beat that nonsense right out of his skull.

But that would prove his point, wouldn't it?

No. You know you can't do that. You can't wait for your daughter to come back and see your knuckles bloodied, this stranger choking on his own teeeth, your face contorted into an unfamiliar visage of rage. You weren't going to be a monster.

"You disgust me." The words are stickier than honey on your tongue. "Your vapid platitudes mean nothing. Your saviour complex has kept you stuck in the past while the rest of society is growing and learning from our sins. I'll always be grateful that you dragged me out of the trash that one day, and I'll always be grateful that you kept a roof over my head long enough for me to find my liberation. But I owe you nothing, not now, not ever again. I have my personhood - I always have. It's a shame you aren't using yours for something more meaningful."

You see a flash of pink out of the corner of your eye. Libby was coming back, running hand-in-hand with Delaney, that same joyful smile on her face. The smile of a child who had never seen the tyranny of the system you'd oncee been subdued by. The smile of a child who would learn just how important their personhood was, and always would be.

"Libby, darling, we need to go," you say as she comes within earshot. Your tongue is dry and sticky in your throat, and you need a drink of water. Your partner has water, wherever they are in the park now. You want to go to them now, seek the affirmation of everything you'd built in the time since you'd left Rayan behind all those years ago. You want to feel their comforting touch, something to ground you, to remind you of who you are. Who you've always been.

A good person.

Libby seems to wilt a bit, dejectedly dropping Delaney's hand from her own.

"Aw, but-"

"No buts. It's time to see what your brother is up to, and we have a lot of rides to catch before the day is over."

She pauses for a moment, and you can see her thinking it over. After another second she nods, seemingly convinced.

"Okay, as long as you promise to come on the next roller coaster with me."

"I promise," you say, reaching out a pinkie towards her. She hooks her pinkie in yours, and you take the opportunity to pull her close to you, away from Rayan, and away from the child he will undoubtedly raise to think just like him.

"Bye, Delaney! We're friends forever, okay?" Libby shouts over her shoulder as you begin to walk away.

"Bye Libby! Forever!" Delaney replies, giggling as she waves.

Your eyes meet Rayan's one last time. They're clouded with emotion, his lips pressed in a thin line. In spite of yourself, you smile at him once, and turn away.

"Alright, sweetheart," you speak to your daughter as the door to your past slams shut behind you. "Let's go have some more fun. We've got the whole day ahead of us."

[awakened-omen-art]

Okay so... I've gotten into a little thing called "Clan Gen" which is a warrior cats generator game and a modded version of it called "Life Gen" which is basically the same but lets you follow a specific cat as a main character of sorts.

Long ass ramble under the cut:

I have quite a few Clan Gens and a few Life Gens but none of them have stuck with me quite as hard as Wolfpaw of Spiderclan has.

He's my second Life Gen, the first one I was doing a project on in obsidian and decided to make a side one for fun.

This save file is so beautifully cursed and I'm only on Moon 13

Wolfkit's story starts out on Moon 1 as a newborn orphaned kit on the side of a road. His parents were tragically killed by a monster and then he was found and taken into Spiderclan by the deputy Blotchminnow and her mate Rookpelt alongside their adopted daughter Condorkit

Condorkit doesn't really like to share the spotlight with Wolfkit and is often mean to him and it sucks but his new parents are wonderful to him. Literally, Rookpelt and Blotchminnow take care of him so well. Whenever Blotchminnow is too busy, Rookpelt steps in, but she always tries to make time for her kits. A very sweet working mom.

As he grows up he finds a fascination with the three medicine cats Icicledart, Robinpelt, and Spotfade. Especially when one of the patrols brings home a poisoned rabbit and many cats get VERY sick, including both Icicledart and Spotfade AND Rookpelt.

Wolfkit is constantly underfoot trying to help Robinpelt and he promises his dad that when he's old enough he'll train to be a medicine cat and make him all better.

Rookpelt gets worse. He starts coughing up blood and is asleep more than he's awake. Wolfkit is anxiously awaiting his apprentice ceremony and when the day finally comes he races to the medicine den to tell his dad only to find him completely unresponsive. The others seem to be getting better but his dad won't wake up.

Wolfpaw was too late. He was too late and he blames himself.

Completely overcome with grief Wolfpaw shuts down for several moons, unable to leave his nest to train or learn. At one point he starts getting near constant nightmares and can't sleep.

On moon 10, at 9 moons old, Wolfpaw looks to silverpelt and finally comes to terms with the fact that Rookpelt is gone. The morning after on patrol he senses a presence nearby and is overwhelmed by the scent of his dad. If he concentrates hard enough he can almost see a starry outline.

Things are finally okay.

Until the next moon when he climbs onto a branch of a tree to help Robinpelt collect some leaves, he slips on a patch of ice and plummets, breaking his jaw in the process and leaving him nestbound... AGAIN

Even though he can't go out on patrol to train, Wolfpaw tries his hardest. He's exhausted and in pain but he doesn't want to lose any more time.

He works himself to the bone, so much in fact that Icicledart comments on his tiredness and offers him sleeping herbs, and one of the kits begs him to take a break and play with them.

Even though he has so many cats looking out for him, Wolfpaw still struggles.

On moon 13 he's 12 moons old now, an adult, the age most cats earn their full name. His sister has been a full warrior for several moons since she even got her name earlier than expected at only 10 moons old.

A part of him wonders why his life has panned out this way, worried about what will happen if his jaw doesn't heal properly. He wants to prove himself, he doesn't want to let anyone else down.

Another part wonders if the darkness in his life has something to do with the dark forest. If someone is messing with him, making him miserable for some unknown reason.

All he hopes for in the future is for him to get his full name one day, he doesn't want to remain a 'paw forever.

...

So yeah that's his story so far. He's my tragic little guy and i love him so much.

There is a ton more I left out like the whole war thing that was going on between Spiderclan and Oddclan but that's a tale for another time <3

[canthavetoomuchchaos]

Quiet houses.

Platonic Asher +David.

This will be set during the Quinn problem, as I can't think of something else to make David tense enough for this.

Tw: yelling, flinching, avoidance,

David is tense at work, Asher tries to help. It doesn't go over well. Tank being Tank has kept their crazy ex boyfriend being loose a secret, so now he doesn't know who is safe and who isn't. (Tank is not in this fic.)

David ran his hand through his hair for the millionth time in the past half hour, his other hand filling out some contracts for the next few upcoming jobs. He blinks and slams the pen down harshly with a loud growl, Angel hasn't answered their phone for 15 minutes and they usually answer right away.

"David?" Asher pokes his head into the doorway of his office, a concerned grin on his face.

"you okay buddy? Sounded a lot like you just threw something just now" he takes a brief look around the room, finding nothing, he makes his way into the office. As he takes the few steps to get behind David he can see the tenseness of his shoulders. He doesn't realize it's not stress tensing him up, but anxiety, which would have changed his course of action drastically. He approaches slowly, gently reaching his hands to his best friend's shoulders and squeezing.

Asher barely gets a few rolls of his thumbs in David's shoulders before he is pulling his hands away, David's hands had slowly gotten more and more tense, gripping his desk as he tries not to snap at Asher. Ash takes his hands away and leans forward to check on his friend, a concerned look to his eyes.

