#providing additional hiding places

[howdoesone]

How does one convince an Olm that it’s okay to come out and see the light?

Introduction to the Olm: The Mysterious Cave Dweller The Olm, also known as the “human fish,” is an enigmatic amphibian that resides in the dark, underwater caves of the Dinaric Alps in Europe. With its pale, almost translucent skin and ability to thrive in complete darkness, the Olm is a fascinating creature of the deep. Its eyes are underdeveloped, a testament to its life in perpetual…

[reidmarieprentiss]

Water Under the Bridge

Summary: Spencer grovels, he knows he needs to work to regain your trust. Your walls slowly come down, you find happiness. Is it with Spencer though?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: Derek Morgan <3, violence, typical criminal minds content, gun shots, guns, gun shot wound, (un)requited feelings, alcohol consumption, self doubt, happy ending

Word count: 9k

a/n: i cannot even lie to y'all i completely forgot about this story i am sooooo sorry !!!

main masterlist part one part two

It had been a few weeks since that intense conversation with Spencer, and though things weren’t fully resolved, there had been a subtle shift. Spencer had started making small, almost invisible gestures—little things that didn’t scream for attention but spoke volumes. 

One afternoon, you were deep into paperwork, your desk covered in case files. The exhaustion of the day was catching up with you, and you sighed, rubbing your temples. 

“Need a break?” a quiet voice came from behind you. You looked up to see Spencer standing there, holding two cups of coffee—your favorite order in one hand, and his in the other. 

You blinked in surprise. It had been a long time since he’d brought you coffee, but the gesture felt thoughtful, familiar. "How did you know I needed this?" you asked, unable to hide the small smile creeping onto your face.

Spencer shrugged, his expression soft. “Just a guess.”

There was no expectation behind his actions, no demand for forgiveness. He simply placed the coffee on your desk, then turned back toward his own space, giving you the room to process the gesture on your own terms.

—

Work had returned to its steady rhythm, and though things between you and Spencer weren’t as strained anymore, they were...different. Polite. Professional. But there were moments, small pockets of time, where the old familiarity would creep back in.

During a briefing for a new case, you were reviewing the suspect’s profile when Hotch called for your opinion. Your mind momentarily blanked, the exhaustion of the case starting to cloud your thoughts. 

Spencer caught your hesitation from across the table, his eyes flicking toward you with a quiet understanding. He gently stepped in, providing additional information from the file—almost as if he could sense that you needed a moment.

He didn’t overstep, didn’t make it obvious. He just gave you a subtle nod, like the small lifeline was there for you to take or leave. You caught his gaze and offered a brief, appreciative smile. 

After the meeting, you found him near the coffee machine and walked over. “Thanks for that,” you said quietly.

“No problem,” he replied with a small smile. “I’ve got your back.”

It was nothing monumental, just a brief exchange, but it carried a weight of understanding and a reminder of what you once had—and what was slowly being rebuilt.

—

The tension between you and Spencer still lingered, but something had shifted. Spencer wasn’t pressuring you. He wasn’t trying to force a conversation or make grand gestures. Instead, he focused on the little things, the small ways he could help and support you. And that was how, in the middle of a particularly stressful case, you noticed it.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at the seemingly endless stream of witness statements, trying to piece together a lead. Frustration gnawed at you, the pressure of the case and your unresolved feelings with Spencer weighing you down.

Without a word, Spencer appeared at your side, placing a stack of neatly organized files in front of you. “I cross-referenced the witness testimonies with the surveillance footage. There’s a pattern in their timelines that wasn’t obvious at first.”

You blinked, staring at the files. “You did this?”

He nodded, his expression calm, no hint of expectation. “I figured it might help.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. This wasn’t the Spencer who had pushed you away. This was someone who was quietly, steadily trying to be there for you. You picked up the files, scanning the information. He had found connections you hadn’t seen.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said softly, looking up at him. There was no grand declaration in that moment, just a flicker of gratitude and trust slowly beginning to rebuild. And for the first time, you felt like you could let down your guard, just a little.

—

Weeks passed, and Spencer continued to show up in small ways. He didn’t push. He didn’t demand. He was just there, reliable and steady in a way you hadn’t expected from him anymore. You noticed the change. It wasn’t loud or overt, but it was there—his remorse, his commitment to making things better.

One day, in the middle of a case, you found yourselves paired together to interview a witness. The professional atmosphere between you was smooth, almost comfortable again. But as you were driving back to the precinct, there was a moment of silence, and then Spencer spoke.

“I know I can’t undo what happened,” he said, his voice soft but clear. “But I want you to know… I’m still here, and I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes. For you to trust me again.” Spencer glanced at you briefly, “I miss my friend.”

His words hung in the air, genuine and without pressure. You glanced over at him, surprised by the calmness in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t expecting a grand gesture from you in return. He just wanted you to know that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was ready to put in the effort.

You nodded, your heart softening. “I appreciate that, Spencer,” you said quietly. “I’m starting to see that. I miss you too.”

—

The case was coming to a close, you had been staring at the whiteboard, trying to make sense of the last few pieces of evidence when Spencer approached quietly. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood beside you, studying the board.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said after a moment, his tone soft but familiar, like the Spencer you used to know. 

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Thinking too hard? That’s rich, coming from you.”

Spencer smiled faintly, the tension between you easing just a little. “Sometimes, you need to step back and see the bigger picture. You’ve been doing this long enough to know that.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve been seeing the bigger picture lately.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his voice quieter. “You’re not alone, you know. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. I’m... I’m here.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. He wasn’t just talking about the case. He was talking about everything—the trust that had been broken, the space that had grown between you.

“I know,” you replied softly, your voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and something else—something closer to hope. 

—

A month later, things had continued to ease between you and Spencer. You still weren’t back to where you had been, but you had begun to feel comfortable enough around him to let your guard down a little. The tension wasn’t as sharp, and the moments of silence between you weren’t so uncomfortable anymore.

One day, while sorting through case files, you made a sarcastic remark under your breath, something about the ridiculousness of the situation you were dealing with. To your surprise, Spencer chuckled, glancing over at you with a grin.

You blinked, and then, without meaning to, you laughed too—a genuine, unguarded laugh that seemed to surprise you both. It wasn’t forced or tense, but natural, like old times.

“Wow, I haven’t heard you laugh in a while,” Spencer remarked, his own smile still lingering.

“Yeah,” you said, your smile softening as you looked at him. “Maybe I’m starting to get my sense of humor back.”

The lightness between you felt… good. It wasn’t everything, but it was something. And for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things were on their way to being okay again. 

It wasn’t a grand reconciliation, but these moments—these small gestures of kindness, support, and patience—were building toward something real. And you were starting to believe that rebuilding trust was possible, even if it was slow.

—

Spencer had been acting like your friend again, and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

At first, it was small things—him stepping in to help with paperwork, offering a quiet word of encouragement when a case got tough. Little gestures that felt like the Spencer you used to know, the one you had trusted, the one you had fallen in love with. But that same Spencer had also been the one who pushed you away, the one who had broken your heart when he refused your feelings. And now, here he was, quietly working his way back into your life, like nothing had changed, like everything could go back to the way it was.

You wanted to be angry. Part of you still was angry. You had been hurt deeply, and that kind of pain didn’t just vanish overnight. Spencer had rejected you when you were at your most vulnerable, leaving you to pick up the pieces on your own. You had worked hard to move on, to distance yourself from the feelings that had once consumed you. And now, just when you thought you were starting to heal, he was back. Trying to be your friend again. Acting like nothing had ever happened.

But the other part of you—the part that remembered how close you used to be—couldn’t help but notice the change in him. Spencer wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t pressuring you. He was just... there. Quietly supportive, offering small signs of care without demanding anything in return. His persistence, his steady presence, was starting to soften something inside you. And that terrified you.

You didn’t want to fall back into the same trap. You didn’t want to reopen old wounds only to have them torn apart again. But there was no denying that Spencer’s efforts were genuine, and it was getting harder to keep your walls up. His actions were slowly chipping away at your resolve, and every time he made you laugh or showed you a quiet kindness, you felt a piece of your guard slipping.

Were you truly over him? That was the question that haunted you, one you didn’t have an answer to. You had tried so hard to move on, to convince yourself that the feelings you had for Spencer were in the past, but now... now you weren’t so sure. His persistence was making you question everything, reopening emotions you thought you had buried. 

The problem was, you didn’t know if you were ready to face those feelings again. What if Spencer wasn’t? What if he didn’t mean it? You couldn’t bear the thought of being hurt again, of opening yourself up only to have him pull away. But the longer this went on, the more you felt the old connection between you returning, bit by bit, moment by moment. 

And so you were stuck, torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of something new. Spencer was showing you he had changed, but could you trust that? Could you trust him? Could you trust yourself not to fall too hard, too fast again?

The uncertainty was maddening, and yet, you couldn’t seem to stop the slow progression of your feelings. Spencer’s persistence was working, and no matter how much you tried to deny it, part of you was starting to hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

—

It started innocently enough, the way all promising things seem to. You met them at a bookstore, of all places. It was a weekend, and you were just browsing, trying to enjoy a quiet afternoon away from the chaos of the job. You weren’t expecting anything, least of all meeting someone who would leave such a strong impression on you. 

You were reaching for a book when their voice broke through the silence. “That’s a good one,” they said, pointing to the novel in your hand. “One of my favorites, actually.”

You looked up, surprised to see a person standing there with an easy smile. They were tall, with sharp eyes that held a warmth you wanted to look into for a long while. Their demeanor wasn’t overbearing, just casual, like they genuinely wanted to offer a recommendation. 

“Yeah?” you replied, glancing at the book. “I’ve heard good things about it.”

“I promise it won’t disappoint,” they added, and something about the sincerity in their voice made you smile back.

That was how it began. A casual conversation over books that somehow stretched into coffee. You learned that their name was Ricky, that they were professor at a nearby college. Their life seemed different from yours—calmer, grounded in routine, free from the dangers and chaos of your work. It was refreshing. They treated you with respect, asked about your opinions, and listened to your stories with genuine interest. And when they smiled at you, it wasn’t just a fleeting look—it was as though they were truly seeing you, valuing you.

There was something about Ricky that you couldn’t ignore. They didn’t know about your history with Spencer, about the complicated mess of emotions you were still untangling. They didn’t need to. They just treated you with the kind of respect and consistency you had been craving for so long. It felt easy with them. Simple.

After that first meeting, Ricky started to show up in your life more often. They texted you to check in, asked you about your day. They were attentive in a way that wasn’t overwhelming but was instead comforting. It wasn’t like you were looking to fall into something serious, not after everything with Spencer. But Ricky was… different. They weren't rushing you, weren't pressing for more than what you were willing to give. They were just there, steady and dependable, and that was enough for now.

One night, after a particularly hard day at work, they invited you over for dinner. You had expected something casual, maybe takeout or a quick bite, but when you arrived at their place, you were greeted with the smell of home-cooked food. “Thought you could use a break,” they said with that same warm smile. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you were missing.

Ricky’s presence in your life began to fill a space you hadn’t known was empty. They weren't just kind—they were consistent, reliable. They showed up when they said they would. They followed through on promises. There was no second-guessing with them, no worrying about where you stood. And that, in itself, was a relief. After months of emotional turbulence with Spencer, this felt like a breath of fresh air.

But as things with Ricky slowly began to grow, you couldn’t help but feel the tug of uncertainty in the back of your mind. You weren’t sure if it was because of your history with Spencer, or because you still weren’t fully convinced you had moved on from him. Every now and then, you caught yourself comparing the two—Spencer’s awkward brilliance against Ricky’s steady confidence. It was hard not to.

Yet, with Ricky, there was no fear of rejection, no walking on eggshells wondering if they would pull away. They didn’t carry the same emotional baggage as Spencer did. There were no lingering unsaid confessions or missed opportunities between you two. Ricky was here, in the present, offering you a chance at something you hadn’t had in a long time—stability.

And you couldn’t deny how much that appealed to you. The question now was whether stability was what you truly wanted… or if part of you was still hoping for something more, something unresolved with Spencer.

Spencer had been making slow, steady progress toward reconciling with you. He could feel it in the way your smiles came a little easier, how the conversations between you two were no longer strained, how you were starting to trust him again—bit by bit. He had convinced himself that, if he kept showing up, kept proving to you that he was different now, there might still be a chance. A chance to rebuild, to maybe even become more than friends. It was a fragile hope, but it kept him going.

That fragile hope was shattered the moment he found out about Ricky.

It wasn’t as though you had hidden anything from him. In fact, Spencer hadn’t even realized you had been seeing someone else. It wasn’t until Penelope, in her usual excitement, let it slip in the bullpen during lunch. “Oh my god, have you met Y/N’s new squeeze, Ricky? They’re so lovely!” she had gushed to JJ and Derek, who nodded along.

Spencer’s heart dropped into his stomach.

He had been standing just a few feet away, filing paperwork, and the sound of Ricky’s name hit him like a freight train. His fingers froze mid-motion, and the world seemed to blur around him. You’re seeing someone? Ricky? When had this happened?

He couldn’t stop himself from listening in, trying to gather as much as he could without fully intruding.

“Yeah, Ricky’s super sweet. Y/N seems really happy with them,” JJ added, smiling as she sipped her coffee. “It’s nice to see her like this after everything.”

Happy? Spencer’s mind raced, the weight of that word sinking in. You were happy—with someone else. Someone who wasn’t him. He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing as the realization settled deep in his chest. You had moved on. While he had been working his way back into your life, trying to earn your trust, you had found someone else. And not just anyone—someone you were happy with.

Spencer tried to shake it off, tried to focus on his work, but the jealousy and hurt were gnawing at him, louder with each passing second. The idea of you with someone else, of someone else holding the place he had wanted to hold for so long, made his chest tighten painfully. He had been so sure that if he just kept at it, if he just kept being patient, eventually you’d see he had changed.

But now… now he wasn’t sure what to think.

Later that day, Spencer found you by the coffee machine, and though he had planned to act normal, the words came out before he could stop them. “So, I hear you’re seeing someone?” His voice was tighter than he’d intended, and you looked up, surprised by the edge in his tone.

“Yeah,” you said slowly, studying his expression. “Ricky.” You didn’t elaborate, but Spencer could see the softness in your eyes, the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips when you said their name. It made his stomach churn.

He swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check. “You’re happy?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

You nodded, your smile more assured now. “Yeah, I am. Ricky’s... really good to me.” There was a contentment in your voice, the kind of contentment Spencer hadn’t heard from you in a long time. And that’s when it hit him—this wasn’t just a fling or a rebound. Ricky was important to you.

Spencer felt his chest tighten even further. He wanted to be happy for you—he did. But the jealousy, the frustration, and the deep sense of loss clouded everything. He had spent so long trying to make things right between you, and now it felt like he was too late. He had lost you, and it hurt more than he ever expected.

“You deserve to be happy,” Spencer finally said, forcing the words out despite the lump in his throat. “And... if Ricky makes you happy, then... that’s all that matters.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. There was something vulnerable in the way he was standing there, like he was on the edge of something, trying to hold it together. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” you said softly, not entirely sure what else to say. You could feel the tension between you two, the undercurrent of something unspoken still hanging in the air.

Spencer nodded, his hands in his pockets, trying to mask the turmoil he felt inside. He wanted to fight for you, to tell you that he still had feelings for you, that he wasn’t ready to step aside. But he also knew that your happiness had to come first, no matter how much it hurt. He had waited too long, hesitated too much, and now he was seeing the consequences.

Over the next few days, Spencer wrestled with his feelings. On one hand, he wanted to be selfish, to try and win you back, to show you that he was capable of being the person you needed. But on the other hand, he knew that wasn’t fair to you. You had found someone who treated you with the consistency and care you deserved, someone who didn’t leave you questioning where you stood. Spencer had to face the reality that he had lost his chance.

But the hardest part was realizing that, in his jealousy and frustration, he still cared more about your happiness than his own feelings. And that was the most painful truth of all.

Spencer paced back and forth in the bullpen after everyone else had gone for the evening. He had been trying to focus, trying to distract himself with paperwork, but his thoughts kept circling back to you and Ricky. The jealousy was suffocating, and he needed to vent before he exploded.

Derek was leaning against a desk, watching Spencer unravel. He hadn’t said anything yet, but he knew the kid was on edge. He’d seen it coming for a while, the tension between you and Spencer thick enough to cut with a knife.

Finally, Spencer couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I don’t get it,” he blurted out, frustration clear in his voice. “I’ve been trying, Derek. I’ve been patient, I’ve been showing up, trying to be there for her, and... and then Ricky comes along.��

Derek raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk forming on his face. “So that’s what this is about,” he said knowingly. “You jealous?”

“Jealous?” Spencer repeated, practically scoffing. “Of course I’m jealous! How could I not be? She’s with Ricky now, and they’re... they’re everything I should have been. Steady, consistent, caring—everything she deserves.”

Derek’s smirk only grew as he watched Spencer spiral, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew Spencer needed to get this off his chest, and, well, he’d been waiting for this moment. He knew something had been brewing between you two for ages.

Spencer continued, his pacing more frantic now. “I missed my chance, and I know it’s my fault. I messed up. I pushed her away when she needed me, and now... she’s moved on. And the worst part is, she’s happy, Derek. I saw it in her eyes when she talked about Ricky. She’s happy, and I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his voice breaking. “I don’t even know if I can be mad about it, because I want her to be happy. But it hurts like hell.”

Derek crossed his arms, nodding slowly. He had always known Spencer had feelings for you, even if the kid hadn’t admitted it to himself for a long time. Now, seeing him come apart like this over you, Derek couldn’t help but feel a bit smug—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be there for his friend.

“Look, man,” Derek started, trying to keep his voice steady, “I’ve been waiting for this conversation for a while. You’ve had feelings for Y/N forever, and I knew something was going on between you two, even if you were too stubborn to see it.”

Spencer stopped pacing and looked at Derek, his frustration clear. “How is that supposed to help me right now?”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “What I’m saying is, this whole thing with Ricky? It doesn’t mean it’s over for you and Y/N. Yeah, she’s happy, and yeah, it hurts like hell because you care about her. But you’ve got to stop thinking about what you should have done and start focusing on what you’re going to do next.”

