#so even emptying out my savings to make a down payment (and putting to bed any idea i had of going back to school) wouldn’t be enough

[j-esbian]

man i have been trying so hard not to panic but last night i was talking with my mom and she was like “yeah hopefully in a year from now, we’ll have moved back to live near family” and like. i knew that was their eventual goal but i didn’t realize it would be that soon. and i was trying to be happy for them but i hate that all i can think about now is “oh god where am i going to live” like i was Already stressing about this anyway but now it’s got a hard time limit

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader Genre: Smut, 18+, Mafia AU Trope: Woke up married Dialogue Prompt: “Aren’t we supposed to be working?”  Warnings: overdosing on cold medicine, mixing cold medicine with alcohol, dub-con, mentions of sex while unconscious, vomiting Word Count: 4,480

This is my contribution to this month’s bnharem collab. I was so happy when I spun the roulette wheel and it landed on my favorite au, the mafia au. I hope you all enjoy and make sure to check out everyone else’s contributions here. Also a big thanks to @doinmybesthere​ for being my beta reader and putting so much work into creating the master list for this collab.

“A fever? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You winced at the voice coming out of your phone. You were curled up in bed, a heavy futon draped over your achey, chilled body. “I’m really sorry,” you croaked into the receiver. “I can’t get out of bed; there’s no way I’ll be able to come into work today.”

“You know how important tonight’s meeting is.”

You could feel the fire in the eyes of your underboss as he spat at you about how important tonight’s festivities were. You couldn’t care less. You hated the guy, but more importantly you hated your father for getting you in this mess.

A debt needed to be paid and your family couldn’t afford to take out a second mortgage on the house. So your father, as smart as he thought he was, went to the nicest restaurant on the far side of town where the boss of one of the most dangerous mobs in the city stationed his office.

A debt for a debt. That’s what he told you as he came home smiling with a big check in his wallet. No one in your family knew where he got the money, but he seemed confident enough that he’d be able to pay it back.

A month went by and one day, three scary men knocked on your apartment door. They said they were there to “collect”.

You were terrified. You thought they were there to rob you, to take the money you had been saving in a rainy-day fund. But no, they came to collect you. Now, it’s been four months and you’re still stuck doing odd jobs for them--grocery and coffee runs as well as spending reports and other money related things you are less than qualified to do.

You hate your job. You hate having to put up with the unorthodox hours and the unsavory jobs and the complaints about your work ethic and the having to do it over again because you didn’t do it right the first time. You want out. If you weren’t positive that if you left they would be able to hunt you down, you would have fled the country by now.

But your father’s debt still hasn’t been paid.

“Look,” you pleaded. “I can come in tomorrow and work double my usual time. Please, Kirishima-san, I just need the day to rest.”

“Not a chance. You’re coming in today and that’s final. If you don’t, well, then maybe we need to take an extra payment from your parents.”

Before you could even process what he just said, he hung up the phone.

Another payment from your parents. You couldn’t possibly let them take any more from your family. With a new threat looming over your head, you mustered up enough strength to push off of your futon and get dressed for the clients’ dinner.

By the time it was 7:00 in the evening, you had taken a large swig of cold medicine and were ready to spend the night serving these criminals.

Outside of the restaurant, two bodyguards were stationed at the front door and one at the back entrance. All three of them were dressed in black from head to toe. You, on the other hand, were tasked with serving your boss’s clients, so your outfit differed from theirs.

You were dressed in attire suited for waiting tables. Black slacks stretch across your legs and your pristine shirt was smoothed against your body. A tight black vest clung to your chest and pressed against your boobs, squishing them together. If it weren’t for the fever, chills, and headache, you would look like you belonged with this crowd of criminals.

You flashed your ID to the guard at the back door and he nodded you in. Your eyes had to adjust to the fluorescent kitchen lighting, but once they did you saw how busy everyone was. It truly was one of the most important nights for your boss, so you understood why you were needed. Still, this night would truly take the most out of you.

“Oi, (L/n),” one of your boss’s associates called for you. “Take these to table four. I’ve been covering your ass for the last twenty minutes.”

“Of course, Kaminari-san.” You bowed your head and skirted over to the table where two well-dressed men spoke with one another in a hushed tone. You placed their meals in front of them and bowed your head.

“Wait,” one of them called as you began to walk away. “I asked for a Jasmine tea. This is Sencha.”

“Yeah,” the other one piped up. “And I asked for a Sencha tea and this is Jasmine.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to yell into the abyss and slap those men across the face. But of course all you did was bow in apology and take the cups back. Kirishima’s words to you over the phone rang loud and clear in your mind.

“Anything they need, you get it for them. These are important people the boss works with and we can’t have idiots like you messing this up for us.”

The men smirked at you and as you turned around to grab their “correct orders,” the man who ordered the Jasmine tea leaned over to leave a hard, painful smack across your ass.

You froze but didn’t say anything and walked away.

It was still early in the night but you had run yourself thin. You needed to sit down or to at least take a sip of water, but there was no room for breaks as you bounced from table to table getting the people what they wanted. You had even left the venue a couple times to retrieve items like the proper creamer one client required in their coffee.