"hey buddy, you alright? You're real tense today.." He uses a quieter tone, maybe David has a headache?

"you need me to do anything? I can get you some meds, or maybe some cold water? Oh! Milo showed me a cool pressure point by your ear for headaches! Do you think that will-" Asher is cut off by David's fist slamming against the desk, a fiery glare in his eyes as he stares straight forward, his mouth spouting words he never, ever, wanted to say to his best friend ever again.

"Asher! Just shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life! I've got too much shit going on for you to be rambling in my ears, especially not right now with fucking Quilt or whatever the hell his name is! so just leave me alone for one Goddamn minute before I fucking hurt you"

David's breath was labored as he finished speaking, Asher was frozen, his face blank and confused as he tried to will the heavy lump in his throat to go away. He nods, picking his lips nervously, and swallows. He takes a breath and walks back to the door.

"okay. I'm sorry." His voice is quiet, hardly a whisper of his naturally loud voice. And he leaves the room.

A week later and David has yet to figure out why Asher won't speak to him, he's confused. Asher will stand next to him like normal, though he seems more tense, more like he's trying to appear professional. He won't come into David's office anymore, instead texting or Emailing him for whatever he needs. It's unbearable. Finally David corners him after a job, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him into his office. Asher stands there, bewildered and very, very tense.

"....David? Why'd you pull me in here..?" David stares for a moment as he registers his best friend calling him by his name. He never uses his name, it's always one of those nickname she comes up with.

"why aren't you talking to me? I've been trying to figure it out all week, and nothing I can think of would make you avoid me like this. So, you and I are staying here until we figure it out." He says, a concerned look to his eyes as Asher shifts his weight, looking almost....is he uncomfortable?

"...David, it's fine, I'm just having an off week or something. Really we don't have to stay here-" he tries to move toward the door, though he is cut off by David's body.

"I know you Ash, if you were having an off week you wouldn't be avoiding me and only me. You would be pretending you were fine and giving me half hearted innuendos right now. What's going on?" He pauses

"did your partner break up with you?" A very offended "no!" In response.

"did you do something and you're going it from me?" Asher shakes his head. David pauses again.

"....did I do something?" His voice is lowered, now rethinking the past week as much as he can recall. Asher doesn't respond and David says nothing, getting all the confirmation he needed from the silence. It hits him like a truck when he remembers the words he said in his heated stress. His eyes widen and his heart drops.

"Ash, I didn't-" he's cut off by a suspiciously wet, sad voice from Asher.

"it's fine David, really. I get it. Can I go? Please...?" David huffs a breath, feeling helpless. He then, no hesitation, shifts on the spot. A large wolf appearing in front of Asher, head hanging low as he allows himself to let out quiet whines.

Asher wipes his tear filled eyes, a confused frown on his face.

"what're you-" he laughs briefly

"what're you doing David? Shift back" he only gets a short growl in response.

"why not?" He says, fighting the smile trying to grow as he kneels next to David. David has done this to cheer him up since they were kids and he couldn't shift yet. David would shift so Asher could play with the 'puppy' when he was sad.

David huffs and puts a paw over his muzzle, hitting himself multiple times. Asher huffs and sits in front of David.

"okay. I'm not upset anymore. It just hurt. Words hurt a lot sometimes..." David whines loudly, almost like a husky yell. Asher laughs.

"I'm fine big guy. I know you were stressed. I didn't realize I was avoiding you." David snuffs and headbutts Asher in the stomach, knocking him over.

"what- David! I'm fine now buddy, you don't have to keep doing this, I know you hate it." He gets a growl in response as David plops his head onto Asher's chest. Asher lifts his head to pet David.

"really? This is how we're resolving this? A cuddle?" David huffs, closing his eyes and letting out a grumbly sound. Asher snorts and relaxes onto the floor.

"alright. I guess this isn't so bad."

______

TOOK ALL DAY BUT ITS DONE!!! HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTT!!!

@miya-akiko

Ta daaaa~

[benjaminthewolf]

Living Up To Your Name (Vore Story)

Welp, this was one of the most difficult vore story projects I've ever tackled.

Mainly because of the battle scenes. Yeah, needless to say, battle scenes are hard to write.

But this is the Sky/landers franchise we're talking about. Fighting is kinda, ya know, their whole thing, so-

Word count: 7,623

WARNING: INJURY, SWEARING

     Astroblast gradually shifted his head around on his pillow as he let a muted, scratchy half-murmur half-gnarly-grumble vibrate itself around in his voice box for a few seconds. Reluctantly rolling his crystal body over on his bed so he was now lying upon his front, heaving out a mildly despondent sigh as he did, the light elemental Supercharger soon after attempted to let his mind drift away from hazy consciousness (just as he had done all throughout the same night, so be it), and enter eventually into a state of tranquil, steady slumber, so he could finally get some good rest for next morni- 

     *FWOOMP*

   “ASTROBLAST!”

      Automatically and instantly lurching upwards as an instinctively hysteric “AAAAH!” burst out of the crystalline man’s throat, Astroblast urgently shot open his eyes, and swung his head around his room so he could decisively figure out what was going on. As soon as he did this, he immediately realized two things.

     Firstly, and most importantly, the one, or actually, the ones who had screeched out his name, and caused this sheer panic as a result, was the three of Fiesta’s amigos. Despite all being tiny skeletons, they were currently breathing in and out very rapidly, whilst leaning against the frame of the door they had just broken open in tremendous exhaustion. 

     Secondly, Astroblast was able to figure out from the height and angle he was looking at them from that he had apparently activated subconsciously his anti-gravity floating ability from the shock, and was now hovering approximately two feet over his bed, still positioned with his front towards the ground, as a result. Also due to this, his white and gold-trimmed pajama shirt with “I Come In Peace” printed in its center was now visible to the trio. His pajama shorts were similarly visible, and possessed the same color palette. 

     In the time it had taken him to comprehend this second fact, however, one of the amigos, coincidentally, the one in the middle, aptly known as “Dos” had finally managed to catch his breath enough to speak up to Astroblast once more.

“WEDON’TKNOWHOWATALLBUTCOUNTMONEYBONECAPTUREDFIESTAANDHEALSOTOOKTHECRYPTCRUSHERANDFIESTASUMMONEDUSAFTERDISTRACTINGCOUNTMONEYBONESOWECOULDGETTHECRYPTCRUSHEROUTOFTHERESOWECOULDGETHELPANDNOWTHEY’REUPPASTSKYHIGHLANDSANDYOURSUNRUNNERISTHEONLYONETHATCANGOUPTHERECAUSEITSALIGHTELEMENTAREAANDTHESUNRUNNER’SALIGHTELEMENTVEHICLEANDWENEEDTOGOUPTHERERIGHTNOWORELSE-”

     “WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT! SLOW DOWN!” Astroblast finally brought the incoherent ramble to a halt. “ALL I HEARD WAS ‘FIESTA’ AND ‘COUNT MONEYBONE’! WHAT HAPPENED, EXACTLY?”

     Realizing he was talking way too fast for Astroblast to keep up in the following moments, Dos promptly shut himself up, slapping his two skeletal hands over his mouth with an “E-” noise, before Uno, the amigo to his left, ultimately decided to speak up instead.