Spencer frowned, his arms crossed defensively. “And what am I supposed to do, Derek? She’s with Ricky now. I don’t want to come between them.”

Derek leaned in a little, his expression softening but still firm. “I’m not saying you should swoop in and try to break them up. But you don’t have to give up either. You want to be in Y/N’s life? Then keep being her friend. Keep being there for her. Let her see the real you—the guy who’s learned from his mistakes.”

Spencer sighed, slumping into a chair, his frustration giving way to exhaustion. “I don’t know if that’s enough.”

Derek walked over and clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Kid, sometimes it’s not about doing the big, dramatic thing. Sometimes it’s about showing up, consistently, day after day, and letting her see who you really are. And if Ricky’s the one that makes her happy, then yeah, you’re gonna have to step aside. But if she starts seeing what I’ve seen for a long time—what I think she saw for a long time, too—then maybe you still have a chance.”

Spencer looked up at Derek, his heart heavy but grateful for the support. “You really think I still have a chance?”

Derek grinned, leaning back. “You never know, Pretty Boy. I’ve seen crazier things happen. But whatever you do, don’t give up just because it hurts right now. You’re too smart to throw in the towel without a fight.”

Spencer nodded, letting Derek’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t ready to walk away from you, not yet. And maybe, just maybe, Derek was right. Maybe showing up, day after day, was how he could finally prove to you that he was worth it.

And even if it hurt, even if it tore him apart inside to see you with someone else, he was willing to wait—if it meant having another chance with you.

—

It was an ordinary afternoon at the BAU, the usual hustle of agents moving around, paperwork piling up, and the sound of phones ringing in the background. Spencer sat at his desk, trying to focus on the case file in front of him, though his thoughts kept drifting. He was still grappling with his conversation with Derek the night before, still trying to figure out where he stood in this whole mess with you and Ricky.

Then, the moment he had dreaded arrived.

You were at your desk, focused on your work, when the doors to the bullpen opened. Spencer barely noticed at first, but then he heard your voice, light and filled with surprise. "Ricky!" you exclaimed.

His heart clenched immediately. Ricky's here? He looked up, and there they were, standing in front of you, holding a bag of takeout with a bright, beaming smile. Ricky was undeniably attractive—tall, fit, with an effortless style that made them stand out. Spencer’s stomach twisted with jealousy the moment he laid eyes on them. He couldn’t help but notice how perfect Ricky looked standing beside you, the two of you fitting together in a way that felt both natural and unfairly harmonious.

You smiled warmly, standing up to greet Ricky, the happiness evident in your eyes. It was a look Spencer hadn’t seen in a long time, and the sight of it—of how they made you feel—tore him apart inside. Ricky leaned in to kiss your cheek, their affection for you clear as day.

“I brought you lunch,” Ricky said, holding up the bag. “Figured you could use a break.”

You laughed softly, looking at them like they had just handed you a treasure. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off the interaction, though he desperately wanted to look away. His mind was screaming at him to stop torturing himself, but his body refused to move. The way you smiled at Ricky, the ease with which you stood close to them—it all felt like a punch to the gut. Spencer could practically feel the walls closing in on him, his insecurities clawing at his insides.

He hadn’t expected this. He wasn’t prepared to see how good the two of you looked together, how happy you seemed. The rational part of him knew it wasn’t fair to be upset; you deserved happiness, and Ricky clearly made you happy. But the irrational, jealous part of him—the part that still wanted you—was screaming at the injustice of it all.

Before Spencer could even think about leaving, you spotted him.

“Spencer!” you called out, waving him over. “Come say hi.”

He froze for a split second, forcing himself to stand up and walk toward you. Every step felt heavier, like wading through quicksand. When he reached you, he tried to keep his expression neutral, but his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Hi,” Spencer said, his voice a little tight but polite. His eyes flicked between you and Ricky, trying to hide the jealousy swirling in his gut.

Ricky smiled warmly, extending a hand. “You must be Spencer. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Spencer shook their hand, feeling a twinge of resentment bubbling up inside him. “Yeah, nice to meet you,” he replied, his tone short, though he didn’t mean it to be. He quickly released Ricky’s hand, feeling like his skin was burning from the contact. His mind was spinning, trying to process how calm and put together Ricky seemed, compared to the storm raging inside him.

“I brought Y/N some lunch,” Ricky said, smiling again, glancing over at you with such ease and affection. “Thought she might be too busy to grab something.”

Spencer nodded, his mouth dry. “That’s... thoughtful,” he said, though it took effort to get the words out. The thought of Ricky being so caring, so attentive, made his chest tighten painfully. That used to be his role—being there for you, knowing when you needed support.

The three of you stood there for a moment, the awkwardness thick in the air—at least for Spencer. You, however, seemed blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, still smiling brightly at Ricky, completely comfortable in their presence.

“Well, I’ll let you two enjoy your lunch,” Spencer said quickly, his throat tight. He couldn’t stand to watch any more of this. He gave a stiff nod and turned to head back to his desk, but not before catching a glimpse of the two of you exchanging a look—one that felt intimate, full of unspoken affection. It was the kind of look that made his heart feel like it was cracking open.

As he sat back down at his desk, Spencer’s mind raced, replaying the image of you with Ricky. They were everything Spencer wasn’t—confident, calm, and seemingly perfect for you. He had hoped that his efforts to rebuild trust, to show you that he cared, would be enough. But seeing you with Ricky made him realize just how far away that possibility felt. 

Inside, Spencer was dying. His jealousy clawed at him, and no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and Ricky. About how happy you looked. About how he had missed his chance.

—

It all came to a head during a case that had gone from bad to worse. You and Spencer had been assigned together, and from the moment you found yourselves alone, the tension between you was palpable. Every word exchanged was brief, clipped, and filled with the renewed weight of what had been left unsaid for months. The entire team had been tracking a dangerous and unpredictable unsub, one who had managed to evade capture for days despite the best efforts of the BAU. He was intelligent, calculating, and every lead you followed seemed to lead you into another dead end, tightening the pressure on all of you.

The unsub had taken a particular interest in his victims, following them for days, learning their routines, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had shown a pattern of escalating violence, and you all knew it was only a matter of time before he found his next victim. The team had been working around the clock, exhausted and on edge, but now things were spiraling out of control.

Late into the evening, a tip came through—an address tied to one of the unsub’s known aliases. You and Spencer were dispatched to check it out, sent ahead while the rest of the team secured other locations. The drive there had been silent, neither of you wanting to broach the thick tension hanging in the air. 

The house was isolated, sitting at the end of a long dirt road, and as soon as you arrived, you could sense something was wrong. The place was eerily quiet, too quiet. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and instinctively, you and Spencer exchanged a tense glance, wordlessly communicating the same thought: This feels like a trap.

The two of you moved cautiously, guns drawn, as you entered the darkened house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet seemed to echo in the oppressive silence, heightening the anxiety already clawing at your insides. Spencer stayed close behind you, the tension between you morphing into something different—something focused and sharp. You both knew you had to rely on each other now, no matter what had passed between you before.

The house was a maze of narrow hallways and closed doors, each one a potential danger. The unsub could be anywhere, lying in wait, ready to strike. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you approached the last room on the second floor. A faint sound caught your attention—a shuffle, like someone moving inside.

You nodded to Spencer, your breath quickening as you prepared to breach the door. He gave you a tight nod in return, his eyes never leaving yours. In that moment, despite everything that had gone unsaid, you trusted him completely. There was no room for the emotional wreckage between you, not here, not now. It was just you and Spencer, partners in the field, as it had always been.

You kicked the door in, gun raised, ready for whatever was waiting on the other side.

The room was empty.

For a split second, relief washed over you—until you heard it. A creak behind you. The unsub had been hiding, waiting, and before you could turn, you were slammed into the wall with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Your gun clattered to the ground as you struggled to regain your footing, your vision swimming.

Spencer reacted instantly, lunging toward the unsub, but the man was fast—too fast. He shoved Spencer back, sending him crashing into a table, and you could hear the wood splinter as Spencer groaned in pain.

Then shots were fired, the deafening cracks of gunfire ringing through the warehouse as adrenaline surged through your body. The world seemed to slow down in that moment, every sound and movement heightened, as you and Spencer dove for cover. Your feet barely touched the ground before you felt it—a sharp, searing pain tearing through your arm, hot and immediate. A bullet had grazed you, cutting through flesh, sending a shockwave of agony radiating down to your fingertips. You gasped, stumbling, the sudden pain momentarily overwhelming you.

"Y/N!" Spencer’s voice cut through the chaos, filled with raw panic as he reached for you, his hands grabbing your jacket and pulling you behind a stack of crates. His grip was urgent but gentle, protective as he maneuvered you out of the line of fire. 

Your vision blurred for a moment, the pain in your arm throbbing in sync with your rapid heartbeat. You pressed your hand to the wound instinctively, trying to stop the blood that was already starting to soak through your sleeve. It wasn’t deep, but it hurt like hell.

Spencer was crouched beside you, his body practically pressed against yours as he shielded you from any further shots. His eyes, wide with fear, flickered down to your arm. His hands hovered over you, trembling slightly, unsure where to touch without hurting you more. 

"You're bleeding," he muttered, his voice thick with worry as he gingerly pushed your sleeve up to get a better look at the wound. His face was pale, his jaw clenched tightly as he surveyed the damage. 

“I’m fine,” you managed to grit out, even though your arm was screaming in pain. You could see the fear in his eyes, how he was barely holding it together. 

“You’re not fine,” Spencer insisted, his voice a low whisper as he pressed his hand firmly over your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. His hand was warm against your cold skin, grounding you in the chaos. “You’re losing blood,” he added, his tone betraying the panic he was trying so hard to keep at bay.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade—the gunfire, the danger, the chaos surrounding you. It was just you and Spencer, his eyes locked on yours, his fear for you palpable. You had seen Spencer like this before, always worrying about others, but this was different. This was more than just concern for a partner in the field. This was desperation, a kind of fear you hadn’t seen in him before—like he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

His breath was shaky as he applied more pressure to your arm, his focus completely on you. “Stay with me, okay?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotions he was trying to hold back.

“I’m fine, Spencer,” you whispered, trying to smile through the pain, though it came out more like a grimace. 

But Spencer didn’t smile back. He was too focused, too panicked. His fingers pressed into your wound, his movements methodical, yet you could see how much this was affecting him. Every time you winced in pain, his face tightened, like he was the one being hurt. 

“We need to get out of here,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the room for an exit, for any sign of the unsub. The weight of his words hung in the air, but even more than that was the unspoken fear—he wasn’t just scared for your life. He was scared for the things that hadn’t been said between you, for the way things had been left unresolved.

But right now, it wasn’t the time to deal with the emotional storm brewing between the two of you. The only thing that mattered was getting out alive.

“I can’t lose you,” Spencer whispered, almost too softly for you to hear.

You blinked, confused, the pain in your arm momentarily forgotten. “What?”

“I can’t lose you,” he repeated, louder this time, his voice trembling. His eyes met yours, filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. “I love you.”

The confession hit you like a blow, the words settling into your chest, heavy and painful. This wasn’t the time for this—not now, not with the unsub hunting you both down, not after everything. But the rawness in his voice, the fear in his eyes—it was undeniable. Spencer was terrified, not just of the unsub but of losing you. And not just as a friend, but as something more.

“You can’t be serious,” you hissed, anger flaring inside you despite the circumstances. 

He looked pained, as if this hurt him just as much as it had hurt you. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, that I’d mess everything up. Please, Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to do this now!” you cut him off, the frustration boiling over. “You don’t get to confess your feelings when you know I’ve moved on, just because you suddenly realized you want me!”

Spencer’s face fell, guilt and desperation swirling in his eyes. “I know it’s unfair. I know I messed up, but I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t stand seeing you with someone else. Please, Y/N, just—”

“Why?” you shouted, your voice breaking as you fought through the emotions that had been bubbling under the surface for so long. “Why now? Why did you reject me in the first place if you felt this way?”

The pain in your voice seemed to hit him hard, and for a moment, Spencer was silent, struggling to find the words. “I was scared,” he finally admitted, his voice trembling. “I was scared of ruining what we had, scared that I wasn’t enough. I thought pushing you away would be better for you. But it wasn’t. I know that now.”

Tears stung at your eyes, the hurt and anger you’d buried for months now bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get to decide what’s better for me, Spencer. You don’t get to push me away and then pull me back when it’s convenient for you.”

Spencer’s voice cracked, his desperation clear. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I love you. I need you. Please, Y/N, leave Ricky. Give me another chance. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the raw sincerity in Spencer’s voice and the betrayal you still felt. You couldn’t deny that part of you still loved him. You had never stopped. But how was any of this fair? How could he expect you to just walk away from someone who had treated you with the respect and care Spencer hadn’t given you when you needed it most?

Before you could respond, the unsub’s footsteps grew closer, and the immediate danger snapped you both back to reality. There wasn’t time for this—there wasn’t time to unravel the mess of emotions that Spencer had just dumped into your lap. You had to survive this first.

The footsteps had stopped, and the sudden silence was deafening. It was too quiet, the kind of stillness that set your nerves on edge, making you hyper-aware of every creak and distant noise in the warehouse. You tried to focus through the pain in your arm, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you pressed your back against the crates. Spencer was beside you, but his back was turned, his focus drawn away as the weight of everything between you became too much for him to handle in that moment.

You were about to say something, when suddenly a cold, rough hand clamped over your mouth. Before you could react, the unsub yanked you to your feet, pulling you backward with a force that made your body jerk violently. The pain in your arm shot through you, but the fear was stronger. You struggled to breathe, your heart hammering in your chest as the unsub dragged you back into the shadows, his hand tight around your mouth, muffling any sound you could make.

Spencer didn’t notice. His mind had been racing, consumed by the danger you were in, by how much harder it had become to even look at you knowing how badly he had hurt you. He had turned away for just a second—just a second—and that’s all it had taken. You were gone before he could register the absence of your presence, before he could feel the shift in the air.

You thrashed against the unsub, your hands clawing at his arm as he pulled you further away, deeper into the warehouse, but he was too strong. His grip tightened around your face, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered, "Make one sound, and I’ll kill him first.”

Your blood ran cold. You knew he meant Spencer.

You stopped struggling, your breath coming out in shallow, panicked gasps, your mind racing as you tried to figure out a way out of this. You couldn’t let Spencer get hurt because of you. You couldn’t let this man take you away without a fight, but the threat was clear. One wrong move, one wrong sound, and it wouldn’t be just your life at risk.

But then Spencer turned back. He had been about to say something—ask if you were ready to move—but when he glanced over and saw that your spot beside him was empty, his heart stopped.

"Y/N?" His voice came out in a panic, eyes scanning the dimly lit space for any sign of you. It was too quiet, and the stillness of your absence sent his stomach into a free fall.

"Y/N!" Spencer shouted, his voice rising in fear, echoing off the walls. His heart raced as he spun in circles, desperately trying to figure out what had happened. The adrenaline from earlier flooded back, stronger now, sharp and cold. How had he let this happen? How had he let you get taken right in front of him?

He rushed forward, frantic, his mind clouded with the worst possibilities. Every second that passed felt like an eternity. The thought of you in the unsub’s grip, hurt, taken—gone—was unbearable. Spencer couldn’t breathe. His chest constricted with fear, and the guilt, the crushing weight of his failure, suffocated him.

"Y/N!" he called again, his voice breaking as he stumbled forward, every nerve in his body alight with desperation. He had let you slip away. He had failed to protect you. And now he was losing you—not just emotionally, but physically.

Spencer’s eyes scanned the dark warehouse, heart hammering in his chest, until he finally spotted the unsub, gripping you tightly, his hand still covering your mouth. Your eyes were wide with fear, but when they locked with Spencer’s, he saw more than just fear. He saw helplessness, anger, and beneath all of it, trust. You were trusting him to get you out of this.

“Let her go!” Spencer shouted, his voice shaking but resolute. His gun was raised, aimed directly at the unsub, but his mind was racing, terrified of making one wrong move that could put you in even more danger. The unsub shifted behind you, pulling you tighter against his body, using you as a shield. 

"You think I’ll just let her go? You think I’m that stupid?" the unsub snarled, his voice thick with menace.

Spencer’s throat tightened. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to act, to do something, but the unsub had you, and one wrong move could end everything. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.

"Take me instead!" Spencer suddenly blurted out, his voice desperate but filled with determination. His eyes never left yours as he spoke, his heart pounding in his chest. "Just... take me. Let her go, and I’ll come with you. You want leverage? Take me, not her."

Your eyes widened in shock, the pain in your arm forgotten as the weight of Spencer’s words hit you. He was offering himself, offering his life—for you. The unsub hesitated, clearly surprised by the sudden offer. He loosened his grip on you just slightly, his eyes flickering with consideration as he looked between you and Spencer.

"You think I’m going to fall for that?" the unsub growled, though you could feel his grip faltering as Spencer’s words sunk in.

But Spencer didn’t back down. He stepped forward, lowering his gun, his expression resolute. "I’m unarmed," he said, his voice steady despite the terror coursing through him. "You want to get out of here? Take me with you. Let her go."

Your heart pounded as you watched Spencer put himself in danger, his life on the line, all for you. Tears stung at your eyes, emotions swirling inside you—fear, anger, and above all, a deep, overwhelming sense of love. 

The unsub shoved you forward slightly, his grip loosening enough for you to gasp for air, but he still kept his arm tightly around your waist, the threat still lingering. Spencer’s eyes stayed locked on yours, silently promising that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Just as the unsub’s grip tightened again, a gun raised to Spencer, the sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. The team burst in, guns drawn, and before the unsub could react, they took him down in a hail of bullets. The unsub crumpled to the ground, his grip on you finally releasing.