     “Uh…it's kind of a long story, so maybe it would be best if we told you while you’re getting out of your pajamas and into your space suit, and…grabbing your laser gun and all that.” he relayed to the Supercharger far more comprehensively.

      Taking a few moments to reorient himself after this proposal, and all of the utterly unhinged, non-stop madness that had come before it, Astroblast sighed out a far more calm and collected breath of “Okay…”, before giving a firm nod back to the amigos. Proceeding to float downwards towards the floor, maneuvering himself into an upright position as he did, Astroblast eventually stuck a landing in front of his closet, whilst allowing all of the initial shock of the moment to gradually flow out from his being. As he was reaching for the door handle, however, something suddenly perked up in his brain. 

     “Uhhh…do you think you guys can…” he awkwardly attempted to ask the little skeletons. “...turn around?”

     “What-OH! YEAH YEAH YEAH, OF COURSE!” Uno responded in sudden comprehension of what, exactly, the crystal man meant, before instantly swiveling around. Dos and Tres would resultantly follow shortly after, in a shared sense of mutual, implicit understanding.

     “So yeah, since we’re all magically linked with Fiesta, he kinda just filled us in on all the details mentally when he summoned us.” Tres began to explain. “So here’s basically what happened…”

****

     “OI!”

     “OI!”

     “OI!”

     “WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU BONEHEAD!

"...Heh. Literally..." 

"BUT GET YOUR BONY PELVIC ASS UP OFF THE FLOOR! I SAID OI!”

     “...”

     “ARE YOU IGNORING ME ON PURPOSE OR ARE YOU REALLY JUST THIS INEPT?”

“WAKE UP!”

     “.......................”

     “Alright, that’s it.”

     “¡DESPERTARSE, TÚ ESTÚPIDO CULERO HIJO DE LA FREGADA! ¡VETE A LA CHINGADA Y CHINGA TU MADRE! ¿TÚ OÍR, IDIOTA? ¡TU MAMA!”

     “*GYAAAAAAAAAAH-* ¡MI MADRE NO TIENE ABSOLUTAMENTE NADA QUE VER CON LO QUE ESTÁ PASANDO AQUÍ!-”

     “¡Buenos días, motherfucker!”

     “MONEYBONE!”

     “THAT’S COUNT MONEYBONE, TO YOU, FIESTA!”

     And that was when Fiesta boiled over. 

     The undead Supercharger skeleton needed nothing in the way of rational thought. He needed nothing in the way of sight or sound. And he most certainly needed nothing in the way of consciously harnessing his strength in order to respond to Count Moneybone with his fist.

     A great cracking noise could be heard resonating around the two rival skeletons’ current vicinity. Seconds after, with the moment of fury gone by, Fiesta could critically think once again. Thus, he was given no other choice but to examine all the details pertaining to both himself and his most hated enemy the second his eyesight cleared up; as well as to their surroundings, a little later. With all of this new information at hand, then, Fiesta was rendered both silent and imobile rather quickly, as he subsequently connected all the dots.

     “...well, I guess I can’t blame you for trying…” Count Moneybone spoke up with his signature tone of royal, arrogant calmness. “...but I think you’ll find that trying to…oh, what was the phrase again? Oh yeah! ‘Slug me in the face’! Is kind of a lot harder when you’re THE SIZE OF AN AVERAGE SEWER RAT! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Ahhhh~” 

     Fiesta only remained reticent and unmoving, as reality at last began to settle. 

     The indisputable fact of the matter, in isolation from everything else, was that Count Moneybone had somehow managed to capture him. That meant that right now, his goal was to learn as much as he could about the situation, in order to evaluate all of his options, and formulate a plan for escape. Moments after this had settled in his mind, Count Moneybone resumed his villainous chuckling. 

     “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH YOU ACTUALLY THOUGHT YOU HAD A CHANCE, DIDN’T YOU?! OH, HOW RICH IS THAT, NOW? HOW RICH IS THAT? ….WELL CERTAINLY NOT AS RICH AS ME! HAHAHA! …OR AS SMART! HEH!”

     That was when Fiesta realized that he knew exactly how to get Count Moneybone to reveal his hand.

     “...aaaaaanyway!” the former ruler of the underworld abruptly shifted the subject. “WELCOME TO BEYOND SKYHIGHLANDS, FIESTA! THE BRIGHT, CLOUDY, BASICALLY UNREACHABLE REGION WHERE SKYLANDS GIVES WAY TO THE VACUUM OF SPACE!” he hollered out in theatrical glamor, gesturing out and towards the landscape before them.

     As Fiesta had naturally expected, based on his skeletal rival’s description, he observed that Count Moneybone was standing upon a giant, glistening platform of clouds. Aside from the ones on the ground, the light blue, shimmering sky around them was also lightly decorated with the occasional pure white wisp.

     At this point, since Fiesta was still yet to speak another word, he appeared to be dumbstruck and muted from realization to Count Moneybone, as he took a few flamboyant strides forth. In reality, however, the shrunken skeleton was merely prepping his plan for probing, while continuing to note his surroundings.

     “Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little gimmick…” Count Moneybone cockily sneered before calling out a cheeky: “TA-DA!” and revealing to Fiesta the Crypt Crusher, simply by turning himself around; the vehicle parked about five meters from where he stood.

     “Oh, yes! Brought your stupid little funeral procession car all the way up here, too! HAH! I’m sure you know what that means, dont’ch’ya!”

     Fiesta spontaneously let out a stifled gasp, as the magical light blue eyes within his bony sockets widened to at least twice their size.

     “EHEHEHEHEHE, YES! I suppose you could say that I’M in the driver’s seat, now!” Count Moneyone immediately quipped in a sense of satisfactory superiority. “...except THIS driver’s seat contains a rift engine!”

     As Count Moneybone wasn’t currently looking at him, Fiesta couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the thoroughly self-absorbed former underworld ruler, who had all but seemed to have forgotten that engines aren’t located in the driver’s seat. Nonetheless, this news was still very good, as the presence of the Crypt Crusher meant he had a surefire option of escape up here with him.

     “If I can just summon my Amigos while making sure Moneybone is distracted, they can use its rift engine to get back to the academy in no time! But since this is a light elemental zone and there’s only one person at the academy who has a light element vehicle, they’re going to have to find Astroblast as soon as possible!”

     Fiesta momentarily glanced up to examine Count Moneybone’s current expression. He appeared to be staring down at him in victorious bliss, most likely still assuming that his tiny rival wasn’t speaking due to contemplating defeat. 

     “Okay, I’ll start off by asking him how we got here, and move into how he got, specifically, into a light elemental zone in due time. But the most important thing is that I have to keep him talking for just about as long as I can!”

     “Aww…what’s wrong, wittle guy? Is wour defweet just two much fwor you two handwleeeeeee?” Count Moneybone joyously mocked the still silent, tiny Fiesta.

     “Alright, Moneybone…”  Fiesta suddenly spoke up rather calmly, much to Count Moneybone’s sheer and sudden, though attemptedly suppressed, shock. “If you think you’re so high and mighty, and smart, since you’ve apparently already ensured your total victory over me, why don’t you just go ahead and answer this one, simple question for me? Hmm?” he continued on in an outwardly apparent state of regulated fury. “HOW IN THE NAME OF THE ANCIENTS DID YOU EVEN GET US UP HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?” 