You stumbled forward, breathless, your arm burning with pain. The world spun for a moment, the chaos of the situation hitting you all at once. But then, Spencer was there. He was at your side in an instant, his hands on your shoulders, his eyes scanning you for injuries, his expression wild with fear and relief.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he looked you over, his hands shaking slightly. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You could barely process the words. The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins, and the weight of what had just happened—what Spencer had just done for you—was crashing down around you. He had offered himself up, put his life on the line without hesitation, all to save yours.

"I'm... I'm okay," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked into his eyes. There was so much you wanted to say, but the words were stuck in your throat, tangled with the emotions swirling inside you. 

Spencer’s face was pale, his breaths uneven, but the way he looked at you was filled with nothing but relief. And in that moment, standing there with him in the aftermath of everything, you realized just how much you still loved him. How much you had always loved him. It was undeniable, impossible to ignore anymore.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, holding him close despite the pain in your arm. "Thank you," you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking with emotion. "You could’ve been killed, Spencer."

Spencer wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him, as if letting you go might mean losing you again. His voice was hoarse, filled with the same raw emotion. "I couldn’t let him take you. I couldn’t lose you."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. "Spencer, you... you put yourself in danger. For me. I don’t understand... after everything, why would you—"

“Because I love you,” Spencer interrupted, his voice soft but firm. His eyes locked onto yours, no more hesitation, no more fear. “I’ve always loved you. And I was an idiot to ever push you away. I didn’t deserve you then, and I probably don’t deserve you now, but I couldn’t just stand by and watch you get hurt. I couldn’t... I can’t live without you.”

The raw sincerity in his voice left you breathless. Everything you had been feeling, all the hurt, the love, the anger, bubbled up inside you. But in that moment, as you stared into Spencer’s eyes, all you could feel was the overwhelming love you still had for him. 

You reached up, cupping his face with your good hand, your voice barely above a whisper. "I still love you, Spencer. But you broke my heart. How is any of this fair?"

Spencer’s eyes filled with regret, his hands holding yours tightly. “I know. I know I hurt you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me. But please... don’t go back to Ricky. Don’t let this be the end for us. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just... give me a second chance.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between the love you still had for him and the fear of being hurt again. But as you stood there, Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, you realized that you had already made your choice.

With a deep breath, you whispered, “We’ll figure it out. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you off easy.” 

Spencer’s face softened with relief, a small, shaky smile tugging at his lips. "I wouldn’t expect anything less." 

And in that moment, despite the chaos, despite the danger you had just survived, you knew that the two of you would find a way forward—together.

—

Ricky swirled the ice in their glass, chuckling softly as they leaned back in their chair, the dim light of the bar casting shadows over their face. “I still think it’s messed up,” they said with a grin, shaking their head in disbelief.

Derek, sitting across from them, just smirked, taking a slow sip of his beer before setting the glass back down on the table with a quiet clink. “Nah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, completely unbothered. “I knew it would work.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow, their smile widening as they took a sip of their own drink. “You set me up to date her just to push her and Spencer together? That’s some next-level matchmaking, man. I’m surprised you didn’t end up on a bad side of this.”

Derek shrugged casually, his smirk never fading. “I had a feeling it was the push Pretty Boy needed. Y/N and Spencer? They’ve been dancing around each other for too long. I just gave ‘em a little... incentive.”

Ricky laughed, a low, amused sound. “Incentive? You mean you hired your friend to fake date her so she’d realize she was in love with someone else?”

“Hey, I didn’t say fake date,” Derek shot back with a playful grin. “You’re a catch, Ricky. I just knew you’d make her happy enough for Spencer to lose his mind.”

Ricky rolled their eyes but couldn’t stop laughing. “And here I thought I was the rebound.”

“Nah,” Derek said, shaking his head. “You were the wake-up call. Spencer needed to see what he was missing, and you? You helped him get there. Trust me, they’ll thank you for it one day.”

Ricky took another sip, still grinning. “Maybe. But still, man. Messed up.”

Derek just winked, lifting his beer in a mock toast. “To love, manipulation, and getting things done.” 

Ricky clinked their glass with his, shaking their head with a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

"That’s why you agreed to it," Derek said with a wide grin, taking another long drink. The audience had no idea, but now the truth was out, revealed in the easy banter between the two friends. It had all been part of the plan—a plan to push you and Spencer together once and for all.

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[prttylight]

Sebastian Vettel with Schumacher daughter? Age Gap/Forbidden love affair?

SV5 ★ secrets and kisses

★ Summary: Sebastian adored being your boyfriend, even if that meant lying to his idol. In where Sebastian and you, the daughter of Michael Schumacher, are in a secret relationship.

★ Sebastian Vettel x Schumacher Daughter. ★ Forbidden Love. Fluff. Kisses. ★ im thinking in a second part

You barely remember Seb as a child, not that you should feel guilty about that, life was busy then and there were so many people in your life that it was hard to keep him so present years later. But for Seb, your existence was still in the back of his mind, even after all this time; when you met again in the paddock, it was instantaneous, the feeling, the looks and the speed of your heartbeats were synchronized. Every night before you went to sleep you thought about all the things Seb had said during the day, their fleeting encounters and the interviews he gave after the races. Even though the feelings were there at first sight, the road to stability was a little slower. 

Every time they saw each other, they were surrounded by other pilots, which kept them together, since despite their age difference, they were still among the youngest. This gave them an excuse to spend more time together, but it should be made clear that even if the conversations were fluid and they always had a great time together, both kept their desires buried deep in their hearts and only let themselves be seen under the fascination of their eyes whenever they met. You could say that the mask of a mere friendly relationship was broken when Seb gave you a kiss on the cheek at one of the many parties, as innocent as it was, it changed everything for you. 

His rosy cheeks and the disappearance of Seb's self—confident attitude made you rest your lips on his. Fleeting, sweet and full of experiences to be discovered. That same night, on the balcony covered with plants, the German asked you to go out with him and you accepted. 

Almost half a year had passed since that first date when you and Seb became engaged and you couldn't be happier. Of course, it had its complications, the schedules of a Formula 1 driver and a college student with panic attacks about failing were not easy to manage, and there was another little problem. Hiding it from your father, Michael Schumacher. You weren't sure how your father, who had previously warned you that F1 drivers were a no—go area (and to be honest, you hadn't been that interested until Seb's arrival), would react, and on top of that, your father was your boyfriend's biggest idol and absolutely refused to let him down. For these reasons, your dates consisted of meetings in your car with fast food or simple walks listening to music during the weekends that you had a career (although it was not always possible because many times you did not accompany your father), while during the week they usually met in your apartment. It was no big deal, a small apartment that you had asked your parents for, with the excuse that you wanted to be closer to the university and that it was hard for you to concentrate at home with your siblings, they accepted on the condition that you could provide your own food. So, in addition to all the obstacles that were placed in front of your relationship, there were the hours of tutoring that you offered to the children in order to feed yourself. But it was all worth it. You were privileged, and having an apartment to meet Seb was an incredible advantage in your secret relationship. 

—You're coming to Monaco,” Seb asked, sitting on the floor as they ate at your coffee table in front of the TV. 

—Should I? I have a couple of essays due—Seb looked at you as you pursed your lips, you seemed to be thinking about it—But if I bring my computer I should come.

Your boyfriend smiled and unconsciously his shoulders shrugged in happiness. 

—That's good, we'll be able to sneak out in the evening—and slightly tilting towards your body with a mischievous smile he added—and I can help you with your homework. 

—Yes, sure. Homework—you rolled your eyes and Seb laughed quietly as he ate. He was so happy that his cheeks were red and sore. 

                                                     ──────────────────

The weather in Monaco was nice, you were wearing a tank top and an ankle—length blue skirt, a cool wind was blowing in from the balcony of your room and you decided to add a black jacket just in case the weather got even colder. Your younger brother looked at you with an arched eyebrow when you added pearl earrings to your outfit.

—Are you going out?" your brother questioned, not taking his eyes off his mobile phone.

—Yep — you didn't lie. You checked that everything was in your bag, and before you left you glanced briefly at your brother, "Don't stay playing and go out to dinner, at least with dad.

He nodded and you left the room walking down the corridors of the hotel with a smile on your face. As soon as you reached the lobby you spotted your dad talking to his friends and among them, Seb. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood and was joking loudly, you approached slowly and your boyfriend was the first one to see you with a little wave of his hand, which your father turned away from. Just as everyone was joking, they also greeted you. You approached your father just to say hello and let him know that you were going out with friends, you lied. He nodded, whispering to take care of yourself and not to come back late, you shook your head in agreement and before you left, you glanced briefly at Seb, whose eyes were, as usual in your presence, sparkling.

The plan was the same every race weekend, you would leave a few minutes early with the excuse that you would spend the night with your friends or colleagues, you would wait a few minutes a block away from the hotel they were staying at and Seb would come by with his car to pick you up and spend the evening together. It was one of their favourite activities to eat snacks in the car while they were driving and then they would buy food to take away and enjoy the evening in a prominent place in the city where the race was taking place.

You waited a few minutes on a well—lit corner and before you could even get bored of looking at the beautiful golden poles, Seb appeared in front of you with his rented car. You quickly hopped off the curb and opened the car door, Seb grabbed your bag as you settled into the seat and left a kiss on your cheek. You buckled in and he rested your bag on your lap.

—Ready?" Seb raised his eyebrows as if they were about to run a race.

—You grabbed the handle of your bag and Seb pulled away, smiling.

—You don't know," he asked as if it were obvious as he averted his eyes from the road for half a second to give you one of his cocky smiles, "We're going to spend our dinner at the best place in Monaco.

You pursed your lips into a smile; he was always so self—confident, so confident of making you nervous with the simplest acts that he managed to leave you speechless. You swallowed as you watched him turn down the streets of Monaco, he always drove with one hand and it would hurt your pride to accept how handsome he looked when he did.

—By the way, congratulations on passing the General Psychology exam — Seb congratulated you and that made your heart pound, but without thinking too much you shouted.

—How do you know that? I wanted to tell you at dinner," you stammered awkwardly, slapping his thigh; at your reaction Seb laughed hysterically, realising that it wasn't you who had told him, "You were guessing?

—No, no, honey," your heart trembled slightly at the nickname, before Seb continued laughing and tapped the steering wheel gently as he parked in front of a beautiful restaurant. He entangled his hands and with a kiss he placed on your forehead, he added, "Michael's been bragging about it all afternoon.

You gasped at the thought of your father bragging to his friends about something as mundane as passing an exam, especially in front of Seb. You covered your face with the palm of your hands and when you opened your mouth to moan, Seb spoke again.

—And I think you should too.

You frowned uncomprehendingly as you pulled your hands away from his face.

—What?

—You know, bragging, being proud of what you accomplish—Seb shrugged but his gaze was steady—You should be more proud of your accomplishments, I am. Every time we meet and you tell me how you've been studying so hard and how well you've done, it just makes me so happy.

You fluttered your eyelashes not believing what you were hearing, your hand trembled and being held still by Seb noticed the slight movement and tilted his head leaving another kiss on your cheek.

—I'm going to get our food." Seb got out of the car, the heat that had formed between his hands slowly subsided but the tingling did not. You felt yourself swallow hard before you threw yourself down on the seat laughing and wiggling your feet, Seb liked it so much that the only thing you wanted at that moment was for him to feel that way too.

                                          ──────────────────

The night in Monaco was quieter than you would think. They had settled near a park, which due to the timetable was closed and they couldn't walk around. Having finished all your food we took the opportunity to rest your legs on Seb's lap with your back against the door. You were telling him about one of the many dramas of your university. Even if he pretended not to, Seb loved drama and even more so if it didn't involve him.

—I swear she rejected him, and he was really angry — you waved your hands dramatising the whole situation.

—That's not very nice," Seb commented. "Obviously being rejected isn't the best experience, but getting angry at the person I doubt it makes it any better.

—Exactly! And then he accused her of taking advantage of him and threw the ice cream on her dress—you paused and slapped your thigh hard—God, an ice cream Seb! If someone really did that to me they wouldn't have any hairs left to pluck.

—That's really awful, but now that you mention it," Seb began, registering your curious stare, "It's time for us to go get some ice cream.

Lowering your legs off his body you both celebrated your successful night with loud music and silly singing, at a traffic light you came to ask him.

—How are you feeling about the weekend," Seb hadn't mentioned the subject all night which surprised you, it's not like he could tell you the team's strategies but he kept a pretty wide berth for the expression of his feelings about racing. Seb scratched the back of his neck and, with his eyes on the road, replied.

—I'm not sure... For some reason everyone seems so interested in winning in Monaco that the fact that it's not so special to me keeps me... Confused.

—Seb... I can assure you that Monaco is not that important, I mean no more than other races," you assured with a confidence that made your boyfriend grimace, "Really, you'll do fine.

—Well, if a Schumacher says so, I guess I'll just have to listen to him," Seb's car got closer and closer to the busy streets of Monaco and as soon as they found a place to park for ice cream they pulled over with smiles already formed from anticipation. Opening the car door, you didn't hold back your comment.

—Of course, the winning instinct is in my blood," you exclaimed, putting your foot on the floor and looking up, and before you could warn him, you grabbed Seb's elbow to pull him into the car and slammed the door abruptly shut, stowing yourself in the safety of the car. Seb, who still didn't understand, screamed.

 You covered his mouth with your palm only to direct your eyes a few metres away from you, where Michael Schumacher was leaving a restaurant with his friends and your brother. You both held your breath.

[acapelladitty]

`♡° kinktober 2024! ---

☆ kink: costume sex

☆ pairing: Year One Scarecrow/Reader

☆ summary: Arriving at a Halloween party to score some drugs for his experiments, Jonathan Crane finds himself in quite the compromising position as he's pulled into a supply closet.

kinktober '24 ☆ main masterlist ☆ ao3

Surveying the gaggle of college students as they drunkenly stumbled around in costumes which bordered on utterly indecent made Crane appreciate that his own college days were much less degrading as he had concentrated his focus on his many studies and interests. The sorority housing was not too dire, a direct yearly contribution from the Wayne Foundation ensuring cheap accommodation for prospective students as they maintained their studies.

It was a luxury he himself was never afforded and one which sparked only a little resentment as he pulled the cheap burlap mask which covered most of his features tighter to his face and slipped within the front door.

Necessity had forced him here, forced him into an illicit meeting with a known drug dealer who lived on campus in order to score some ecstasy for one of his private experiments. The boy in question was not one of his own students but he had an awareness of him from complaints which others had made in their shared staff room.

He had used an alias, of course. He had chosen a name designed to ensure that the young man would never know that he was selling drugs to one of the strictest professors on campus and the additional use of Halloween night as a meet time had been necessary to provide him with an alibi for hiding his identity through the use of a costume.

A cheap and simple Scarecrow costume, purchased from a local store.

The irony was not lost on him.

“Hey! C’mere? I need help.”

As far as his dealings went, his exchange with the boy was painless and he emerged from the upper bedroom with his secured ecstasy in less then two minutes. All that remained was to weave past the throngs of drunkards and then he would be free to return to his office and pick up some last minute papers to take home to his apartment.

His musings were cut short as he found his path blocked by a young woman, her hands splayed wide on her hips to prevent him from walking around her.

Her loud voice attracting the attention of several partygoers, Crane scowled beneath his mask as he found himself forced into helping her to avoid further attention. She was dressed as a devil; the majority of her costume being limited to a sheer and very short red gown which was hemmed with cheap feathers. Red thigh-high tights and devil horns completed the ensemble and, despite himself, Crane felt a twinge of arousal at her state of dress.

A fuller figure than many of the other girls who flittered about in various states of undress, her ample chest filled the gown beautifully and he couldn’t help but glance down at it, the skin there looking soft and warm to the touch.

Grabbing at his hand, he allowed her to lead him through the corridor until they reached a door. Pushing it open, she revealed a fairly small laundry closet which housed two sets of shelves which were filled with various towels and replacement beddings – the space between the shelves only enough to house maybe two people as they folded and ordered the items within.

Only now truly realising the situation he had allowed himself to be placed in as her intentions hit him like a truck, Jonathan felt a swell of panic in his chest – the feeling so unfamiliar that it also sparked cold embarrassment that he was thankful for his mask to hide it away.

Shutting the door behind them quietly as Jonathan gazed at the bare, hanging lightbulb which sat perfectly at his eye level, the girl giggled quietly as she turned in place with her back to the door.

“You’re very tall. I like that,” she muttered, reaching her hand out to place it on his chest and glance up at him with fluttering eyelashes.

“I am.” Jonathan replied, a little pathetically as his panicking mind couldn’t think of something more interesting to say. Glancing at the door behind her, he could see his escape as clear as day and the ecstasy which sat in his back pocket felt as though it was burning against his skin as he plotted out how to leave without drawing more attention to himself.

“I really like that. When I saw you walking past in this silly costume I couldn’t help but want to drag you away and see if it’s true what they say about tall guys.”

Bold as brass, her fingers dropped to his thighs and massaged the fabric there – her chest jiggling with deliberate intent as she pawed at him.

Concealing his voice as best he could as he added an unfamiliar lilt to his words, Jonathan splayed his fingers on her upper chest as he ignored the definite twitch of his dick at her boldness and kept her at a safe distance.

“I am old enough to be your father.”

“Are you?” She purred, placing one of her hands atop his own as she stroked along his fingers, “That’s kinda hot, mystery man. Maybe you could show a poor little girl like me the ropes then, huh? You must have lots of experience.”

She couldn’t have been out of her early twenties, less than half of his age.

He was not a man of impulse.

He was a man of reason and careful consideration.

But as her other hand slipped higher to ghost along his half-hard cock with a firm determination, her expression wicked in its innocence as she glanced up at him and pressed her chest to his own, Jonathan supposed that a little holiday indulgence wouldn’t kill him.

Bolstered by his anonymity, Jonathan slipped his hands within the cups of her costume and pulled her tits free to hang in the warm air. She gasped at the feel of his cold fingers and responded immediately as her hands slipped higher to pull at the waistband of his slacks, unzipping them and pulling his cock free with a giggle.

“Wow, you really are older than me.”