     A thoroughly uncomfortable pause proceeded to follow, one in which Count Moneybone’s skeletal brow steadily furrowed deeper towards his similarly narrowing eye sockets.

     “Oooooooooohhhhhhhh, I see!” he eventually spat out through grinding teeth. “So YOU think you can just wake up in the clutch of COUNT Moneybone, see that you’ve been bested by his technological, and magical capabilities, and then go on to insult him like a petulant little child, hmm? Well I’ll have you know that I’ve been able to magically teleport objects for YEARS! So what makes you think I can’t develop my skills to where conscious beings can be affected too, huh, Fiesta?”

      In the midst of Count Moneybone’s rant, Fiesta had wasted absolutely zero time summoning his amigos, telepathically informing them on the situation as they appeared, before the three miniature skeletons collectively understood that they needed to take the Crypt Crusher back to the Academy, scampering over to the nearby vehicle in heightened urgency, as a result.

     “‘What makes you think I can’t develop my skills to where conscious beings can be affected too, huh, Fiesta?’” Fiesta quoted back to Count Moneybone in rising spite. “Oh, I don’t know…maybe the fact that…you’re an undeniably incompetent piece of shit standing proudly at the peak of the Dunning-Kruger graph’s mount stupid! And the just as indisputable fact that you failed spectacularly at the one, singular, though might I add, EXTREMELY IMPORTANT, job that Kaos gave you back in Superchargers is WAY more than enough proof for me of that point!” 

      There would only be three exact seconds between those words hitting Count Moneybone’s metaphorical brain, and the result.

     “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT”??????????????????????????????????????????????????

     Count Moneybone violently, hysterically, viciously, barbarously, and dementedly screeched at the top of his metaphorical lungs in explosively unwavering, frothing fury as Fiesta only glared up into his eyes in purely staunch contempt. Casting a bit of a sidelong glance over at the Crypt Crusher as the Amigos revved it up and began to drive, Fiesta, as he knew it was best for him to maintain his current facial expression, internally smirked back at the arrogant Count screeching at him; and doing so in nothing but purified, genuine hate. 

****

     “Geez! Was he actually screaming that loud for that long?” Astroblast asked in slight disbelief as he continued to steer the Sun Runner upwards through Skylands’ stratosphere; the elongated, wispy white clouds swishing past the windshield in an instant up against the light blue background of the sky.

     “Ayyyyup!” Tres, huddled up with Uno and Dos upon the seat beside him, (resultantly sharing a seatbelt with them), promptly responded. “Good thing, too, or else we probably wouldn’t even be here in the first place!”

     “Well, I mean, having no windpipe does mean there aren’t really any consequences for doing something like that, so…” Uno added in soon after.

     “Yeah, that’s true, too.”

     “I wonder if they’ll still be screaming at each other when we get there!” Dos lightheartedly pondered with a chuckle.

     “Maybe! I dunno!” Tres giggled out in response.

     Astroblast internally heaved a pained sigh paired with a sharp eye roll. He understood that the amigos weren’t Skylanders in their own rights, and didn’t have nearly as much experience in these kinds of situations as he or Fiesta did…but even so, now was not the time for idle chatter, and Astroblast felt that they should know this. 

     “Well…” he eventually spoke up in an abruptly lowered and serious tone, which seemed to accomplish the intended effect of indirectly reminding them all that this was an urgent rescue mission, “There’s only one way to find out.” 

     Astroblast leaned forwards just slightly in the driver’s seat whilst significantly narrowing his eyes.

He knew based on his ship’s continual Rift Engine-aided velocity, and how far the area defined as being beyond Skyhighlands was from the academy, that the four of them were mere seconds away from arrival by now. It was extremely important, then, for him to properly time the Sun Runner’s deceleration, so that they wouldn’t find themselves breaching into space.

     Gently pressing down on the brake pedal, Astroblast could feel his ship slowing, at a smooth, yet still extremely G-Force intensive rate, causing the three Amigos to get viciously thrusted backwards into their seats.

     “OH-WHAAAAAAAH! OH THANK THE ANCIENTS THAT SEAT BELTS EXIST-WRUUUUUUUNGH!”

     Tres screeched out in palpable terror, as his bony body was given no choice but to lay there and soak in the impact.

     Astroblast opted to say nothing as his surroundings became progressively more discernible from the Sun Runner’s braking. Eventually, the ship slowed down to a stop, and the three Amigos were able to gradually pull themselves together.

     “*Bluuuuuurgh*...uh…we’re ok….we’re ok, right guys? Ok yeah, we’re good.” Dos stammered out while shaking himself into reorientation. 

     Astroblast was once again tempted to speak up, if only to ask how the Amigos weren’t used to these levels of G-Forces after years of riding with Fiesta in the Crypt Crusher, but once again, ultimately decided to refrain. 

     “...alright, then…” he mumbled out, whilst driving the Sun Runner forth at a pace slow enough to scan the cloudy terrain below him. “...well now we need to find those two, and-”

     “OH, WELL LOOK DOWN AT YOU, FIESTA, THINKING YOU’RE SOOOOOOOOO SMART! OF COURSE LIGHT TRAPTANIUM CAN BE USED TO ENTER LIGHT ELEMENT ZONES! IF IT HAD TO BE A LIVING THING, THEN HOW WOULD YOUR OWN O’ SO PRECIOUS CRYPT CRUSHER GET INTO AN UNDEAD AREA WITHOUT AN UNDEAD DRIVER? HMMMMMM?”

     “...well, that was easy.”

     Immediately steering the Sun Runner in the direction of Count Moneybone’s screech, it wouldn’t be very long before Astroblast and the amigos spotted a royally dressed skeleton pricked up in a royally pissed-off stance, glaring down towards his furiously clenched fist, continuing his verbal barrage without any form of a break in between each sentence. 

     Astroblast proceeded to press a few buttons on the Sun Runner’s control panel in silence, whilst the Amigos collectively decided to hold their own. A soft wiring sound could be heard building up inside the Sun Runner, as upon the vehicle’s windshield, an electrical screen appeared to boot up. Utilizing this screen to zoom in significantly onto the back of Count Moneybone’s skull, Astroblast brought a golden target icon onto the screen, and maneuvered it onto the skull’s back’s middle. The amigos could only metaphorically hold their breath in preparation for what they figured out was going to happen next.

     *FWOOSH*!

The slim and precise, yet powerful laser blast shot itself across the sky, and towards the still hollering form of Count Moneybone just beyond.

     “SO IF YOU TELL ME ONE MORE TIME THAT I DON’T POSSESS THE SKILLS NECESSARY TO STEAL YOUR CRYPT CRUSHER WITHOUT SETTING OFF ANY ALARMS, I AM GOING TO-”

     Fiesta had indeed taken note of the Sun Runner in front of him by now, yet still knew he had to remain in character to ensure Count Moneybone stayed distracted. As a result, he was just barely able, from the very corners of his eye sockets, to watch the bright, red laser that was shot from the ship zooming closer to his far larger nemesis, who remained utterly oblivious to its presence.

     “AND DON’T YOU GO ON THINKING THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU HELPED DEFEAT ME ONCE, THAT AUTOMATICALLY MEANS I’M GOING TO GET BEATEN AGAIN!”