Glancing down through the holes in his mask, a slight irritation at her words flushed through his chest and he responded by pushing at her shoulders roughly – forcing her to drop to her knees and work at his cock. A task which she took to with immediate enthusiasm as she wrapped her lips around his cockhead, her tongue warm and so deliciously wet that his hands gripped into a nearby shelf as he fought the urge to fuck himself into her mouth.

Jonathan groaned as he leaned against the shelf, enough to allow him to crane his neck down and watch her as she sucked him off. With one hand wrapped around his outer thigh to steady herself, her other hand had disappeared between her legs as she pleasured and prepped herself for his cock. A boldness which snatched the breath from his lungs as he pushed into her mouth and tried to steady his breathing.

“Do you want to fuck me?” She asked, her sweet voice a little hoarse from her previous partying.

Wordlessly, he pulled her to her feet and spun her in place, her tits bouncing at the swift movement as he pressed his body against her own. Her chest pushing into the nearby shelving unit, Jonathan slipped one hand beneath the hem of her ‘dress’ and groaned into her neck as his fingers quickly sank themselves into the wet warmth of her cunt.

She had prepped herself well, it seemed.

Panting and grinding her ass into his cock, the bold little devil that had ensnared him mewled something about being ready and Jonathan fisted his hand along his cock – feeling the drying saliva of her messy blowjob – as he lined himself up against her hole. The height difference was impressive and it forced his legs to spread a little wider than he was comfortable with to allow him to line up correctly before slamming his hips against her ass.

He greeted her with a quick, brutal intrusion and he growled as she buried her pleasurable scream into the flesh of her forearm – her cunt wrapping around his cock like a glove. Almost painfully tight, but so fucking good that he momentarily lost himself in just how nice she felt.

It was a mess of a fuck. The tiny closet leaving no room for anything outside of sloppy thrusts which she seems to appreciate as her theatrical grunts and moans spur him on to fuck her with a greater ferocity, the adrenaline of the encounter giving him a stamina that he didn’t want to waste.

She was just as enthusiastic in her movements; her plump body pushing back on him in such a way that he found himself having to slam one hand against the nearby door to steady himself as his other hand wrapped around her waist to pull her against him. Her nails dug into the back of his hand and he hissed as she pulled his hand free to instead drag it up to her chest – forcing him to delve his fingers within the cup of her gown and squeeze at her breast.

Her warmth and the way that her soft skin filled his hand made him groan and he picked up the pace of his sloppy thrusts as he adjusted his fingers enough to pinch at her hardened nubs. A move that made her keen out something messy as her walls squeezed his cock in kind.

His release caught him a little by surprise, the franticness of their movements making his balls tighten and his cock jerk in warning as he quickly pulled free of her cunt – instead plastering her ass with his release as he grunted like an animal and his knees shook dangerously. Groaning in disappointment, his little devil didn’t hesitate to grind her ass into his cock, encouraging him to keep going.

“I’m close, c’mon guy, just a little more-”

Catching his breath, Jonathan complied with her wishes and slipped his free hand up between her thighs as he jerkily shoved two fingers within her dripping cunt; his arm angled in such a way that he left his thumb free to press against her clit and get her to her own release. Again, given how wet her cunt already was, he wasn’t too surprised when her little moans increased in pitch and her slit ground hard against his hand as she came.

Not bothering to hide her whimpered cries, a slight worry entered Jonathan’s mind as he imagined some passerby overhearing her and so he tilted her body slightly further away from the door – allowing her to ride out her high on his hand as he fumbled with tucking away his own cock.

Both satisfied, they collectively took a moment to compose themselves as the scent of sex and cheap perfume hung heavy in the air between them. Still a little shell-shocked from how his evening had developed, Jonathan allowed her a gentlemanly moment to right herself and her outfit as he patiently awaited for her to make the first move.

“That was great.” She giggled with a very flushed expression, her hands pulling free a nearby cloth to wipe the mess from between her thighs. Using a shelf to steady her body, she gathered her mess and wrapped the cloth carefully to be dropped in the nearest bin. “So, can I see the face of my mystery man?” She asked, her hand creeping towards his mask.

Panic seizing him once more at the thought of the scandal his identity would spark, Jonathan snatched her wrist in a firm grip as he lowered her hand back to her side, “Some things are better left a mystery, little devil.”

“Little devil? That’s also kinda hot. You sure I can’t have your number, baby?”

Baby.

Absolutely not.

“No.”

“Oh, well,” she shrugged, adjusting her devil horns as she smoothed out the front of her costume, “I guess I’ll catch you later then.”

And with that she tugged the door to the closet open, allowing the rancid beat of whatever hellish music they had moved on to playing to pulse within, before slamming the door shut behind her and disappearing just as quickly as she had appeared.

Left alone, his cock soft and sated and the shame of his weakness creeping into the cracks of his psyche, Jonathan stood with his hands on his hips as he took a moment to process what the hell had just happened.

[artiststarme]

After the events of Spring Break and long before either of them even consider dating, Steve and Eddie become friends. Eddie shares his weed and buys them alcohol, Steve provides food and a place for Wayne and Eddie to crash for awhile, and Robin kind of freeloads on everything (although she considers her witty one-liners and company payment enough). Even still though, it takes more than just friendship to force Steve to join a DnD campaign. 

With the departure of Grant, Jeff, and Gareth from the Hellfire club, the Party is woefully short on manpower. Will joins and Eleven tries too but even with the addition of their two characters, the Party isn’t strong enough to survive Eddie’s devious campaigns. So they target Steve. Between Eddie’s pleading puppy dog eyes and the endless pestering of the kids, Steve joins. Initially, he’s hesitant. He thinks he’s only going to play a handful of games to get the kids back on their feet before parting with them. But then he discovers that he’s good at it. He discovers that he enjoys flirting with the NPCs and annoying the shit out of his fellow characters. He likes saving the kids and watching their backs in fights all too reminiscent of the Upside Down. It makes him feel useful, needed, wanted. 

Most of all though, he likes seeing how his words affect Eddie. He starts looking forward to  seeing the blank look on Eddie’s face when he does something he’s not expecting, forcing Eddie to dive into the very depths of his imagination. Steve likes seeing Eddie’s lips quirk into a smirk when his flirts land their mark. He imagines kissing the quirk away until those very same lips are bruised red with burst capillaries. He wants to see Eddie’s smile directed at him for every moment of everyday, not just from behind the Dungeon Master’s partition or on a dinner date with Robin. Steve wants to hear Eddie’s husky voice explain his plans for DnD while they cuddle in bed hiding from the cold Indiana winter (although he would never admit something so nerdy to anyone). His thoughts and Eddie’s reactions to his admittedly mediocre flirting only makes Steve like playing DnD with him more. 

He especially enjoys the day when all the flirting finally leads Eddie to corner him once the kids leave to ask him out on a proper date (or in their case, Cheetos and strawberry milkshakes on the roof of Eddie’s van while watching snowflakes fall from frozen clouds). In hindsight, it only made him wish he’d joined the nerdy dragon club sooner. Maybe then he could’ve been kissing Eddie Munson for years by then. Steve guesses he’d just have to keep Eddie around for years to come.

[tofumiarchives]

┊RED LINER┊˚✧

┊ONE SHOT┊MICHAEL KAISER X GN!READER┊

words: 596

unrequested

additional/warnings: ooc(?), cringe, swearing, lots of bickering, Kaiser

erm I think I like Kaiser

I'll work on my blog soon trust (me when I lie)

Sometimes, you really want to throw Kaiser across the room.

“You’re doing it wrong,” his words made you want to mess up on purpose, just so you could hopefully aggravate and annoy the star striker in front of you. 

“Shut up, Kaiser. Stay still,” you murmur under your breath, focusing on the task at hand. You suggested doing the eyeliner shit he regularly wears, all because you were bored without anything to do. Kaiser's reaction? Be an uncooperative ass, even when you offered so graciously to do something for him.

Red ink smoothly flowed out of the eyeliner as you carefully filled in the line. The blond had his eyes closed, head tilted up by your hand while you sat on the surface of the sink's counter. Kaiser didn't know what possessed him to let you do this, but to be honest, he'd let you do whatever if it serves him— as he thinks. It's not an excuse, because that's just pathetic.

You finished the second wing, leaning back to see if it looked even and good enough. Kaiser didn't miss that chance to tilt his head, looking at his reflection in the mirror. And, of course, he had to point out the flaws. “It’s not even,” he points out, stating the not very obvious.

The way you were holding back the urge to smack him in the head should be awarded. “What do you mean? It is. You should get your eyes checked,” you retorted, watching him scrunch up his face and look at you like you just ruined his face. He seemed to always do that. You could almost say he resembled some grumpy cat with the way his expressions look.

“You get your eyes checked,” Kaiser rolled his eyes. “Mine are perfectly alright. Meanwhile, you seem to not notice the minor details. You're really shitty at this,” he complained. Suddenly, you get the urge to remove the translator device in your ear, just so you could stop having to understand his ranting. Maybe you should. Hopefully it irks him.

You gave him a look. It was something between ‘I-regret-doing-this-for-you’ and ‘stop-complaining-you-bastard’. There was a click when you capped the liner, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls of the bathroom, filling up the small glimpse of silence after he spoke. “You know, maybe I should've messed up your liner on purpose.”

“Wow,” he replied, taking the red eyeliner back from you. “What, are you that mad you're bad at this? And, to be honest, I can pull off even your shitty, uneven attempts at doing eyeliner,” there he goes again, always preening like a damn peacock. Shit always flaunts whenever he can get to do so. What makes it worse is that he's actually attractive. 

That's it. You take off the translator provided by Mikage corps, placing the jet black bud on the marble counter. Kaiser raised an eyebrow, picking up on what you just did. Ah, the peace of being able to ignore him. He was frowning. Cute. You should mess with him some more from now on.

“Arschloch,” Kaiser curses you out, while you're blissfully ignoring what he's saying. This is so fun. You can choose not to understand a single shit he's saying right now! 

You point a finger at your ear, not being able to hide the grin etching into your face. “I can't understand you,” you point out, getting an ounce of satisfaction when he rolled his eyes. 

You’re starting to think you should mess around with him even more.

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[weirdsht]

Helloooo! What if cale has a child that's already few years old, addition to On, Hong and Raon. However, others didn't know that. How will they react to that information?

Miscellaneous Information - Cale & Daughter! Reader

tags: female reader, platonic, reader is 3-years-old, reader is smart, but still has the pronunciation of a baby, reader calls cale "appa", nothing just fluff

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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If there’s one thing Birth of a Hero is good at, it’s giving out unnecessary family information that seems to have no relevance to the plot. One example would be Harol Kodiang actually being born out of love despite him not knowing it. Another would be Witira having a half-whale brother that died before the protagonist could meet the whale tribe.

Kim Rok Soo may not know why such irrelevant pieces of information littered the novel. However, he is grateful for it when he wakes up in Cale Henituse’s body. If it weren’t for it he wouldn’t know about the lout’s hidden daughter.

[Name] Henituse, Cale’s 3-year-old daughter, is something the novel describes as a genius. Her intellect is advanced for her age, she can already speak almost full sentences and can understand concepts normal children her age would not be able to.

It is said that she got her intellect from her father. Usually, Kim Rok Soo would doubt it since Cale was a lout. However, seeing that the drunkard managed to hide the girl under his parent’s noses then he must be pretty smart.

He did it by anonymously hiring servants in the small townhouse he has in the Rain City. The house being named after some make-up merchant.

But it’s not like Kim Rok Soo cared much for the details of how the lout did it. All he knows is that he needs to somehow meet that child for it is now his responsibility. The girl has no one else other than Cale. Her mother died during childbirth and there isn’t any information about her. It isn’t even known if Cale loved her or not.

In other words, it’s up to Kim Rok Soo to take care of that child.

“Appa, you isn’t suppose to be here.”

Red hair that was the same shade as his own greeted him on the day he finally managed to visit the townhouse. [Name] hugged him upon arrival, clearly happy to see him despite saying he wasn’t supposed to be in that place. He admits that his super late in visiting her. However, in his defence, it’s hard to sneak off where the girl lived when the novel didn’t provide the information of how Cale did it before. He only managed to go to the townhouse when he got home after obtaining the Sound of the Wind. 

The girl might be saying he shouldn’t be there but it’s obvious that she welcomes his presence. Her saying it came from a place of concern. She’s smart and understands well that her dad is hiding her. It didn’t seem like she detested him for that though.

“Why is that?”

The novel didn’t really specify why [Name] was hidden. But it did that if she were to be revealed Cale’s parents would’ve accepted her with open arms.

‘He already branded himself as the family disappointment. Why draw the line here?’

Was what Cale thought to himself as he awaited his daughter's answer.

“Silly appa! You fowgot already! It’s because of inwe… inhe… inhewitansus ishwues.”

Cale waited patiently as the toddler tried to pronounce inheritance.

“Inheritance issues? But the Henituse has enough money for one more person?”

“Nu! Not that!”

[Name] slapped her small, chubby hands on Cale’s leg, simultaneously trying to prove a point and asking her dad to pick her up. Cale obliged and carried the girl as they made their way to her room.

“Unkel Bassen!”

“Ah, we don’t want Bassen to have a hard time inheriting the county?”

“Yep! Unkel Bassen is good. You said so! So we want to give him count.”

Everything started to make sense in Cale’s head at the same time they reached the girl’s room. Revealing [Name] would make everyone pity her against Basen. They would say things along the lines of making a child whose mother is of unknown origins who is sure to have the Henituse blood is better suited to be the heir compared to a son who has no ounce of Henituse blood.

However, Cale can’t hide this poor child forever. She has the right to get to know her family and not just live in this simple yet luxurious house.

Plus, if Cale is going to take her with him to Harris Village then an introduction is inevitable.

Creeaaaaaaak

“Kitty! Appa kitty!”

The redhead was startled upon seeing two kittens sitting on [Name]’s light pink couch. There’s a space in between them and Cale is sure it’s because the black dragon is situated there.

“What are you doing here? It’s alright for all of you to be yourselves here, I own the place.”

Cale set his daughter down who then ran to sit on the couch that’s opposite to where the On, Hong, and the now visible black dragon are.

“Dragon! Appa you have a dragon?”

[Name] respectfully kept her distance from the three and sat quietly on the couch. However, anyone looking at her can tell that she wants to pet them.

“We were worried about you nya!”

“You suddenly went outside without telling anyone nya!”

“This great and mighty being wanted to see more of our city but you weren’t there!”

All three children reasoned as they switched from the couch they were sitting on to the couch where [Name] was. They haven’t had any proper introductions yet the four children are already snuggling against each other.

“I went to visit my daughter.”

Cale said nonchalantly as he sat where the three children were sitting before. The three froze at the news. Sure [Name] has the same hair colour as Cale but they haven’t heard anything about him having a biological child!

“Her name is [Name] Henituse. Well, technically she’s not in the family registry so she’s not a Henituse yet but we’re working on that.”

“You’re the human’s child? How come we’ve never heard of you?”

“I’m hidden! A mystery!”

[Name] exclaimed proudly. In her mind, while she knows to some extent being hidden is bad, she takes a lot of pride in doing it for an uncle her dad clearly treasures.

“No one knows of her existence yet. I plan on introducing her to my parents tomorrow.”

Now it was [Name]’s turn to be frozen.

“Me? Intwoduce? But… But… unkel…”

How about Uncle Basen?

Was what she wanted to say but her tears and limited vocabulary prevented her from doing so. She may be smart but she didn’t have many people to talk to, hindering the advancement of her vocabulary. However, her current level of speaking is already great enough considering she’s barely 3-years-old.

“It’ll be fine. Only our family will know so Basen should be fine.”

With Cale currently being renowned as ‘Young Master Silver Shield’ and the upcoming war, revealing he has a child right now would be bad. It would only garner unwanted attention and could put the poor child in danger.

After further introductions, all the children got along swimmingly. The night ended with all five of them sleeping on [Name]’s bed.

The next day the Henituse castle was turned upside-down.

“A child? You’ve been hiding a child from us for 3 years!?”

Deruth couldn’t keep his emotions in check as he looked at the small girl in his son’s arms.

“It happened to be that way.”

Cale could see his father pinch the bridge of his nose, stressed about the entire situation. The redhead can understand, a baby all of a sudden can be quite stressful.

“Why did you not inform us until now?”

Violan inquired after ordering the servants to prepare the necessary measures needed to accommodate a child. Such as tailors, carpenters, tutors, and so on.

“At first I wanted for the child to live a quiet life, but since the war is practically confirmed…”

The safest place for this child would be under the watchful eye of the Henituse family. It also doesn’t help that Cale will be gone often until he can get his slacker life. As much as he’d want to take [Name] with him, he knows he’d be putting the child’s life in danger. Unlike the other kids, his daughter doesn’t have any special abilities. Sure she’s smart, but it won’t do anything against enemies that would like to take her life.

Cale explains [Name]’s background to his parents. Tells them about how she has no one else aside from him. He also promised them that he’d take care of her himself. Cale just needed for them to know of her existence in case something happened.

Of course, his parents took it the wrong way even though Cale just meant that it was in case he came home later than expected.

“Don’t say such nonsense. We are the child’s grandparents. We’d take care of her whenever you are gone.”

Violan waved her hands to emphasise how it was no big deal.

“Ganpawents..?”

“Yes dear, I’m your grandpa.”

The count greeted warmly as he took [Name] into his arms.

“Ganpa!”

And so the family introduction started.

First was Cale’s parents of course. Who insisted on being called grandma and grandpa. They were already spoiling the girl and it hadn’t been an hour since she was introduced.

Next was the siblings. Both of them were flabbergasted at the news but seemed to be welcoming towards the child.

“Unkel Basen!”

Basen in particular seemed to blush whenever he called uncle.

And then finally it was time to meet Cale’s people.

“This is Beacrox, he cooks delicious food.”

“Beerox..?”

“Close enough, I’m sure you’ll get it right with time.”

“Beerox!”

The chef has his usual poker face on but people who know him can tell that his close to having another headache. Cale already made him take care of 10 wolf children, and now he has a daughter on top of it…

Of course, Beacrox didn’t say anything and just continued cooking. He’ll let his father do the passive-aggressive scolding once he comes back.

“All this time–! Our young master silver shield– he–! He has a child!?”

“Oh my, the new young master looks cute. This deputy butler Hans will surely take good care of you!”

“Appa this people weird.”

The 3-year-old complained as she buried her face on Cale’s shoulder.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Cale had no explanation as to why the servants that followed him acted in such ways. So he could only assure his child that she’ll get used to it as time passes.

…Well at least he hopes that would be the case.

Bonus:

“Let’s hurry, you need to get well fast. [Name] is excited to meet you.”

Ron glanced at Cale with a confused glance. He does not know who that is. Deruth made sure they wouldn’t cross paths for such a bloody scene would be traumatizing for the baby.

“My daughter.”

Cale did not say anything else and merely stepped out of the room to prepare for their departure towards Hais Islands.

Meanwhile, Ron’s pain was overcome by confusion for a moment.

“He has a child?”

The assassin asked his son.

“Apparently so. She’s currently 3-years-old.”

“Ho?”

Now Ron definitely has to survive. He needs to meet his puppy young master’s puppy.

Maybe even scold the redhead a bit for hiding such a thing from the man who changed his diapers for so long.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Milunka Savić, the Most Decorated Female Combatant in History: Savić disguised herself as a man in order to join the Serbian army during the Balkan Wars, then served again during WWI, earning medals from Serbia, France, Russia & Britain; she also provided medical support to anti-fascists during WWII and spent 10 months in a Nazi concentration camp

This is a total rewrite of a post that I did last year, with much more detailed information, more photos, and some additional sources.

Milunka Savić is regarded as the most decorated female combatant in history. She fought for the Serbian Army during both of the Balkan Wars, before returning to the battlefield again during WWI. Savić was wounded in battle on 9 separate occasions and survived the Serbian Great Retreat, making the perilous journey across the mountains of Montenegro and Albania through the dead of winter with a serious head injury.

Her military career began during the First Balkan War in 1912, when her younger brother was called up to serve in the Serbian army, and she decided that she would covertly take his place. She cut her hair, wore men's clothing, and presented herself as her brother.

The First Balkan War, 1912: Milunka Savić as a young soldier during the First Balkan War, shortly after joining the Serbian army

She was able to hide her true identity for quite some time. Her skills as a soldier quickly became evident as the war progressed, and she earned her first medal/promotion during the Battle of Bregalnica in 1913. Unfortunately, she was hit by shrapnel from a Bulgarian grenade during her tenth deployment, causing injuries to her chest and abdomen, and those wounds (along with the subsequent medical treatment) ultimately led to the discovery that she had lied about her identity.

In recognition of her accomplishments on the battlefield, her commanding officer decided not to punish her for the initial deception, but informed her that she would not be allowed to return to combat -- as a woman, she could only be transferred to the nursing division instead.

As the story goes:

Savić was called before her commanding officer. They didn't want to punish her, because she had proven a valuable and highly competent soldier, and the military deployment that had resulted in her [sex] being revealed had been her tenth; but neither was it suitable for a young woman to serve in combat. She was offered a transfer to the Nursing division. Savić stood at attention and insisted that she only wanted to fight for her country as a combatant.

The officer said he'd think it over and give her his answer the next day. Still standing at attention, Savić responded, "I will wait." It is said he only made her stand an hour before agreeing to send her back to the infantry.

Savić was able to serve in a combat role throughout the remainder of the Balkan Wars.

The Second Balkan War finally came to an end in 1913, but that peace was short-lived, as World War I erupted just a year later. Savić returned to the military once more, serving in the elite "Iron Regiment" of the Serbian army.

World War I, c.1915-1916: Savić was no longer forced to hide her identity when she returned to battle during WWI, and these images show her posing in uniform with her hair grown out

Savić received the Serbian Karađorđe Star with Swords medal on two separate occasions during WWI; the second medal was given to her after the Battle of Crna Bend in 1916, where she was credited with single-handedly capturing 23 Bulgarian soldiers. She received several other medals throughout the course of her career, including the French Legion of Honor (twice), the French Croix de Guerre, the Russian Cross of St. George, the British Medal of the Most Distinguished Order of St. Michael, and the Serbian Miloš Obilić.

WWI, c.1915-1916: Milunka Savić as a Corporal in the Iron Regiment

She suffered a serious head injury while fighting along the Macedonian front, and she was still gravely wounded when Austro-Hungarian, German, and Bulgarian forces gained control of Serbia in the winter of 1915. The Serbian army was then ordered to make a full retreat from Serbia; Savić and her fellow soldiers, along with the Serbian government and more than 200,000 civilians, were all forced to flee through the mountains of Montenegro and Albania in the dead of winter, hoping to reach Allied forces along the Adriatic Coast -- a perilous journey that would later be known as the Serbian Great Retreat (or the Albanian Golgotha). Roughly 400,000 people embarked on this journey, and less than 180,000 of them survived, eventually reaching the Allied ships along the Adriatic coast.

Despite her injuries, Milunka Savić was among the survivors. She was sent to an infirmary, where she spent several months recovering from her injuries, before she returned to the battlefield alongside Allied forces.

At the end of the war, the French government offered to provide Savić with a full pension and living accommodations in France, in recognition of her actions while serving alongside the French military during WWI. She ultimately declined the offer and chose to retire back in Serbia instead, where she and her husband settled down to raise their daughter and three other girls that Milunka had adopted. The couple would later separate, however, and Milunka was left to raise her children as a single mother, working at a local bank to make ends meet.

In 1941, Serbia (which was then part of Yugoslavia) fell under Nazi occupation. During this period, Savić was involved in providing medical support to local partisans and anti-fascists who had resisted the Nazi occupation. She was eventually arrested by German officers; there are differing accounts of the events leading up to her arrest, with some sources suggesting that she was arrested as a result of her involvement with the local partisans and other anti-fascist elements, while other sources claim that she was arrested after she offended several Nazi officials by openly refusing to attend a formal banquet that was being held in honor of the German military campaign. In any case, she was imprisoned at the infamous Baljinca Concentration Camp for ten months before finally being released.

She faced other forms of hardship in the aftermath of WWII, as she struggled to support herself and her children. She worked several low-paying jobs over the years, while living in a dilapidated, decaying house in Belgrade. Her name (and her long list of accomplishments) had largely faded into obscurity by then.

Serbia, 1972: Milunka Savić proudly displaying some of her medals in 1972, when her story became more widely known

It wasn't until the early 1970s that her involvement with the military finally began to receive more widespread attention, both in Serbia and abroad. Following the 1972 publication of an article that told her story, her local community in Belgrade quickly rallied to provide her with newer, more suitable living arrangements.

Sadly, she passed away within just a year of the article's publication.

In 2013, Milunka Savić's remains were relocated from the small mausoleum where they had been interred since 1973, and she was reburied in Belgrade's "Alley of the Greats," where some of the most well-known and most widely respected Serbians are laid to rest.

Sources & More Info:

Research Gate: Milunka Savić: the Forgotten Heroine of Serbia

Girl Museum: Milunka Savić

Law and Politics: The Position of Women in the Serbian Army

Medium: The Fearless Woman-Bomber Who Died Proud, Broke, and Forgotten

Wikipedia: Milunka Savić

Mental Floss: The Serbian "Great Retreat" Begins (WWI Centennial)

[jeonstellate]

currently writing the fic for this idea prompt, and i’m highkey pissed i can’t fit these in:

(won’t provide additional context, except that peter is six who kinda acts a little younger because . . . reasons.)

“Happy birthday, Alfred!” Peter flashes a smile that gets everyone, sans Jason, in the room stilling. They know that smile. “Here’s Uncle Jay’s gift for you!”

“It’s from all of us Outlaws,” Jason corrects while his nephew hands over the wrapped box to the Wayne family butler. “And Peter and Lian.”

Before Alfred, or anyone else, can say anything, Peter deems it important to throw his uncle under the bus right there and then. “Auntie Artemis said Uncle Jay accidentally left it at home because he forgot to set an alarm.”

Some can’t help but chuckle with amusement. Children really don’t have well-installed filters. “For shame, Jason,” Steph chastises playfully.

Peter notices the cakes on the table and leans forward dangerously without any warning. Had Jason’s reaction time been any slower, the former would’ve surely face-planted onto the cakes below.

“Careful, buddy,” he says after jerking his nephew closer to his chest and further from the table. He almost sighs in relief upon averting a crisis (read: Kori’s disappointment). “You don’t need to be that close to look.”

Peter doesn’t pay him any mind, green eyes never leaving the desserts that have captured his attention. “Is this one for you, Uncle Jay?” He inquires after a moment, pointing at the cake with Happy Birthday, Jason! elegantly written on top.

“Yeah.”

Peter hums a note that doesn’t sound impressed. “I like the one me and Lian decorated better.”

Jason doesn’t know how else to react to that besides avoid looking at Alfred, who baked and decorated the cake his nephew doesn’t seem to approve of. Everyone else is too stunned to move.

Jason follows what caught Peter’s attention on the ceiling. His eyes land on the unsuspecting chandelier.

“No, Peter,” he shuts down the idea barely brewing in his nephew’s head. “You can’t swing on the chandelier.”

“Aw.”

Somewhere in the room, Duke can’t believe his ears. “That’s hereditary? How the—”

Peter fixes him a stare. Eyes slightly widened, bottom lip slightly pushed out. He wisely averts his eyes. “Don’t give me that look. Artemis will have my head. And that’s if your mom doesn’t get to me first.”

“Jaylad, you’re injured. You shouldn’t be carrying—” Bruce starts to say while inching closer to where his third eldest stood.

Jason is quick to react. “Nice try, old man, but I know what you’re trying to do.” He shifts Peter to his other arm, the one that’s further from his adoptive father, and straightens his body even more in an attempt to hide his nephew from the other’s view. “I won’t let you sweep him away.”

“I’m not—” Bruce starts again, but this time stops in middle in his own accord. In a softer voice, he eventually admits, “I just want to hold him.”

Jason doesn’t let up his protective stance. “Peter doesn’t like strangers carrying him.” To strengthen his argument, he turns for back up. “Right, buddy?”

However, much to his utter astonishment, the boy that has been attached to him since he showed up unannounced is no longer where he last saw him mere fifteen seconds ago. Instead, he’s in the arms of the second eldest Wayne child and is now holding a glowstick.

Jason doesn’t even have a clue when the transfer must’ve taken place. He didn’t feel his nephew detach while his eyes were locked on Bruce.

Cass smiles triumphantly as she rests the child on her hip.

“Uh-huh!” Peter confirms enthusiastically, unaware of — really, uncaring for — how his current position is an unignorable contradiction to what he just agreed to. He waves the glowstick with fervor. “Look, Uncle Jay, I got a baby lightsaber!”

[soapyghostie]

Hey! Can I request Bubba sawyer x reader where the reader is pregnant with bubba’s child and how the family (brothers and grandpa) would react to it and what they’d do (especially if the reader had been in the family for years and all love her very much, in their own ways).

I’ve been working on this request for so long since I had to put it aside for schoolwork. However, I had sometime to finish writing it so I did so I could post it. Hope you enjoy!

Bubba Sawyer

When you first announce your pregnancy to Bubba, his face lights up with excitement and joy. He’s jumping up and down, squealing happily. He’ll give you a big hug too. The hug is not as tight as Bubba’s normal hugs are so as to not hurt the baby. But God! He’s just so excited to become a father to your child! 

Although excited, internally Bubba is hiding his nervousness about becoming a father. He wants to be able to provide for you and y’all’s unborn child, but he worries about his abilities as a parent. If you notice his nervousness through his body language, please reassure him. He needs a lot of reassurance from you that he’ll be a good father to y’all’s child. 

Bubba’s protective instincts will kick in upon learning about the pregnancy. He becomes more vigilant, ensuring your safety within the Sawyer family home. He can’t be by your side 24/7 because he has chores and provides ‘meat’ for the family so he has you stay inside the house throughout the day when victims are around. It is the safest place for you to be. 

Bubba always cherishes quiet moments with you, as it’s often chaotic in the Sawyer household, often placing his hand gently on your stomach to feel the child’s moments. 

Bubba is always at your beck-and-call, getting you whatever you want or need. Snacks? Water? Foot massage? Whatever you ask for Bubba will get it for you! He’ll make sure that you're always comfortable. He grunts and nods conveying his love and concern as his way of making sure you’re alright. 

Drayton sees the pregnancy as an opportunity to expand the Sawyer family and continue the family legacy. He’s eager to welcome another member into the fold and spoils you with his cooking a lot. You gotta feed the baby, even before it’s born, so it becomes big and strong. 

Nubbins is ecstatic about becoming an uncle. He’ll get in your face and bombard you with questions about the baby names and nursery decorations, his enthusiasm is infectious. He’ll even help decorate the baby’s room too!

ChopTop, in his usual eccentric manner, jokes about being your baby’s quirky uncle. He’ll pepper you with offbeat parenting advice, much to you and Bubba’s amusement. Don’t even listen to him. He doesn’t even know what the heck he’s talking about. 

Grandpa Sawyer, though most of the time silent, will offer you quiet words of wisdom and true parenting advice (not any of ChopTop’s bullshit), imparting lessons learned from generations of Sawyers. 

Despite their unconventional lifestyle, the Sawyer family works to create a nurturing environment for you and the unborn child. They all eagerly await the new addition and with their help you and Bubba prepare for parenthood. 

The family loves to shower you with gifts for the baby, each item reflecting each family member's unique personalities and interests. Some of them are “interesting” if I do say so myself. What I mean by that is that you are really questioning about keeping some of the gifts, especially the ones from Nubbins and ChopTop. However, you do get gifts such as handmade toys and small clothes for the baby.  

You and Bubba will bond over the anticipation of parenthood. Y’all discuss a lot about y’all’s hopes and dreams for y’all’s child as y’all lay in bed, drifting off to sleep. Y’all share your dreams about being future parents, envisioning a life filled with love and laughter even though y’all don’t have the best or the brightest life (if you know what I mean since the Sawyers are technically cannibals that are always on the run).

Y’all would also bond over preparing the nursery for the baby’s arrival. You would put up the decorations, since it’s the easiest thing to do, and Bubba will try his best to create a crib. He’s not the best at carpentry, but he knows enough to get by and make a decent and stable one. 

As y’all wait for the baby’s arrival, you and Bubba embark on a new chapter together. Despite the uncertainty of y’all’s circumstances, you both find solace in the bond y’all share and the love that binds y’all together to y’all’s peculiar family.

[nerevarswritingstuff]

Trouble Is a Friend - Chapter 35: Penumbra - Wukong/Reader, Macaque/Reader, Macaque/Wukong/Reader, Macaque/Wukong - LEGO Monkie Kid [Archive of Our Own]

There's a time and a place for everything. Too bad the Fates couldn't care less about that.

Chapter 35 of my fic Trouble Is a Friend is now up! Click on the link above to read the most recent chapter!

New reader? Start here!

If you’d like to support me, consider buying me a coffee!

Rating: Mature (for violence and language)

Characters: Reader, Original Characters, Tang (Monkie Kid), Qi Xiaotian | MK, Zhu Bajie | Pigsy (Monkie Kid), Red Son (Monkie Kid), Tieshan Gongzhu | Princess Iron Fan, Demon Bull King (Monkie Kid), Long Xiaojiao | Mei, Sun Wukong | Monkey King, Liu Er Mihou | Six-eared Macaque, Spider Queen (Monkie Kid), Nezha (Monkie Kid), Erlang Shen (Monkie Kid)

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Reader-Insert, Reader is gender neutral, Reader wears suits and dresses because clothing has no gender, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Polyamory, What love triangle? They have two hands your honor, Emotional Baggage, Magic, Clairvoyance, Not Canon Compliant, I’ve seen canon and have elected to ignore almost all of it, Rated For Violence, I’m not kidding when I say this is a slow burn, We’re turning on the crock pot and letting this cook for the next week, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, //slaps roof of car This fic can fit SO MUCH TRAUMA IN IT, it’s about the hurt… it’s about the comfort AFTER the hurt…

Fic Summary: “Hold on, firecracker. Have you heard this one yet?” You see a gentle sunrise of gold and red as Wukong’s eyes meet yours. His face softened, his other hand touching your arm, his thumb lightly tracing one of the scars. His voice was firm yet soft, grounding yet light as he spoke, “You’re safe.”

…

Oh.

He keeps going, “You’re safe here. You’re safe with Uncle. With MK. With Tang. With all of them. All these years being alone in the dark without a candle to light your way? I can see in the dark, and MK can too now! I’m sure Uncle’s got a match somewhere and all you gotta do is provide the candle.”

He scoots closer, taking both your hands now and keeping your gaze. “You. Are. Safe. Even if shit hits the fan, you will not be alone to pick up all these broken pieces anymore. I’m here. We all are.”

○○○

After years of running from your past and hiding your scars, you find relief in several wandering destinies that are intertwined with your own. And in return, you help two particularly stubborn stone monkeys find their own healing.

[badperson-8]

Butting In (Part 1) Lucifer, Mammon, Levi

Male/AMAB MC finds an intriguing sex toy – a magical fleshlight, which is automatically connected to the body of whoever haunts their sexual fantasies. How will each brother react if MC succumbs to the temptation and uses the device?

amabMC x Lucifer, amabMC x Mammon, amabMC x Levi

3.5k words | NSFW | Porn without plot | gn!pronouns MC | AO3 link

Content Warnings: Dub-con | Anal Sex

Part 2 (Satan, Asmo) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo)

Lucifer

Lucifer sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He’s been sent to the House of Lords on behalf of Lord Diavolo for a brief check of their quarterly financial report. But what should’ve taken him at most two hours, stretched into several-hours torture, due to the incompetence of these noble fools. The accounting department did their best to analyze and categorize all the expenses, but Lords were so utterly incapable of providing any reasonable data in time that the finished report turned out to be an incoherent mess.

So now Lucifer is stuck in a place full of insufferable snobs, damned to do their job instead of them. At least the most excruciating part is over: he had to personally collect all the additional papers from each Lord, and now he only needs to compare the numbers. The demon has already sent all the accountants away; if they didn’t succeed the first time, it’s highly unlikely that they’ll be of any use. Lucifer prefers to work alone anyway.