Count Moneybone spat onto the captive Fiesta.

“SO MAYBE-EEEEEEEEEEEE!”

     The following moments seemed to come by the pure, yet acquired force of instinct alone, as Count Moneybone’s pupils dilated.

     *SNAP*

   “AAAAA-HAH!”

     Instantly realizing the jig was up, Astroblast knew that he needed to get as close as he could to Count Moneybone, so he could better analyze his next moves.

     Count Moneybone, now donning his suit of robotic armor, gave a muted, sneering “Hmph.” as the Sun Runner pulled in closer to, though still far above, his position. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Astroblast Danger Guts himself! Oh, I’m so scared!”

     To this, Astroblast could only narrow his eyes before Dos stood up on the shotgun seat to clap back.

     “Hey! He’s got a sick-ass laser gun, and you don’t!”

     “*Pffft*! Like that stupid little ‘Special Class EZ 9,000 Laser Gun’ could do any more damage than a Chompy bite-”

     Not willing to waste any more time, Astroblast let loose a laser barrage on the skeleton, being sure to avoid his robotic suit’s left hand where Fiesta was still being clutched. 

     “-AAAAGH-A- GRRRRRRR-!” naturally rather ticked off from getting attacked whilst off guard, Count Moneybone snapped his bony fingers once more, summoning into the skies an entire air support squadron of his own robots; all of a model similar to that which he had used in his final battle during Swap Force.

     Thankfully for Astroblast, even though Fiesta’s Amigos weren’t as experienced working in the Sun Runner as they were the Crypt Crusher, they still knew their way around Supercharger vehicles’ supporting firearms, and were not hesitant to show it.

     “TAKE THIS YA STUPID…COPTER BOT THINGS!” Dos hollered out from the shotgun seat as he and his fellow Amigos gathered up around the Sun Runner’s supporting firearms control panel in front of the very same seat.

     With the Amigos covering him, Astroblast was free to focus on Count Moneybone, who was, no doubt, firing back at the Sun Runner in the form of purple plasma ball blasts from his robotic suit’s wrists. Weaving in and around to dodge the shots, Astroblast kept his gaze locked firmly onto the former ruler of the underworld; knowing once the snarky Skeleton’s robotic armor gave in, he would be rendered essentially helpless. Utilizing his Sun Runner’s Satellite Support move, the crystalline Supercharger could now see Count Moneybone’s health bar above his suit’s skull headpiece, whilst he continuously whittled it down with his lasers.

     “HEY! WOULD YOU STOP MOVING AROUND? IT’S WORKING ANNOYINGLY WELL!” Count Moneybone eventually roared up towards the still-firing Spacecraft and its occupants.

     The instant this remark hit Fiesta’s metaphorical ears, the captive Supercharger burst out into a prolonged bout of half-smirking half-chuckling at his former dictator and prolonged mutual rival.

     “You never actually learn anything, do you?”

     “SHUT UP, FIESTA, OR ELSE YOUR LOWER JAW’S GETTING RIPPED OFF, TOO!”

     “Hah! Oh really? Well I’d just LOVE to see you try!”

     Swiveling his robotic suit’s head around to meet with Fiesta’s challenging gaze, Count Moneybone let a growl progressively rise up in his metaphorical throat.

     “I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I ONCE PUNCHED ONE OF THOSE STUPID TROLL SHREDNAUGHT MACHINES OUT OF COMMISSION WITH THIS SUIT! IN ONE PUNCH! SO UNLESS YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW, EXPECT TO SEE YOUR MANDIBLE ON MY TROPHY SHELF!”

     Fiesta held onto the resulting silence for only a single second “...what suit?”

     “WHAT-?”

    *FSHWINK-CLUNK*

    “.......................................................uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……………………the one that’s now in pieces on the floor?”

     “Alright, Moneybone! Hand him over!” Astroblast called out to the defeated skeleton as he slowly lowered the Sun Runner towards ground level. “Everyone here knows what’s going to happen if you don’t, so why don’t you just save yourself all that trouble, and put Fiesta down NOW?”

     “...........................................uh……..” Count Moneybone blankly vocalized, his immobilized body shaking in bewilderment as his eyes betrayed the dawning of reality. “Uh-......umm…….I-” and then, just like that, the infamous former ruler of the underworld perked all the way back up. In stance, in demeanor, in everything. Just as if nothing had ever happened at all.

     “Oh, oh you may THINK you’ve already won, but what kind of evil genius doesn’t have a secret backup plan lying up their sleeve?”

     “What? What is he-no. No, I can’t just assume that he’s bluffing. I gotta stay on guard!” Astroblast internally deliberated as the metaphorical neurons within Count Moneybone’s skull began firing for the very first time in the entire encounter.

     “YES, YES! LIE THERE IN SHOCK, OH WON’T YOU? BECAUSE I JUST SO HAPPEN TO HAVE ONE MORE ADVANCED SECRET TECHNIQUE LEFT!” Count Moneybone continued, ending his sentence with a dramatic point into the air. “WITH A TWIST!”

     “Secret technique? Wait a second IF THIS GUY ACTUALLY THINKS HE’S GOING TO OUTRUN THE SUN RUNNER-”

     “YEET!”

      “WHA-?”

      “FIESTA!” the three Amigos shrieked out in rising horror.

     Immediately slamming the Sun Runner’s gas pedal, Astroblast lurched forwards in order to zip his way over to the newly airborne Fiesta, before his momentum was brought to a nauseating instantaneous halt a second later by a newly snapped-in barrage of Count Moneybone’s air support robots. Looking through a stray gap in the currently robot-smothered windshield, Astroblast could see Count Moneybone sprinting forwards upon the clouds, presumably in order to snatch up the now undoubtedly unconscious Fiesta before he could.

     “YOU THREE HOLD BACK THE ROBOTS! I’LL GO AFTER FIESTA!” Astroblast called out to the Amigos as the Sun Runner’s windshield flipped open. With the robots now having been launched into every conceivable direction, Astroblast snagged the swiftly-dwindling opportunity and lept out of the driver’s seat onto the ground.

     Sensing a faint: “WE’RE ON IT!” echoing from behind him, Astroblast’s astronaut boots pounded against the floor as he began gaining ground on Count Moneybone.

     “MONEYBONE!” Astroblast screeched out to the sprinting Skeleton before him.

     “HUH?” Count Moneybone heaved out before taking a glance over his shoulder.

     “HEY, WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY LASER GUN AGAIN?”

     “...uh…uh-oh.” 

     Promptly picking up the pace, not out of the need to make it to Fiesta first, but out of his own natural instinct for self-preservation, Count Moneybone let a terrified: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” escape his metaphorical lungs as he continued scampering forth. Ultimately, however, his overflowing metaphorical synapses were eventually forced to admit that he couldn’t keep himself out of firing range forever. And that was when it finally came to him.

     “WELP, GUESS IT'S TIME TO MAKE USE OF THE CLASSIC VERSION!”

     Before Astroblast behind him even had a chance to react, much less attempt to figure out what that even meant, Count Moneybone had completely swiveled himself around.

     “RUN AWAY!” he began to wail as he hotfooted himself out of danger.

     “Ugh…” Astroblast groaned while rolling his eyes. 