The only two things that motivate him right now are a huge cup of the strongest coffee ever known to demons and potential revenge. If Lucifer manages to find any traces of financial machinations, Lord Diavolo will take this matter into his own hands. And when he’s on the case, it’s useless to hide behind the high status of a noble. The Future King deals with problems swiftly and mercilessly.

Lucifer smirks, takes a sip of coffee, and focuses on the documents in his hands. The demon occupied the office of one of the Lords after he unceremoniously kicked out the owner. The room has too many golden decorations for Lucifer’s liking, but at least the chair is comfortable enough. The soft rustle of papers and the rhythmical ticking of the clock help him concentrate and ignore intrusive thoughts about one particular human who waits for him at home… Perhaps there are actually three things that motivate Lucifer right now, but his pride will never let him admit it.

A sudden shiver runs along Lucifer’s body, making him twitch and almost spill all the coffee on the documents. The demon immediately lets go of the cup and straightens up, trying to figure out what the hell happened. But Lucifer doesn’t spot anything unusual, only the same ticking of the clock breaks the silence of an empty room.  

The second shiver strikes him just as suddenly. This time it’s stronger, it pierces his mind and makes him grab the edge of the table, looking for support. Lucifer feels the ghost touches on his body, which concentrate on his backside. He unconsciously presses his hips against the seat in an attempt to hide his delicate parts from the unknown intruder. But to no avail. The unstoppable force concentrates on his most vulnerable part of the body, pressing inside and massaging the tensed walls of his entrance.

Lucifer bites his lower lip, trying to contain all the embarrassing noises deep within; a thin stream of blood runs down his chin and lands on one of the documents, staining it and coloring the white pages red. His trembling hand wipes off tiny drops of sweat from his forehead.

The Avatar of Pride is not capable of panicking, as simple as that. He has everything under control, no matter what happens. But now, for the first time in eternity, Lucifer doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and confused; the burning desire to twist the neck of whoever does this to him and the baffling temptation to submit to these new sensations are tearing him apart.

Lucifer chooses the first option, concentrating his magic on the faint traces of the curse that makes him lose control over his body. The demon frowns as he mentally untangles the magical energies and reaches the source of the disturbance.

It’s MC, it’s their life force, their magical energy. Lucifer senses the power of some kind of artifact nearby, but its magic doesn’t look dangerous. The demon sighs, letting his tensed muscles finally relax. He feels an all-consuming relief at the thought of MC being the one who’s behind this. It’s them, they are responsible for all this nonsense. Of course, who else would it be? He should’ve figured it out sooner.  

A gentle pressure on his insides continues, it seems MC doesn’t use the artifact to its full potential yet, preferring to check the toy with their fingers. Lucifer leans back in his chair and spreads his long legs apart. He could fly all the way to the House of Lamentation, confiscate this suspiciously powerful artifact, and lecture them for several hours straight, but…

Lucifer’s line of thought is interrupted by a sudden sensation of some liquid inside him. The demon frowns harder as he feels his cheeks and ears burn with humiliation. He closes his eyes, not to see how his hand unzips his pants and lets out his neglected boner. He doesn’t want to accept this. Lucifer shouldn’t be so agreeable towards the fact that he is being used as a sex toy. Even if it’s MC who does that. Stroking his dick to such foul sensations feels almost like a betrayal of his Pride. He should ignore his urges and…

The touch of a much bigger object feels shocking, no matter how much Lucifer anticipated dreaded the next stage of MC’s curiosity. It feels so much hotter than their fingers; it stretches him open inch by inch without meeting any resistance from Lucifer’s body. He breathes out sharply and tries to stop his hips from trembling. What a disgrace.

Lucifer clenches his fists, stubbornly ignoring his own growing excitement. But despite his efforts, his thighs spread even wider, chasing the feeling of the hot and pulsating flesh, magically conjured to bring Lucifer pleasure. The damn artifact is too good at recreating MC’s dick, too good at imitating all the deep thrusts. The demon can bear this for only so long. He snarls, grabs his dick, and starts stocking it with hungry desperation.

A quiet moan escapes Lucifer’s lips, but he immediately shuts his mouth with his hand, trying to save at least some dignity. The quicker the pushes become, the more difficult it is to contain all the moans. As Lucifer feels MC coming inside him, he bites his hand as hard as possible to muffle the final embarrassing sound. He growls as his fangs pierce his own skin, and his dick finally releases.

It takes him some time to regain his senses. The rhythmical ticking of the clock slowly returns Lucifer to reality. The demon silently stares at the pile of documents, now partially covered not only with his blood but also his sperm. He lifts his trembling hand and snaps his fingers to set the whole pile ablaze.

…They say that after one of the offices in the House of Lords burned down, together with important documents, the whole establishment had to work overtime to restore the lost data. It’s still unknown what exactly happened; some rumors mentioned a black-winged demon flying out of the office’s window in the direction of the House of Lamentation. But the strangest event that surpassed even the fire in one of the core institutions of the Devildom was no doubt the fact that, despite the sudden calamity and overdue financial report, Lucifer was walking around with a huge, bright smile on his face.

Mammon

Mammon is in deep shit. For real this time. He breathes heavily, peeking at five demons from around the corner. He sighs with relief as they march past his hiding spot and lovingly presses a giant bag full of money to his chest.

From Mammon’s perspective, this whole situation is exclusively the fault of these stupid morons. Who the hell keeps their money in cash nowadays?! These idiots were simply begging to rob them. How could Mammon say no? He will use the money better than they ever could anyway. MC was saying something about a new phone…

Mammon quietly swears and squats behind a dumpster, merging with the shadows. One of the demons returned and is now standing uncomfortably close to his hiding spot. Mammon needs to get out of here before they find him. He should make a run for it once the path is clear.

He squats lower, firmly hugging the bag in his hands. And he almost falls on his ass once he feels some kind of movement inside this very ass. Mammon shivers from disgust at the thought that he seems to be infected by damn tapeworms. He knew that a dinner at that shady restaurant was a bad idea. But seriously, how many are there? Or is it one thick-ass worm? It sure feels like it.

Despite his struggles, Mammon does his best to keep an eye on the demon next to him. They seem to have taken a break from the chase and are now simply smoking a cigarette.

Mammon can’t wait for too long, he needs to escape now while he has this chance. It seems he has to use just a little bit of violence. This demon is relaxed and completely unaware of their surroundings; it will be easy to jump them and knock them out within seconds. Gently, of course. Mammon quietly cackles as he slowly approaches the demon, still half-squatting and holding the bag in one hand.

But just as Mammon is ready to commit yet another crime, the fucking worm starts squirming again. The demon quietly moans, then immediately slams his mouth with his hand. The loud slap almost alerts the smoking demon, but they shrug it off.

“Must’ve been the wind.” They mumble, lifting their head and glaring at the stars. The sky is so beautiful today.

Meanwhile, just several feet away from the romantic demon, Mammon is having a mental breakdown. What the hell was that? No, Mammon didn’t just moan thanks to some stupid parasites, it’s a blatant lie. He tosses the bag on the ground and tries to turn his torso backwards to check his butt. It doesn’t help in the slightest since his jeans cover everything, so Mammon can only stare at his ass with disapproval.

His whole body suddenly shivers, making him drop to his knees and close his mouth with a hand once again. He feels something sticky and moist inside. At first, this strange sensation bothered only his asshole, but now it’s spreading deeper, all the way inside…

Mammon blinks away a single tear, trying not to panic. His medical condition is certainly dire, maybe he’s even dying. No, Great Mammon won’t die from some stupid worms, or whatever this is! He’ll find a cure; he just needs to escape first. MC will have to wait for a new phone a little longer, though; it seems that all the money will be spent on Mammon’s medical bills…

A sudden pressure on his asshole sends goosebumps all over Mammon’s body. He has to cover his mouth with his second hand, falling all the way to the ground. He’s now lying on his stomach, trying to regain his senses. Mammon feels something pushing inside him. His legs tremble, losing all their strength. His brain is trying to process everything that is happening but completely gives up once the ass gets attacked by powerful thrusts. Mammon’s erection is pressed uncomfortably to the ground through his jeans. He can’t even change the position, or at least take off his pants, since his body has fully betrayed him. The violent shivers shake Mammon’s body; he spends his last energy keeping his hands close to his mouth. Otherwise, the whole neighborhood will hear his whimpers.

Mammon’s mind is completely shut down, maybe as a way of precaution. At least the poor demon can’t reflect on the whole situation and be terrified of being either hopelessly ill or cursed. He can only focus on deep thrusts that hit his prostate over and over. The only thing that bothers him right now is his dick, still trapped in his jeans. He presses his hips closer to the ground to get at least some friction.

Mammon closes his eyes, breathing heavily into his hands. He’s so close, just a little more…

He’s suddenly being filled with something so hot that it heats up his insides; his ass unconsciously starts to greedily absorb this mysterious substance. Mammon trembles violently as he finally comes all over his pants. His last vocal moans break through the shield of his hands, shattering the surrounding silence.

As Mammon slowly returns to reality, he feels that his ass is now completely fine. He also feels that he is now surrounded by five angry demons who are ready to beat the shit out of him.

…MC is caressing Mammon’s soft hair as the demon complains to them about his rotten luck. He managed to escape in the end, which was a miracle, even with his abilities to run faster than anyone in the Devildom. The demons didn’t succeed in hurting him, but they took all their money back. Mammon doesn’t care that much about the money, though, being much more concerned about the possible disease. And MC just silently pats his hair, gathering their courage to tell Mammon about that one cool thing they found… And how it can actually be responsible for all of today’s misadventures.

Leviathan

Levi is bursting with excitement as he strolls around the comic-con. The amount of merch for all his favorite shows is simply unbelievable; and all the talented cosplayers make him wish he wasn’t such a shut-in otaku. To take a photo with any of them would be like a dream come true, but he’ll reach this major milestone some other time. He already has a huge reason to be proud of himself today.

Few reasons, actually. First of all, he came to this comic-con alone. All alone! Him! That’s right, he doesn’t need to ask Beel or Satan to come with him anymore. He doesn’t need any emotional support to come to this place, full of people… scary strangers… maybe they all think that he’s gross… or he smells bad…

Levi shakes his head, using his personal method of overcoming such anxiety attacks. All he needs to do is imagine MC, who holds him by the hand and smiles brightly at him. Yeah, that’s better. They always do this when he’s about to panic. Levi can’t give up, he promised that he’d have fun on his own.

The demon sighs, wishing MC was here with him. Lucifer forbade them to leave the house after they broke something when they were fooling around with Mammon. Levi frowns: this greedy scumbag always finds a way to mess with him, and now Levi has to spend the day all alone. Mammon ruined their date, and…

No-no-no-no, it wasn’t supposed to be a date, alright?! It WASN’T! Levi just offered MC to come with him, that’s all. He didn’t actually hope… That would be just silly, right?! Right…

Levi shakes his head once again, adjusting his stockings. Heels are not so bad, but these stockings are constantly trying to fall down. Maybe his legs are too skinny for this…

Hm? Oh yeah, that’s actually the second reason why Levi should be proud of himself. When he finally decided to invite MC on a da-… to hang out, he decided to consult with the professional, namely Asmo. He gave him some strange advices, like not eating too much during the day to avoid getting too dirty down “there”. Levi didn’t know where “there” was exactly, but he didn’t have the courage to ask. Other than that, Asmo had some great ideas: he assured Levi that MC would really appreciate it if he showed them his true passion. Specifically, if Levi put on his Ruri-chan costume, with stockings and all.

This idea got him really inspired; Levi spent several days preparing the costume for the show. So when the da-… the hangout was cancelled, he couldn’t just leave the costume at home. So he quickly made a giant sign “No photos, No touching, No interactions”, and came to the comic-con dressed in his pink dress.

Levi has never been prouder of himself. Despite everything, he paid homage to his favorite character. He wishes MC could see him right now…

“Ngh…” Levi winces, almost dropping his sign to the ground. His thighs firmly press together, slightly shaking from a sudden, unknown sensation between them. The demon blushes heavily and sprints to the bathroom, locking himself in one of the stalls.

He tosses the sign on the floor, lifts his skirt, and tries to inspect the area beneath. Levi did his best to make Ruri-chan’s costume as authentic as possible, which obviously included the right type of underwear. So now the demon carefully gropes his hips, covered with pink silk panties, in search of anything unusual.

His fingers dig into the silky fabric as he feels a strong tremble that concentrates in the area of his butt. He almost tears his underwear with his claws, trying to fight the unexpected weakness in his knees and not fall to the floor.

Levi gathers his strength, reaches the toilet lid, smashes it closed, and lands on it, breathing heavily. He would have never thought that it would be so hard to do such mundane actions, but he feels exhaustion after this little feat. He’s so confused by the riot of his own body that he doesn’t know what to think. Levi feels something slowly pushing inside, stretching him carefully. The only thing that prevents him from starting to seriously freak out is the fact that this unknown force immediately finds his weak spot.

The demon loudly screeches as something starts applying more pressure to his prostate. His dick already peeks out of the pink panties, leaving wet stains on the underwear and the skirt.

“Excuse me? Are you all right?” Someone knocks at the door of Levi’s stall, making him freeze. He squeezes his skirt in frustration as he shakily replies:

“Y-y-yes.”

That’s the best he can do, but luckily the stranger finds this reply passable and leaves him alone. Levi feels as his butt and asshole get covered in something sticky and warm, and he shivers in terror and anticipation. Wait, “anticipation”? No, Levi doesn’t enjoy this insane situation, not at all!

But self-reflection can wait. If the pushes renew, his voice will betray him again. And if this happens, the whole comic-con will hear him, and he certainly can’t let this happen! Levi needs to find something to block all the sounds ASAP. He looks around, trying to find something useful, but there aren’t many things in toilet stalls. Maybe something on him… Oh!

A genius idea graciously visits him. One of the main pieces of Ruri-chan’s clothing is, no doubt, her cute pink hat. Levi mentally apologizes to Ruri-chan for using her iconic hat in that way, takes it off, and shoves it in his mouth.

Just in time for a new stage of thrusts to start. This time they are much more intense. Levi feels how his fangs tear the soft fabric of his precious hat. But his idea mostly works: all his moans and whines are muffled, they are just quiet enough not to alert other people. He grabs his skirt, panties, his own thighs – anything other than his dick. Levi doesn’t want to do it like this. Not in the toilet stall, surrounded by strangers. Not in the Ruri-chan’s dress. Not without MC…

Levi slightly relaxes as his thoughts concentrate on MC. If he imagines that it’s them who inserts their dick inside him, he’ll manage to get through it. His brain successfully tricks itself, almost actually making him believe that it’s MC who is behind this cruel joke. If it’s them, it’s all right, Levi thinks, and allows himself to touch his neglected cock.

He strokes it desperately, focusing on his vivid fantasy of MC. His hole starts pulsating eagerly as he dives into his imagination. Whatever is on the other side must’ve felt how welcoming his hole became; the thrusts get faster and harder, almost making Levi fall from the toilet seat to the floor. He quickens the pace of his strokes to match the impatient pushes, squeezing the hat in his mouth with all his might.

He comes the moment he feels the hot release of an unknown entity inside him. Colorful circles flood his vision, leaving him completely strengthless. He tries to catch his breath, lazily thinking about the ruined costume, especially the pink panties he accidentally tore up. Now he needs to somehow clean up and hurry home, seeking refuge in MC’s arms. He’ll never go to any event without them again.

Part 2 (Satan, Asmo) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo)

P.S. The art doesn't belong to me, it's an official art from Shall We Date: Obey Me! (You, Me and Devil's Coast card)

[noirandchocolate]

It's the winner of my poll, so I hope you'll enjoy a nice big post about...

Yiga Clan Mask Culture and Traditions Headcanons!

History

The Clan adopted the practice of wearing masks fairly early on after their founding 10,000 years ago. Veils were already worn by powerful Sheikah monks as a symbol of martial prowess (being able to fight with hampered or absent sight), wisdom (being able to "see" what others could not, despite or because of a self-imposed "blindness"), and asceticism (being humble and near-anonymous). Those among the ancient Sheikah who worked as assassins, spies, guardians, and interrogators for the Crown also tended to wear masks covering at least part of the face. So, when the Sheikah who decided to defy the ancient King's genocide banded together to form the Yiga Clan, taking to wearing masks and veils to obscure their identities was a natural choice. The early Clan's face-coverings were among the first items they painted with the Inverted Eye that became the symbol of the group's defiance of their prior role as Hylia's chosen protectors and servants of the royal family.

The original Master Kohga, who had been the Chief of the Sheikah settlements around Satori Mountain, never actually wore a mask! (The practice of doing so had not fully standardized yet.) Instead, he took up wearing a veil to honor his grandfather, Monk Mogg Latan, and as a sign to those who would ask him and his people to shed their heritage, that he would not back down.

However, the First Master did provide the origin to one aspect of his successors' masks: While Sheikah who were considered masters in their chosen fields (including monks) traditionally wore a hairstyle featuring five long ornamental sticks, the First Master chose to wear six, as a symbol of a) his people's split from the Royal Family (cut an arrayed set of five sticks straight in half and you end up with six sticks--the formerly central one broken down the middle), and b) their continued claim to the power associated with the number three (note that the Sheikah monks found in Shrines (and Maz Koshia) all wear/display six golden bracelets). As you know, the current Master mask now features three horns on each side!

As time went on, in addition to providing protection and anonymity to Clan members particularly when traveling outside their main "hideout" base in Karusa Valley, the masks also became a unifying aspect of membership and family within the group. In other words, the masks are not only meant to hide one's face from outsiders, but to signal to insiders the bond between them. All within the Clan may don the mask, all may wear the same "face." All carry the symbol of the Inverted Eye. All are working together, all are playing their part. The Clan as a whole is quite a collectivist culture; the masks are one very obvious aspect of that.

The current mask designs have been in place for several millennia now, but it did take some time for the style to "settle" into this level of tradition and immutability. The Yiga have quite ancient scrolls and artworks depicting their ancestors wearing different styles of masks, including curved rectangular ones mimicking the shape of ancient monks' veils, and more complicated and demonic or deity-looking masks for Masters. During one period a few centuries into the Clan's existence, another Hylian monarch (this time, a Queen) sent troops across the kingdom to search for any remaining Sheikah (remember, Kakariko Village was "hidden" to most) to eradicate them. The Yiga began to appear "out of nowhere" to wreak havoc and sow discord among scouts and military camps, wearing masks painted with the inverted eye and large, red, smiling mouths. Quite unsettling!

How They're Made and How They Work

Masks are crafted of wood and, in the case only of the Master, an overlay of molduga bone. All those taking up the job of craft-work among the Yiga learn to make masks, but there have always been a few specially trained masters of the art who create masks and associated ornaments for the Master, Right Hand, presumptive Heir, and any spouse (Mistress or Consort) of the Master. These in particular are expected to be perfect, both in their specially-measured fit to the wearer's face and in their symmetry of shape and inlaid, painted design. And so, training to make them goes beyond the ordinary mask-maker's education, involving a great deal of practice but also meditation. A keen eye for detail and steady hands are paramount. These crafting masters are highly regarded, and often take on new names related in some way to their teachers', when they achieve their new position.

Yes, the masks are solid wood. Yiga are able to see "through" them using magic. The vast majority of current Clan members share a heritage that allows them to use magic (a subject for another post!) at least to some degree, and this Sight skill is one of the very first things Yiga are taught--whether as young children or as new additions if they join as teens or adults. As with many Yiga abilities (again, to be discussed in the future!), Sight has an accompanying rune/talisman that will keep it going perpetually. This is etched into an "active" mask when it is given to its owner. So, the owner puts on the mask, instantly starts the...for lack of a better word "spell," and then the rune keeps the ability "flowing" for as long as the user wishes.

Those vanishingly few Clan members who are completely devoid of magical ability must ask someone else to activate the rune for them. Unfortunately, their Sight through their masks is impaired by the fact that none of their own energy is being used to power the rune as it "flows." Such members do not take on/are not assigned to roles that will take them outside the Karusa Complex, as masks are absolutely required for such positions. Instead, they stay home, usually wear veils instead, and work within the Clan in other vital ways.

Current Designs

All Yiga masks save those for the Master and Right Hand share the same basic curved oval shape that contours around to cover the sides of the face, again for anonymity and conformity. Really the only difference about those two, too, is the addition of horns. All masks are marked with the Inverted Eye.

One other slightly different mask is that worn by the Heir, which is additionally marked by a curved slash of red down the sides of the face (most prominently visible in profile). This marks the Heir as one who is working to grow into leadership and one day wear a horned mask.

The horns on the Master and Right Hand's masks have that curved shape because they are meant to not only be horns, but flames. As in, flames of righteous fury against those who betrayed the Clan's ancestors, and the purifying flames of destruction they've hoped would purge the Kingdom of its ruling class! The red inlay of them of course matches the red of the Eyes, but also symbolizes the burning core of the Clan's intended vengeance.

The Master has three horns per side, and the Right Hand has one, so perhaps you've wondered: is there a two-horned mask? Why yes! I headcanon that there is! It is reserved for a Right Hand who is also the Heir. Which is not a very rare occurrence, since a Master would likely hope to rely on their Heir as their second-in-command, once they're of age and they've proven themself to be reliable, skilled, and powerful enough. (Great training to be Master themself one day!) Our current Best Guy Kohga remembers this mask as the one his father wore during his early childhood before his Nana died and Dad became Master. Kohga himself was also eventually given the two-horned mask when he became his father's Right Hand.

He was very proud to wear it.

He did not get to wear it for long.

The metal side ornaments on Yiga masks are meant to resemble fangs, and are meant to add an edge of ferociousness to the Clan's appearance. Even members who are not actively working in more martial positions wear them--a style similar to Footsoldiers', but with the subtle difference that the center ridge of their three-ridged design is red, instead of the top one.

Footsoldiers' ornaments are straighter and dagger-like, evoking their prowess with smaller, more concealed weapons and bows. The top ridge colored red indicates that they are in a martial position and their work--and if necessary, their bloodshed--protects the more "civilian" population of the Karusa Complex.

Blademasters' ornaments are curved and sharper, a show of their ferocity with larger, well, blades. Although usually hidden by their hoods when in they're in full uniform, their ornaments do still feature the three ridges with the top one in red.

The Right Hand's ornaments share the basic shape of the Blademasters', but are segmented more smoothly down their whole length, with the final, sharp segment at the tip in red. These show that the Right Hand is at the top of the martial hierarchy of the Clan, at the forefront of the Clan's protection and ready to stain their weapons ("fangs") with the blood of their enemies.

Finally, Master Kohga's ornaments' more hooked shape are similarly meant to represent curved fangs, but the more rounded, shiny red end-pieces are meant to evoke skill not only with weapons but with the special arcane techniques only a Master is trained in. The larger, round, red center of their five-ridged design shows that Master Kohga is the central figure for the Clan--not just the Chief or "top banana," but someone who lives among their people and keeps them together. Powerful, deadly, but also a unifying force.

Traditions Surrounding Masks

As suggested above, Yiga children start wearing veils and practicing using the Sight technique pretty young, so they're prepared for donning their masks when the time comes. Kids officially get their first masks at the very start of the year during which they'll turn eleven. Depending on the Clan's birth rate for a particular year there might be only a few getting masks or there might be a big group. Getting one's mask involves...

A trip to Satori Mountain with Master Kohga! The Mountain being a very important place for the Clan, it has been chosen for the children's (usually) first time leaving the relative safety of Karusa Valley. The Master takes them to the sacred spring among the sakura trees near the top, where they remove their veils and put on their first masks. This ceremonial part of the trip is fairly short, and involves a pledge to stay safe beneath the mask and to work to the best of one's ability for the Clan. Then, the kids get to have some fun exploring, doing some fun little tasks set by the Master--things like "pick four different kinds of mushroom" or "find the tree marked with the Eye." This is meant to give the children not only a chance to practice using Sight out in the open, but the opportunity to get to know the Mountain...and...well, to run around being kids rolling in grass and climbing trees, out in the world under the sky, using the basic tracking and stealth skills they've been learning through their childhoods. (This is truly another of the current Kohga's favorite days of the year. Man loves the kiddos.)

Once you've received your mask, you're also considered old enough to start doing more involved chores around the Complex and figuring out what jobs and roles you might want to start really training for. So it's a Coming of Age kind of event! Children's mask ornaments are again the same as footsoldiers' and civilians', but they have the lowest ridge painted red. Under the protection of everyone else. They'll have these until they turn sixteen--another milestone.

Clan members are expected to keep their faces covered or disguised even at home, once they have been given their first masks. I've said it before but it belongs in a post on this topic: one's true face is, after that age, reserved for one's very immediate family. Parents, grandparents, siblings, spouse, and kids/grandkids. So, when a child goes up Satori Mountain at the start of their special year, the moment between when they take off their veil and when they put on their mask may be the last time they see the real faces of their friends with whom they share an age. Honestly, it's quite poignant, a sort of shedding of one's childhood self and taking on of a new identity among the Clan.

After death, a person's final mask is kept for their family's area down in the Clan's ancestor shrine halls. Masks are cared for by family members as part of specific festivals and are brought out for various events like weddings and funerary rites within the family. Since so much of a person's energy flows through their mask over the time they wear it, it's believed to still carry a part of their essence. So it's felt that ancestors are especially "present" and watching over you, when you visit your family shrine, or when their masks are made a part of your special days.

Yiga masks are quite tough, and broken and outgrown ones are burned at home. Those who are assigned to jobs and missions outside the Valley must be adept at the disguise technique, but if one's mask is broken to the point it can no longer be worn and it is at all possible to break away from one's task, one is supposed to return home to retrieve a new one right away.

((Sooga's insistence on wearing his cracked mask is considered quite unusual and odd. It's honestly only permitted because he is the Right Hand and thus his horns and uniforms already make him stand out. He did have it reinforced and repainted after the incident. I gave his stated reasoning for keeping it in a prior post, but...it's also because he was initially ashamed at having broken the work of a master craftsman so shortly after he received it. To this day, years later, if pressed he will say that his mask is serviceable so there is no need to trouble anyone. Of course, now more than ever anyone would love to make him a new one, but...that's Sooga for you. T-T))

Married couples traditionally remove each other's masks on their wedding night, before shedding any remaining disguise. This is a profoundly intimate show of love and trust. Even within a marriage, consent must be given before taking off one's spouse's mask.

Once you turn sixteen, in fact, no one is allowed to remove your mask without your express permission. Even when you're disguised under there. That includes parents and romantic partners. It's considered incredibly rude and childish especially after that age, to grab at someone else's mask to try to remove it.

That said, poking at or rapping on someone's mask is just silly behavior between friends, and caressing a masked cheek is loving. Also, touching masked foreheads together is a gesture of closeness between family, friends, and partners. Especially with a romantic partner, it's like a masked kiss. Yes. It's true. Yiga bonk foreheads like kittycats. (/silly, not really)

Because Yiga tend to spend a lot of time with their faces--even their fake faces--covered up, as a culture they tend to be quite expressive with their bodies and vocal inflections. They don't have facial expressions to rely on for communication purposes all the time, so head-tilts and hand gestures and other body language are adopted from an early age to get one's point across. Of course this doesn't mean they don't know what facial expressions are and mean (don't be ridiculous)--they know those things too, for when they're using an unmasked disguise and for dealing with other races. Just...they tend to talk with their hands a lot and can tell another Yiga's intent or emotion by how far they're tilting their head or how they're leaning their body. In fact, not gesturing as much or using subtler postures is just as much considered "reserved" or "quiet" among the Yiga as simply keeping one's volume down. There's nuance in these things, that outsiders might not realize.

Yiga doing espionage have to sort of mitigate these instincts/learned behaviors; they can sometimes come off weird or unsettling, otherwise! Think of those travelers you may have seen on the roads...how they wave and call to you a little too enthusiastically, and smile just a bit too wide... But surely they're just friendly! You should go over to them and talk. If you're lucky, they might even sell you some bananas, at very fair prices!

And the last thing you see, will be the blood red of the Inverted Eye.

And there you have it! A whole bunch of headcanons about Masks! Hope you had a good time reading!

[badolmen]

“I’m scared to pirate stuff - ” do it scared!*

*with Firefox and Adblock and a VPN and -

If you want a nonspecific, nonexhaustive “where do I even start” guide…

Sail the cyber seas at your own risk!

Streaming - “I want to watch xyz”

This is normally what most people want when they talk about pirating.

Use Firefox with uBlock Origin and additional privacy add-ons such as PrivacyBadger, TrackMeNot, etc.

Free VPNs are out there. Get one - but vet it’s efficacy. My go-tos are Proton VPN, or Windscribe if you plan to do a bit of torrenting.

What is torrenting? How does it work? Here’s a guide!

Back to streaming -

Make sure that a) you’ve got your Mozilla browser with all its adblocking private glory, and b) you’ve got a VPN turned on to hide what you’re doing in that browser from your ISP (internet service provider).

Now you need to actually find a site to stream from. This is the tricky part, because openly sharing these sites will get them taken down if they’re talked about widely enough. (Remember how tiktok idiots got zlibrary taken down?)

You’re going to have to talk to people on forums. You’re going to have to experiment with sites you find yourself. Search for ‘x online free’ and look at the links that come up - is the preview text mangled or clickbaitey? Are there Reddit threads about that website confirming or denying its content? A good rule of thumb is to ignore the top result or two - copycats of good streaming sites will often buy out the top result spot. Eventually, you’ll develop a good gut feeling and understanding of what a good site ‘looks like’ from the results page alone.

However, there are some places that compile good sites that haven’t been nuked by lawyers (yet) - check out r/FMHY! The masterposts are actively curated and updated when a site goes down or is found to have malicious downloads.

Remember - loose lips sink ships. No tweeting (xeeting?) or Facebook statuses about your new favorite piracy website and where you found it. Even posting to tumblr (kind of like this…) isn’t a great idea if you want those websites to stay under the radar and stay accessible. Nobody talks, everybody walks (away with their share of pirate booty)

If you aren’t downloading media, pick pretty much any site and watch away! Adblock and Firefox will keep away pop-ups and other annoying ads, and your VPN means your ISP can’t tell that you’re visiting an unofficial streaming service.

Note: In my experience, I’ve never heard of visiting a site and watching stuff on it infecting or otherwise compromising your computer. That tends to come from misclicks on invisible or overwhelming pop-up ads that redirect you to an automatic download or similarly malicious bullshit. If you’re using Firefox and uBlock, you shouldn’t be in any danger of an accidental redirect.

Downloads - “I want to keep xyz”

This is the realm of pirate archiving - you’re keeping files physically on your hard drive, an external hard drive, or burning a disk.

Adblock + Firefox browser? Check. VPN on? Check.

Go to your streaming site of choice - most if not all have download options. You can download those files or, manually, right click and save the video file from the webpage as an mp4. I honestly don’t know if there’s a difference in quality or more danger in clicking the download buttons, but regardless -

Run that puppy through VirusTotal.com! It’s a reliable browser based virus checker - if the file is too large, use a local virus checking program (your native Windows Defender on Windows computers or, I prefer, Malwarebytes)

Generally mp4 and mp3 files are clean - choose where to save them for the long term, and bam! Free forever media.

Optionally, I also upload mp4 files to a named Google document - this way I can easily share them or make them findable through a ‘xyz Google doc’ search for others :]

Torrents - “I want to keep and share xyz”

I’m not going to go into this subject in depth because, honestly, it’s not something I do regularly.

See the previously linked Torrenting guide for information on how the process works, and check out r/FMHY for recommendations and warnings about different torrenting clients (I’ve personally only used qBittorrent - I’ve heard to stay away from the Pirate Bay and Bittorrent.)

As with streaming, turn on that VPN baby! You’re going to need one that supports peer-to-peer (p2p) connections, so Proton’s free version is a no-go. Windscribe is what I’ve used for torrenting (and it’s a good free VPN on its own - I’m just partial to Proton). You get 10GB every month on Windscribe’s free version, which is more than enough for a few movies/a season or two of your favorite show.

(Bigger torrents like video games are easily 30+ GB, so be prepared to either pay for a no-limit premium account or spend a few months downloading your files in chunks.)

VPN on? Double check.

Boot up your torrenting client - I use a slightly out of date version of qBittorent, but there are other options. The Reddit thread and previously linked torrenting guide have a few dos and donts of selecting a client, so be thorough before you download your client of choice.

This is getting into the logistics of torrenting a bit, so forgive me if this is vague or incorrect, but now you need a torrent seed. These will be .tor files found through pirating websites or archives - these are rarely malicious, but it’s good to run any piracy related download through something like VirusTotal.com or scan it with a local program like Malwarebytes.

You open your seed file in your client and wait. A ‘healthy’ seed tends to have lots of seeders and few leeches, but sometimes you’re stuck with an obscure seed you just have to wait for.

Your torrented files have fully downloaded! Now what? a) keep your client open and seed those files for others as long as you want to - sharing is caring! and b) run those files through a security program like Malwarebytes (not sponsored it’s just the only program I’m familiar with).

Be wary of what gets flagged - sometimes the files seem important, but are just trojans, and likewise sometimes they seem malicious, but are just cracked software getting flagged by your system. It’s good to check and see if others have had a problem with this particular torrent before - Reddit threads from 2008 are your long dead friends.

And that’s about it. Feel free to correct me if anything I’ve recommended is malicious or outright wrong. I’ve been doing this for years and haven’t had an active problem to my knowledge, so if there is something fishy with how I do things, I am a statistical outlier and should not be counted.

I wish you smooth sailing and strong winds in your ventures me hearties!

Obligatory ‘don’t pirate small author’s or artist’s works what the fuck dude’ statement.

[zippidi-dooda]

Rollo neatly stacked his bunch of papers, sitting ever so properly at his large oak desk. The fireplace crackled warmly from across the room, providing the only other light save for the decorative lamp on his desk. The astral patterns on the vintage lampshade casted faint images across the walls. It was a very cozy feel overall. But the man behind the desk didn't seem to care about that fact.

"I'd rather we didn't have all these festivities, but it is tradition and the people have come to grow attached to it." He said in response to your invitation.

"In addition to the locals, the light festival draws in countless tourists each year. I'd be hard set not to conduct the city decorations and street performances. I'll be out shortly to supervise the goings on, but make no mistake, I will not enjoy one bit of it."

"So, that's a no then?" You iterated, his words having gone in one end then out the other.

Stormy eyes glanced up at you from over thick papers. "No."

Rollo stood, then placed a hand on your back to guide you out the door. "Feel free to explore with one of the fellow councilmen instead, they're quite fond of the light show and will be dying to show you the best sights. If you happen to run into me during your perusal, please do not disturb as I will be on duty."

"But don't you get a break or something?"

"No. Good day, L/N." And with that final firm rejection, Rollo shut the heavy door in your face.

Attempt number who-knows-what now that the mayor of Fleur City had refused to participate in any fun during the holidays. Or any day for that matter. And it wasn't just you who invited him to partake in the events, all the councilmen and even a few citizens who knew him tried to urge a few hours of harmless off'the'clock onto him.

And it never worked.

He stayed cooped up in his offices, reading over problems and minor inconveniences posed around the city. You were greatful for his diligence, of course, but the deep bags under his eyes and blank expressions worried you. If you could convince him to take even half an hour distracted from his work you'd be happy.

But so far, no one knew how to achieve that.

Dejected and puzzling over your next move, you ambled off to join the rest of the town for the festival.

It worked to cheer you up, laughing and chatting with old friends, taking pictures surrounded by the jolly lights strung around each house, and sipping away at sweet and toasty beverages. The perfect day to end a day.

You continued on like this for a while, face warm despite the cold chill in the air, smiling as if you hadn't a care in the world.

Then you spotted the serious official just across the street. He stood tall, dark, flowing robes sticking out greatly against the bright, colorful lights. Like a fleck of ash among shimmery snow. The purple cloth pressed against his lips doing little to hide the clear distaste in his beach gray eyes.