     Placing his laser gun back at his side so he could have both hands ready to grab ahold of Fiesta, Astroblast continued sprinting forwards. 

     “There’s absolutely no way that Count Moneybone could’ve thrown Fiesta any significant distance. I’ve gotta be getting really close-THERE HE IS!”

     As he had suspected, Fiesta was out cold. Astroblast needed to look him over for injuries as soon as he possibly could, and to this end, as the shrunken Supercharger gained more and more room in his field of view, Astroblast timed a leap forwards with an outstretched arm.

      Successfully snagging the skeleton off the floor with his right hand as a result, Astroblast immediately began feeling over Fiesta’s body to make sure he wasn’t severely injured. He couldn’t care less that he’d landed on his chest from his leap. All that mattered was whether or not his friend was hurt.

     A swift preliminary check told Astroblast that Fiesta hadn’t gained any major breaks or fractures from getting thrown across the terrain. Importantly, that meant moving or handling him wasn’t going to exacerbate any injuries. 

     “...okay, now that Fiesta’s safe, I’ve gotta go back and help the Amigos clear out the rest of those robots, so we can finally get back to the Academy!” he internally noted to himself.

     Now, there was nothing left to do except get up off the floor and go. To this end, Astroblast attempted to pick up his left foot so he could place it onto the ground and push himself upwards. Only to feel his entire leg getting violently dragged back down to the floor, seemingly a millisecond later.

     “WHA-”

     “HAH! DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS GOING TO GIVE UP THAT EASILY?”

     “MONEYBONE!”

     “THAT’S COUNT MONEYBONE TO YOU, ASTROBLAST DANGER GUTS!”

     Not only had the skeletal former dictator somehow slid himself back into the game, he seemed to be keeping a bewilderingly firm hold on Astroblast’s leg, preventing the Supercharger’s escape. It would only take one glance backwards, however, for this momentary mystery to be solved.

     “AHAHAHAH! NOW WHAT SORT OF EVIL GENIUS DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE, IF I DIDN’T HAVE MORE ROBOTIC ARMOR SUITS AT MY FINGERTIPS?”

     Astroblast strained to reach for his laser gun at his side, only for the full force of the suit’s left foot to come crashing down upon his forearm as he did. An overwhelming barrage of sharp, tingling pain signals shot straight to the crystal man’s brain before the numbness began to settle in.

     Count Moneybone only smirked as he immediately followed this up with a plasma ball blast straight  to the face. The superheated purple orb struck Astroblast square on the left cheek, creating a great, branching crack in the region, and causing him to give a pained: “GURNGH!” sound as a newfound burning sensation seared into the wound.

      “JUST HAND HIM OVER ALREADY! WE’RE NOT PLAYING THIS GAME OF KEEP AWAY ANY MORE!”

Count Moneybone spat out to the writhing Supercharger below.

“NOT LIKE YOU CAN REALLY DO ANYTHING ELSE ANYWAY! …EXCEPT DIE, OF COURSE!”

     Astroblast continued to breathe as he lay trapped within the armored skeleton’s grasp. Count Moneybone, then, continued awaiting an answer, positively reveling in the elation of his ultimate victory, as he did.

     “...no.” Astroblast finally broke the silence, in a pained and ragged, yet, to Count Moneybone, shockingly composed tone. “No. There’s still one more thing I can do.”

     Without skipping a single beat, Astroblast shakily moved his arm holding Fiesta in closer to his face, as he glared Count Moneybone straight down his undead pupils with narrowed eyes.

     And that was when he opened up his mouth.

     It seemed as though time itself had dilated around the two conscious beings to a point where it halted entirely. Yet with each passing nanosecond, Count Moneybone’s metaphorical neurons were able to continuously piece together exactly what Astroblast was doing. Still, he could only react as fast as his metaphorical brain could process his actions. Bound by his physical limitations within the shackles of time’s linear arrow, Count Moneybone was resigned to the role of a mere observer, whilst Astroblast’s own movements progressed.

     Astroblast knew very well that this might just be the only possible way he could protect his friend in this moment. That meant that no matter how Fiesta tasted, or how hard he was to swallow, Astroblast was going to get him down to safety. Down to a place where the shrunken skeleton was quite literally surrounded by his friend. Surrounded by the soft, malleable walls of his stomach, but also by the solid, firm, crystal exterior that acted as his skin.

     And so, Astroblast stretched open his crystal jaws, exposing the fleshy interior of his maw, as he extended his white-colored tongue, where Fiesta would be laid down. Upon the unconscious skeleton’s first contact with his fellow Supercharger’s taste buds, the sensory receptor cells zapped his flavor up to the crystal man’s brain; just as fast as time would allow. Though Astroblast’s brain was certainly not in a position to focus its resources on examining Fiesta’s taste, the signal was nonetheless received. Thus, as Fiesta was slid further along the warm, squishy surface of the tongue, his mildly spicy chili pepper flavor was dragged along with him. It certainly wasn’t anything Astroblast couldn’t handle, though. (Especially not after all his Enchilada Night experience). So, the light Supercharger merely shoved his skeletal friend deeper into his maw, as Count Moneybone stood by, imobile.

     Eventually, Fiesta was pushed deep enough into Astroblast’s maw to where his skull headpiece bumped against his white uvula. The plump, bulbous sack of flesh swung back and forth for a while from the strike, as Fiesta’s shoes entered into the maw at last. 

     Able to sense the entirety of his friend’s form tucked away within his maw, Astroblast swiftly snapped shut his jaws, enclosing Fiesta inside the warm, damp chamber, and causing a *click* noise to echo throughout it, not like Fiesta could even hear it in the first place. 

     Count Moneybone sure could, though, the detection of which only solidified in his mind the notion of what Astroblast was going to do. For even though his maw was sealed up and secluded, it could still very much be pried open with force. No, for Fiesta to be truly safe, he needed to go somewhere deeper.

     Raising up the back of his tongue, Astroblast could sense Fiesta’s skull headpiece scraping against the alveolar ridges upon his hard palate. Soon, gravity would draw the skeleton downwards and towards the crystal man’s pharynx. With sealed jaws leaving hardly any room for comfortability, Astroblast could sense both Fiesta’s skull headpiece as well as the felt on the back of his Mariachi suit brushing up against his soft palette, naturally resulting in a second contact with his uvula. Nonetheless, he understood deeply that right now, the most important objective was to keep his friend safe. Consequently, the crystal man’s white colored epiglottis covered up his laryngeal inlet, as his upper esophageal sphincter opened up. Fiesta’s head and skeletal upper body were thus slid past the laryngopharynx, and into the muscle region of the sphincter, as the downward pushing motion of swallowing squeezed the aforementioned sections of his body into the esophagus. 

     Astroblast didn’t waste any time completing the job, swallowing again in order to shove Fiesta’s  middle body into the muscular tube; once more for his legs, and one final time for his Mariachi shoes. His esophagus’ rhythmic, involuntary contractions of peristalsis could handle the rest.

     And that was when time came rushing back. 

     Astroblast heaved in a gasp of air the instant Fiesta’s shoes slid past his upper esophageal sphincter. Reality began to settle in as a newfound jolt of adrenaline hit his veins. One second later, he could sense that Count Moneybone’s hold around his leg had loosened, as he was still very much stunned. Yanking his leg out of the former dictator’s grasp and planting both his feet on the ground whilst forcing his arms up underneath him, Astroblast gathered all his energy into his left leg. 

     At last, the full force of an upwards striking kick smashed squarely into the skull headpiece of Count Moneybone’s robotic suit, completely cracking the thing open and exposing the fragile form of the skeleton’s head lying within. 

     Now back standing upright, Astroblast needed only to kick the skeletal villain straight in his delicate skull, exactly as he did with the headpiece; thus removing him from the battle entirely. 

     Count Moneybone’s eyes rolled into the back of his sockets as his jaws dropped open from the shock. Soon enough, the entire suit toppled over all at once, as the electronics within began shutting down; presumably due to the unconscious state of its user. 

     Now, there was nothing to do except run.

     His feet striking against the cloudy grounds of the light zone, Astroblast’s adrenaline continued to course through his being, before he spontaneously became vividly aware of Fiesta halfway down his esophagus.

     The continuous peristaltic motions within the organ guided the skeleton towards the stomach as Astroblast’s body continued running forwards. Astroblast himself, however, wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep doing so, mainly considering his injuries. As a result, whilst Fiesta proceeded to move beyond his collarbone, he began to look around for some cover he could safely hide behind.

     Until he could find some, though, he needed to keep going.

     Suddenly able to sense his lower esophageal sphincter opening up as Fiesta was squeezed through, Astroblast finally spotted a cluster of boulders lying in the distance. Picking up his pace as Fiesta made a splashdown in his stomach, Astroblast could sense his fellow Supercharger’s form sloshing around within the non-acidic liquids of the organ. Eventually, however, the shrunken skeleton’s body settled down against the stomach wall, stabilizing him within the crystal man’s guts.

     As he approached the assemblage of boulders he spotted, Astroblast’s speed began to slow. Not only so he could bring himself to a stop when he reached his refuge, but also because he didn’t want Fiesta to get swirled around in his stomach anymore, which was already naturally churning to begin with.

     At last, Astroblast had slowed to a walking pace, as the boulders were now right in front of him. Continuing to pant strenuously as he set himself down against the largest of the bunch, Astroblast shakily placed his left hand over his middle, as an extra layer of protection for Fiesta within.

     The crystal Supercharger could faintly sense a gurgle emulating from the region, as his wholly exhausted, injured body began to slip into unconsciousness. 

****

     The very last thing Fiesta remembered before he struck the ground was, well, being hurtled through the air en route to the ground. Needless to say, then, the moment the shrunken skeleton began to regain consciousness, he did so with hardly any clues about where he could possibly be at this point. That was precisely why, the moment a low-pitched, echoing, rather boisterous rumble graced his metaphorical ears, Fiesta’s interest was roused. 

     Based on the rumble alone, Fiesta could presume that wherever he was right now was an enclosed space, as the echoes didn’t sound as if they had traveled very far. As his metaphorical brain continued to wake, he was soon able to sense that there were many softer noises of similar tones and timbre resonating in his surroundings as well. 

     Something about those noises sounded…familiar. As if he should be able to pinpoint exactly what they were. But as Fiesta knew he wasn’t exactly awake at the current moment, he wasn’t going to force himself to try and figure out their identity quite yet.

     Instead then, he merely examined this mystery chamber’s warmth which his body was now detecting, whilst his bony fingers felt their way over the wall, or obstruction, or whatever else, he was lying up against. The heat itself lay within that glorious sweet spot range that anyone would wish their bed’s blanket would bestow onto them at night. It was comforting, as though it was physically wrapped around him, ensconcing him within an ease of relaxation which could easily lull one to sleep. Yet it did not overheat his form, to where he began yearning for the release of cold air. 

     As for whatever he was lying up against, Fiesta’s first impressions as he glided his fingers over its surface, was that it was slick, damp, and smooth to the touch, yet malleable, and pillowy in its firmness. Fiesta was soon to realize after making these observations, that they were moving as well. Moving in the same way that one’s chest would move up and down as they breathed. Noticeable, yet subtle, rhythmic, and constant. But that wasn’t the only thing that was moving.

     Swishing faintly beneath his bony waist seemed to be some form of liquid pool. Judging from the fact he wasn’t feeling any pain, Fiesta presumed it to be similar to water in nature. Taking in a breath through his skeletal nose, he could sense no sour or bitter smells within his current surroundings, which only further supported that presumption. Exhaling from the same region, Fiesta was now feeling considerably more aware of both himself and his present confines. Thus, there remained nothing else left to do but open his eyes, and figure out once and for all where he was. 

     The moment Fiesta’s eyes flickered open, he was immediately graced by the color white. Once his eyes took the seconds they needed to refocus, the forms of the shifting white walls, and the clear-colored rippling pool below, became apparent. Taking a swift glance around, Fiesta could now be certain he was within an enclosed, secluded area; and that this area was, for now at least, safe. But…what was this area, exactly?

     Heaving in and out a sigh as he repositioned himself with his back against the wall, and his legs straight out in front of him, Fiesta lay down for a moment, before yet another question struck his being.

     Where was Astroblast right now?

     The last time he had seen his fellow Supercharger, he was piloting his Sun Runner near the ground, in a confrontation with Count Moneybone. Fiesta leaned forwards just slightly, and tilted his head downwards in thought. What had Astroblast done, exactly, after that? What had gone on between the crystal man and the Count after the latter had thrown him off into the distance? Fiesta glanced up and around the cushiony, heated chamber he was currently in. Had Astroblast put him in here? Still, where was here, exactly? Where was this white, compact, warm, damp, liquid-filled, squishy-

     Fiesta’s bony body froze up. 

     Yet another deep rumble reverberated across the churning walls, as Fiesta tilted his head upwards. Sure enough, there it was. All the confirmation he needed. He had no idea what the name for it was, but that was the lower esophageal sphincter he was currently staring at. Returning his head to its default position, Fiesta sat down in silence for a while, before eventually picking himself up and taking a couple of steps forwards whilst gazing at the liquid pool beneath him. Yet again, there it was, right below him under the waves. Though he could not identify it by name, he was gazing at the Pylorus, the sphincter leading from the stomach into the small intestine. Astroblast’s pylorus.

     Slowly returning to where he was laying before, and settling himself back down, waist deep within Astroblast’s stomach juices, the shrunken skeleton merely sat there in silence, save for the natural gurgling ambiance of the organ, and let himself take it all in.

     Eventually, however, his mind had finished doing such.

     Even if he was in Astroblast’s stomach, that was nothing to worry about! I mean, how else was his fellow Supercharger supposed to keep his shrunken form away from Count Moneybone’s unrelenting pursuit? It made complete sense! Plus, at the end of the day, what mattered most was that he was safe.

     And that was when a newfound sensation of mental clarity and calmness flooded over him. Only for it to completely dissipate just as fast as it had arrived. 

     He was most certainly safe right now. But could the same be said for Astroblast? Judging from the fact that he hadn’t heard the crystal man’s voice yet, and that he hadn’t felt the stomach’s spatial position change at all from any potential walking, running, or general moving around, Fiesta concluded his fellow Supercharger was most likely unconscious. 