It was almost comical in a way. If he wanted to blend in, why keep to the same clothes and guestures the people had long since grown accustomed to?

You waited till he was a bit further along the street before running over. The smile didn't leave your lips as you latched onto his arm , pulling him the other way. You knew he didn't need to help supervise the event, he'd assigned plenty of others to the task already. And you all agreed to cover his chores if one of you managed to convince the man to take a break. This was your chance to try again.

"Hey, Rollo! I need your help with something. Come with me?"

"Y/N?" He sighed, "alright, but it better be important."

"Is it, I promise." You lied, pulling him along. "It's a few blocks down so it might take a while."

You kept a firm hold on his arm as you walked, guising it as you didn't want to loose him in the crowd.

"So how is your patrol going?"

"Fine." He sighed, keeping step with you. "No fights thus far but that won't last long I'd imagine."

"Well you can relax till then, can't you?"

"Unlikely. I need to check up on the booths and stalls, make sure they're performing well, then-"

"Ah, then let's check this one here first!"

Rollo held back his disgust as you dragged him towards one of the crowded huts. "Y/N, you-"

"Hey, how's it going? Smoothly? Yeah, I knew that. But you know, Rollo, always the worry wart. Well, you guys keep up the good work. Say, you guys think we get two of those for the road? Yay! Thanks! Rollo, say thank you."

"... thank you."

The mayor was disgruntled as you chatted up the vendors, each of you acting as if he wasn't standing right there. His brow furrowed and he pressed his neat cloth to his lips.

"You ever tried this before?" You asked, handing him one of the hot styrofoam cups and taking a sip from your own.

"Of course. Though only once as it serves no purpose to better one's health."

"Just once? Even though we have all these festivals?" You asked keeping along the path, your free hand still looped through his arm.

"Yes. It's sickeningly sweet. I don't see how you people like them."

"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad. Drink it, you don't want it to go to waste." You urged shoving him gently. "Now that I think about, we never see you eat. You a vampire or something?"

"Such a creature is improbable. I simple enjoy lunching alone. And I'd prefer if it stays that way."

"Mmm." You opted to look around at the twinkling lights decorating the nooks rather than his side eye. "You know, we could-"

"Hey!" Rollo snapped, yanking you back and nearly sending both your drinks flying.

Alarmed, you looked back to see what was the issue only to find a little white goat butting its nubby horns into Rollo. It's teeth comfortably gnawing on his black robes.

"Shoo, go back from where you came from."

If you didn't know any better, you'd say the collected mayor looked about ready to kick the poor thing.

Rollo untangled himself from you, crouching to pry away the goat. "I know you can understand me, so bugger off. Clothes are not adequate food for you."

After a moment of tugging he managed to get the animal to back off. The goat bleated, bucking into Rollo's knees, and you saw a dark fire growing in the man's eyes.

"You little-! ... you know what ...? Here, I'll give you some of this if you agree to stop behaving this way."

"Rollo! You can't-"

"No! Not the cup, you dim-witted creature!" Rollo exasperated, tugging back his now empty and half eaten cup of hot cocoa.

The goat, meanwhile, munched merrily away, not at all interested in the drink staining the cobbles or the fuming man in front of him.

You held back a laugh as you watched Rollo incessantly try to keep himself from causing a bigger scene.

"Fine. Does this satisfy you?" He stood, brushing off his robes and put on his familiar mask, ready to walk ahead of it all. "Come along, Y/N, we had to help you with something, yes? Hey! Not again you-"

You bit your tongue as you picked up the little goat before it could run away with Rollo's large hat.

"It's still just a baby, Mister Flamme. He doesn't know any better." You handed the man back his hat, the long, red tassle hanging from it now damp with spit.

The goat sat docilly in your arms, bleating happily as you pet his soft fur. Rollo looked on with disdain.

"Maybe so. But like a child, it knows what it's doing."

"Seems there are some here that don't like you." You teased setting the goat down and shooing him away.

It did not even kick up a fuss, trotting away into the crowd.

Rollo, covered his mouth with his cloth, hand gripping tightly.

You took his tattered cup and tossed it along with yours before grabbing his free arm again and pulling him along. You rested your head on his shoulder, bright smile lighting your face.

"I'm guessing you weren't the type to have pets at home as a kid?"

He scoffed. "I hardly see how that's relevant."

You shrugged. "Just saying. Maybe if you spend some time with it on your daily walks he'll stop bugging you all the time."

"I'd rather it wasn't allowed to ...," he trailed off with a huff. "No, pay me no mind. Are we close to the place you needed me for?"

"Uh ... yeah, yeah, sure. First, why don't we-"

"Y/N, I don't-"

"Excuse me! Mister Flamme! Please, would you like one of these? I'm sure you could find someone who'd appreciate it." A elder man rang, pulling on Rollo's elbow and gesturing towards his little handmade display.

There was a neat spread of green branches dotted with red berries and tied with a neat ribbon. A shabby sign with messily scrawled letters read "Mistletoe 50 Cents."

You didn't think the stoic man next to you would so readily buy it.

"Take this as well."

"Oh! Thank you, Mister Flamme! May you have a blessed holiday! I hope you good fortune with this! Thank you, thank you!"

Rollo carried along with you still on his arm, his free hand now occupied by the evergreen.

Did you face feel warmer all of a sudden?

"... That was nice of you ...."

"Old man won't make much with these. He sells many useless items year-round. I try to advise him to sounder products but he refuses to listen. Stubborn."

You looked down. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." Unable to resist, you asked, "do you know what those are for?"

"Yes."

You looked up again, stomach tumbling as your heart rose. "You do?"

He was stone faced, stormy beach eyes fixed forward. Nose and cheeks were tinged a slight red, but you knew it was simply from the chill wind.

"Yes. It's a symbol of peace and good fortune as a goddess once wished it to never again be used as a weapon. Or at least that's how the story goes."

"And ... that's it?"

"Some use it in hopes of gaining fertility. Though that poses no real truth of cause."

"And?"

"And what? Do you want it? I'll admit I had no plans for it and it was just as likely to end up in the trash as the rest of them."

Quick to look back down, hand subconsciously squeezing onto his arm. "Ah, n-no. I'm good."

You continued on for longer in silence, mind wandering and wondering. Rollo was a serious man, perhaps he simply didn't know the most known tradition. You were in no place to teach him then, were you?

"We've reached the end of the festival area, I take this as there was no trouble you needed my help to begin with?"

You looked up, noting how you'd reached the iron fence lined edge of the seine.

The water was sparkling in the moonlight, gorgeous as it'll ever be. The streetlights sent an orange glow across the empty street. All the hustle and bustle of the festival was behind you leaving a strange dissonance between here and the rest of the still and quiet city.

Rollo leaned against the rail, cupping his cheek as he looked out at the water. "Suppose you finally managed to get me away from my work. Happy now?"

You leaned next to him. "A bit. Though it wasn't as fun a day out as I'd imagined it'd be what with you being at arms with a goat."

He rolled his eyes at your laugh. "Little bastard fools everyone into thinking he's cute. But you just saw today that he isn't."

You smiled resting your shoulder against his. "He is."

He hummed in disagreeance.

You both stood there for a moment, looking out at the bubbling river. The light here was different, less bright and colorful around every corner, but equally as beautiful.

"Will you be heading back, now?"

Rollo paused, breath coming out in soft white puffs. "No. I'm already here. Might as well spare a few more moments."

You nodded.

"Rollo?"

"Hm?"

"I liked spending time with you. I hope I can catch a break with you again soon."

He hummed in response.

You watched him, noting the way his expression seemed to relax, tired eyes drooping down, short hair ringing around his face like a silver halo. Quite the sight.

"Rollo?"

"Yes?"

"..."

As he waited for you to speak he lifted up the mistletoe. He raised it to his eyes, twirling it around slowly, simply observing it. And just as you found to courage to open your mouth, you watched as he cast the plant into the river. Green leaves and red berries bobbed slowly downstream. Until they were drowned beneath the water.

And you lost your words again.

"You had something to say?"

"Oh?" You looked down to where you clasped your hands over the rail. "Nothing. I forgot."

He turned his head to you, pondering for a moment with his blank expression. "Did you enjoy yourself tonight?"

You nodded, "Mhmm."

"... Good."

He looked up at the sky, noting the stars' sparkle. Lightly, his fingers tapped against the rails.

"Rollo I-"

"I know a place we-"

You chuckled as you cut each other off. "Sorry, you go first."

"No, please, you go on."

"No, it's alright. You can-"

"Y/N." He gave you his stern look.

You glanced down briefly before turning to him. "Um ... did you know that it's bad luck to throw away mistletoe like that?"

"How so?"

"Well ... they say it means it'll be difficult to find a partner after that."

"Mm. Well, I am not looking so ...." He shrugged.

You looked down again. He was shutting you down before he even knew it. As always.

"Do you believe in that superstitious drivel?"

"Well, I dunno. Maybe? It had to have been made up for some reason."

He hummed. "And you wish to break that misfortune?"

"Uhh ...?"

"There is a way. Supposedly. Though I have already threw the spring so it probably wouldn't work."

You raised a brow. "There is? I never heard that part before ...."

He nodded, covering his face with his cloth, the purple and stary fabric muffling his words. "You're supposed to kiss a person for every berry, then pluck them off the branch till there's none."

"I didn't even count them."

"Me neither." He kept his gaze skyward. "But some still try."

The rose in his cheeks spread to his ears, then seemed to spread to you.

"... do you ...?"

"Hah, as if I'd bother with that nonsense." He turned to you, brows curled angrily down and kerchief still over his mouth. "There is a charm to tradition though. And I've never been one to stray away from it."

You found it hard to swallow. "Is it worth it if we can't pluck the branch anymore?"

He made a show of shrugging, looking at the water again. "I dunno. But if it worries you that much ...."

You reached out, gently placing a hand atop his to bring his handkerchief down. "... Better safe than sorry ...?"

He breathed deeply and nodded.

First you leaned forward slowly. Then he followed, squeezing shut his eyes and puckering his lips. A small smile broke out against your own lips before pressing them together.

One breath, two breaths, three, then you broke apart.

It wasn't even a second before he reached out a hand, cupping it in your hair, a thumb caressing softly. "I said for every berry."

You let out a breathless laugh, watching his stern face grow increasingly rosey. "We don't know how many berries there were."

"Well ... I ... um ... you said it yourself, 'Better safe than sorry.'"

The smile threatened to stay on your lips. "This could take forever."

"We'll have to over compensate. Just to be sure."

You closed your eyes, resting your forehead against his. "I know. You like to cover all your bases."

"Right ..." His lips grazed over yours. "So?"

"I'd like that."

"Good."

So you kissed again, longer now, drawing yourself closer to him. A groan left his lips as you pulled away, his body warmer against you. There was a three second pause as you looked into each other's eyes. Then you drew in close again, each kiss longer than the last, holding on dearly and closer, repeating the same actions over and over and over again. Till another councilman rushed over, flustered by the scene, alerting the red faced mayor of trouble back at the festival.

[circle-with-me]

tangled up in morning white

pairing: jolly karlsson x female ofc (violet)

content warning: 18+MDNI! unprotected sex, fingering (female receiving), very soft intimacy, so much fluff, these two clowns are so in love.

word count: 1.4k

tag list: @deathblacksmoke @darksigns-exe @malice-ov-mercy @sitkowski @somebodyels3 @baddestomens @cncohshit @cookiesupplier @collective-heartbreak @tearfallpixie @broken0mens @collapsedglasshouses @lma1986 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @catharsis-in-darkness @shilohrosechicken @sprokat

author’s note: surprise addition to the jolly and violet verse! this stemmed from a soft boy hours post @darksigns-exe (read it here!!) made that absolutely blew my mind. i hope i did it justice 🩷

It’s hard for Jolly to believe that there was ever a time before Violet. Sure, it existed—but his life changed for the better when she came along. They clicked instantly and became fast friends; it was hard not to with so many shared interests. Things were easy with Violet. Not only was she a blast to be around but she knew how to handle the messes he could make—both in his personal life and in his head. He would show up at her house at all hours and she would gather up his troubles, find the missing pieces, and fix them all by dawn. Somehow she managed this all with a cup of coffee and a pencil shoved in her bun to keep her hair out of her face while she thought. Jolly had no idea how she did it, but he was sure she was heaven sent. He always hoped he provided her with half of the same moral support she had given him. 

Now, years later, he has the privilege of waking up next to her each morning. It’s a feeling that he’ll never get used to, Jolly thinks. At least he hopes he doesn’t. The conscious awareness of her weight next to him provides him a sense of security. As long as she’s near him, he knows she’s safe. 

Jolly lies on his side watching her chest rise and fall slowly—her breathing acting as a calming agent. Violet’s pulse beats steadily in her neck. He could so easily lean over and press a kiss there but he can’t bring himself to disturb her. He gently pushes a strand of hair out of her face, admiring the way she smiles at his touch. Every attempt he makes at memorizing her features ends with him discovering something new and even more remarkable about her. 

She stirs under his touch. Her head turns to place kisses to his palm before her eyes even begin to open. Watching her sleep was incomparable to the breathtaking experience of seeing her wake. She extends her arm around his waist, fingers dancing along the warm skin. 

“Good morning, my flower.”

“Mmm. Hi.” Violet whispers drowsily as she shifts into his arms, tangling their legs together. Jolly buries his face in her hair inhaling the scent of her shampoo. She makes a content sound settling into his chest, undoubtedly enjoying the warmth that has developed between them. 

It’s calming—the two of them basking in the quiet early morning hours. He craves these innocent moments with her—needs them in ways he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to describe. It’s these moments that he desperately misses when he’s on tour. He tries to take advantage of them as much as possible when he’s home. Having her this close is equally a blessing and a curse. This morning, he needs something more, and when her knee slots between his thighs just so, it’s impossible for him to hide it any longer. She shifts in his arms and he’s met with green eyes peering up at him.

“Honey,” Violet sighs. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She trails featherlight kisses across his chest. Her fingernails scratch at the skin under the waistband of his boxers. The contact makes him shudder and he can’t resist pressing into her more. 

“I didn’t want to wake you,” He responds, his voice giving away just how worked up he is. “Also, we were having such a nice moment—I was trying not to ruin it.” 

Violet looks up at him with a sinful smile. She pushes her hand past his waistband, wrapping her fingers around his erection. Jolly’s eyes roll back into his head at her touch. He feels her smile against his lips, all hope of returning any attention back to her lips is completely lost in the grip she has on him. 

“Who says this can’t be a part of our nice moment together?” 

Jolly lets his hands respond for him—hiking her leg on top of his thigh. His hands snake their way up her oversized t-shirt and push it over her head. He makes quick work of his boxers but he’s unwilling to part ways with her for long, tugging her close once again. Her bare body connecting with him sets him on fire when he feels how affected she is already. 

A gasp leaves her parted lips when he sneaks a hand between her legs, fingering through her folds. It’s dizzying how tight she feels around a single finger when he slips it inside her. There’s no protest when he works a second in soon after. Her fingers dig into his chest and shoulders as she searches for purchase. His head sinks below to capture her breast in his mouth, licking and sucking at her nipple. He craves her warmth around his length but doesn’t dare take her pleasure away from her. She’s so close and he can feel it. It isn’t much longer until she falls apart for him.

Breathless, she crawls on top of him. Her lips attach to his chest and she leaves gentle bites along the skin. When she sits up, Jolly is left speechless. The sun has come up and peeks through the crack of the window. It shines beautifully onto Violet’s body, highlighting her gorgeous form. The green in her eyes beam with such magnificence that it would make the most beautiful emerald look dull. 

She seems just as mesmerized by him in the warm light, unhurriedly running her palms down his chest and stomach repeatedly. The two of them admire each other for what seems like hours. Jolly would happily burn the image of her on top of him into his eyelids if he could. 

“You’re shaking.” Violet observes. Her hand still steadily moves up and down his torso. She doesn’t seem to realize that she’s also shaking. Jolly gently takes her hand. Violet laces their fingers together and brings them to her lips. 

“Vi,” He breathes. “I need you.”

Violet lifts her hips and sinks down onto him with practiced ease. He grabs her waist moving her to set the pace but she pushes them away choosing to set her own torturously slow rhythm instead. While he thinks he may go mad from the unhurried pace, the pleasure is immeasurable and Jolly can feel himself burning from the inside out. 

He grabs fistfuls of the sheets beneath him—anything to keep his hands busy. The longing to close the proximity between them is profound. As he watches her move he dreams about wrapping his hand around her throat, not to choke, but bring her down to him—crush their lips together and intensify the moment even more. The desire to touch her grows too strong. He places a large palm on Violet’s chest, allowing her pulse to settle the frenzied thoughts in his brain.

The slow drag of her hips sets him alight with pleasure but his body relaxes with every roll, every sigh from her lips, every flutter of her eyelashes. He feels her walls squeeze around him—her legs begin to shake and the rest of her body follows soon after. The way she moans his name, Joakim, has always been unlike any other but this time feels different. Her voice raises an octave as a gasp forms around the end of his name. The glow of the morning light radiates around her and he feels unworthy of bearing witness to this moment. But it’s their moment. It belongs to them.

When Violet collapses over him— shuddering but otherwise still—he feels her fingers run through his brown locks that have spread out over the pillow. The pressure of her on his chest is blissfully suffocating. She kisses him in such a way that what little oxygen is left is pulled straight from his lungs. The feeling consumes him and he spills into her without warning. Each muscle in his body goes taut. Every one of his senses implode as she begins rocking on top of him again to prolong his climax. 

Jolly tries to see her again, to bask in her glow once more as he comes back down, but all he sees is Violet’s silhouette with a faint orange hue surrounding it. Her lips press against his forehead—the hands that were once in his hair cup his face, her thumbs delicately graze along his cheekbones. Violet’s soft murmurs of praise barely register in his ears from the blood still rushing through them. His arms wrap around her, somehow pulling her in closer than before. He’ll selfishly hold her here until she insists on getting out of bed.