    Still, that left one more very important question yet to be answered. Unconscious in safe surroundings, or unconscious in unsafe surroundings? Just as he hadn’t heard Astroblast’s voice since he woke up, he similarly hadn’t heard…well, anything else coming from outside the stomach. But this didn’t automatically mean his friend was out of danger. His years of experience as a Skylander had certainly taught him that well.

     At the very least, Fiesta did know that Astroblast was alive, and that his bodily functions were most likely all stable. He also knew Astroblast wasn’t being moved by anything or anyone. Yet, until he could get verbal confirmation from that man himself that he was okay, he would have no way of knowing for sure whether or not he really was.

     For now then, all he could do was wait, and stay vigilant about his observations. If anything about his current surroundings or situation changed, Fiesta would leap right on it. Leaning further back into Astroblast’s stomach walls, Fiesta gave a slight nod to himself, knowing what he needed to do.

****

     The very first things Astroblast could sense as his consciousness began to return were the sharp burning and throbbing sensations emulating from his damaged cheek; swiftly followed by the dull tinging in his injured arm. Still, he had regained a significant amount of energy since he had gone unconscious, and was therefore ready to get up and start moving again.

     But first, he needed to check on Fiesta. Upon his jittering eyelids opening wide enough, Astroblast glanced up, and upon seeing nothing of immediate danger, glanced down to his middle. He could sense that there was still pressure being exerted onto his stomach walls. That meant Fiesta was still in there. Judging from the fact he hadn’t heard anything besides gurgles coming from his guts since…well, since the tiny skeleton first arrived, Fiesta was also probably still unconscious. But he was still inside his stomach, and that meant he was safe.

     Now that he knew his friend was okay, Astroblast tilted his head back up, and glanced around his immediate field of view for a more thorough assessment of danger. After once again spotting nothing that could be of danger to him, he cautiously turned his head to the left, and then to the right. Still no danger. Even so, he wouldn’t know for sure whether or not he was safe until he looked behind himself.

     Cautiously placing both hands in front of him on the ground for support as he slowly shuffled onto his knees, Astroblast turned himself around in order to examine the region which was previously behind him. Nothing. That meant he was safe for now. Nonetheless-

     “Astroblast?”

     Reflexively leaping onto his feet in silence whilst yanking his laser gun from his side and aiming it in front of him, Astroblast swiftly came to his senses moments later.

     “Woah there, amigo! Calm down! It’s me!”

     Shifting his gaze back towards his midsection, Astroblast softly exhaled a relieved sigh.

     “Fiesta!”

     “Yep, that’s me!”

     “Are you okay?”

     “Most certainly! Are you?”

     “Well,” Astroblast hesitantly responded, not wanting his friend to get worried about him. “I took a couple hits back in a scuffle with Count Moneybone while trying to keep you away from him, but other than that, I’m fine.”

     “Well, you certainly succeeded in that, now, didn’t you?” Fiesta lightheartedly chuckled.

     “I…guess I did!” Astroblast replied with a giggle.

     “How did Moneybone even react to that?”

     “Shock.”

     “Eh, makes sense. Where are the Amigos?”

     “Count Moneybone summoned more air support bots, and I needed them to keep the robots back using the Sun Runner while I went after you on foot.” Astroblast explained. “Which basically means we’re just waiting for them to catch up at this point.”

    “I see. Guess it's time to start waiting, then!” Fiesta replied whilst placing his skeletal hands behind his head, laying one leg on top of the other, and leaning further back into Astroblast’s stomach walls.

     “Ummmm….” Astroblast awkwardly spoke upon this action, “...do you want to get out of there, or…”

     “Nah. It’s a lot safer in here, after all. And comfier. And warm. And…okay I think you get the picture.”

     “......alright, then! I’ll just…sit down, and start waiting, too.” Astroblast responded whilst carefully lowering himself to the floor, not wanting to disturb Fiesta within.

     Finally getting settled on the ground after a while, Astroblast proceeded to lay there in silence for a few seconds, before Fiesta perked up once again.

     “You know, I don’t know where you got this idea from, Astroblast, but however it happened, I guess it really does make you Astroblast Danger Guts!”

     To this, Astroblast could only give a stunned grin and a soft *pfft* sound as his uninjured cheek began blushing slightly. “...I-...I-I mean-” he struggled to form a response. “...well yeah! I… guess it really does! Heh…”

     Giving the walls he was presently snuggled up against a slight rub in solidarity, Fiesta then decided it would probably be best to stay quiet for a while.

     Thus, the two Superchargers rested silently in the midst of each other’s company, until the Sun Runner became visible over the horizon.

[georgieluz]

fuck professionalism and neutrality, i wanna hear alllllllll of your opinions!

okay, you've convinced me!

no, that didn't take much, bc i am, in fact, not professional or neutral at all! i am loud and annoying, so here we go!

musically, soar is my favourite. it just hits all the right spots for me and builds flawlessly. i just can't get enough of it and it really was a 'fall-in-love-at-first-listen' for me. i've had it on loop since the day it was released and there isn't a single section of the piece that i don't absolutely adore. i think it takes care of all its elements so well and transitions between sections beautifully. just truly 11/10, like i can't express how hard this score goes. blake neely truly outdid himself on this one. i have to mention how much i love the rest of the score for the show too, not just the main theme. i know that's not the topic of the poll, but i think he did a fantastic job and some of the scoring for the flight scenes genuinely raised my heart rate up high enough that my apple watch had to send me three warnings whilst i watched episode 5. but yeah, just a perfect score imo! and if i were being completely honest, in a very unbiased way, my outright favourite.

i do have a nostalgia bias for the band of brothers theme though, and i do think it's absolutely gorgeous and has a delicacy to it that the others don't. it gently prises open your rib cage and wraps its hand tenderly around your heart, squeezing just enough for a single tear drop to roll down your cheek. there's something inexplicably sad about it, but because of that tiny silver lining of hope that runs through every note as well, you can't quite pinpoint why you're sad. it's like you've had your memories erased, but you know you lost something more than just that, that something overwhelmingly sad happened to you, but you just don't know what. it builds so gently as well, and then finally, it soars just for a second right at the end, before landing us back down on the ground again ever so lightly.

so, those two are generally my two favourites, i would say, but as someone in the notes called out, i will admit that had i listened to both of them fresh for the first time today, i would feel more drawn to soar, because it's the kind of piece i really gravitate toward. whilst band of brothers is a show that i've held pretty dearly in my heart for about a decade now, so it has an element of familiarity, that comes from loving something for so long, helping it out.

someone else in the notes of the poll made a great point about gen kill's use of music (or lack of it) being a character in itself, and i thoroughly agree with them and think gen kill's handling of sound was spot on. it's whole thing is next-level-gritty-realism and it wouldn't have been as impactful, or successful, if they'd done it any other way when it came to sound design.

plus, ray providing the soundtrack is just top television!

honor is somber but also light in a way, so it doesn't overpower you too much, i prefer the beginning and middle sections, as the end builds into a more standard patriotic sounding piece (still beautiful but i find myself enjoying the earlier section much, much more). but yeah, it's still a favourite to listen to, i just don't tend to feel as drawn towards it as much as the other two.

i'll stop rambling now but i could go on all day about how much i love soar like i can't seem to shut up about it?

there's no right answer tbf like all these scores are great but soar kind of is the right answer really, for me at least.

– ask is in reference to this poll