Your throat was so sore and dry and it was aching for a break. Your entire body was aching for a break. But as you saw someone sitting at one of the tables raise her hand to wave you over, you had to put all of your aches aside to tend to her needs.

“Good evening, ma’am.” You bowed your head. “How may I assist you?”

A small smile was on her dark red painted lips. She seemed to be searching for something as she eyed you up and down. “Do you happen to know when Bakugou-san will be joining us?”

Bakugou-san… Were you supposed to know who that is? You had never heard the name before, although you knew your boss had many ties throughout the district. It could be one of them.

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I could ask my supervisors if they happen to know.”

She waited a moment. She seemed to be searching for something in your expression. “That’s all right. You may go back to work now.”

You bowed and thanked her.

Bakugou-san.

The name did sound familiar, but you’re not sure where you could have heard it. It wasn’t until you were deep in thought, trying to recall where you had heard the name, that you could feel something pushing up against your throat. Oh god. Your stomach was churning.

You ran to the bathroom, pushing someone out of the way to get there. You’d probably hear an earful from Kirishima for pushing a guest, but you needed to find a toilet before--

Oh no.

You barely made it into the stall before emptying the contents of your stomach onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. Your legs collapsed from under you and you kneeled in your vomit as you coughed up your stomach lining into the porcelain bowl.

Tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breathe while hacking everything you had into the toilet. The black eyeliner you threw on before leaving the house had smudged into raccoon eyes around your lashes.

You rested your cheek against the toilet, ignoring all of the germs that were most likely crawling up your skin and into your pores. The toilet seat felt cool against your burning cheek and watering eyes. You thought you could die happily here, kneeling on the bathroom tiles in a pile of your slowly cooling vomit.

“Aren’t we supposed to be working here?”

Your eyes shot open, and in trying to stand up you slipped. Your ass landed in the smeared vomit. You winced and let out a drawn out, “fuuuck.”

It took you a moment before opening your eyes again and looking up at the man in front of you. And boy did your eyes widen. He was clearly a guest at the clients’ dinner. His blonde hair was slicked back and the bulge of his muscles under his crisp black button down didn’t go unnoticed by you. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms and as he crossed his arms over his chest, his sleeves began to tighten.

“Who the hell are you and why are you puking on the floor?”

It took you a second to find your voice. “I’m, um...” you trailed off. “(L/n), sir.” You cleared your throat. “I am a worker for the person hosting this dinner.” You tried to stand up and bow, but he put a hand up to stop you.

“You work for them.” It was a statement not a question, but you nodded anyway. “Why? What do you owe?”

You’re not sure why he was asking, but his intimidating glare compelled you to answer his every question. “My dad owes them money,” you admitted. “And he wasn’t able to pay them back.”

“Who do you mean by them?”

You weren’t sure how to answer. You didn’t even know what these people did. For all you knew they were drug mules or assassins. You never wanted to know what they did when you were roped in. After all, the less you knew meant you could have more of a normal life. “The boss,” you finally answered. Who the boss was, you weren’t sure. You answered to Kirishima but he didn’t have much power aside from ordering around you and every other person unfortunate enough to be roped into working for them.

The man in front of you scoffed. “Get up.”

You scrambled to your feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that hit you. The man led you out of the bathroom, and as you walked behind him, people who passed the two of you stopped and stared. Oh no, it had to be from the vomit stains on your leg and down your shirt. You probably stank to high hell and your eyes wouldn’t stop watering from your fever.

The man stopped and you had to keep from bumping into him. “There’s an extra work shirt in the closet,” he said. “There should also be some slacks in there. Leave your dirty clothes in a pile and I’ll have someone collect them.”

His voice was demanding and it took you a moment to register what he said. It wasn’t until he snapped in your face that you moved.

“We don’t have all day, princess.”

You flinched and nodded before scurrying into the closet and flicking the light on. Inside the closet was the restaurant’s sad excuse for a boiler room. The low humming from the machinery brought you back into the present as you searched for the change of clothes you were promised.

There was a crisp white shirt folded on one of the shelves as well as a few different slacks in varying sizes. The shirt was a size too small, so you had to leave the first couple buttons popped open. Before leaving the closet, you tried to think about who the man was and why he was helping you. Was it possible that he wanted something in return?

When you emerged from the closet, he looked you up and down. You were too tired, however, to notice his lingering glare on your chest and the way the button down squeezed your breasts closer together.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes. You’re not sure why you were too scared to look into his vermillion eyes, but the way he called you princess earlier as he snapped at you had definitely made you tremble in your core, and you swore that if you looked up to meet his eyes, your fever would only go higher and higher.

“Why the hell’d you come here if you were sick anyway? Are you trying to poison everyone in the damn building?�� His words were like little bullets that shot at every one of your doubts of coming in tonight.

You thought back to why you had come in the first place. You were huddled up in your futon that morning when Kirishima called. You begged to stay home, right? But you couldn’t. You squinted hard as you tried to remember why you weren’t allowed to rest. “I was threatened,” you thought out loud. It wasn’t directed towards the man but he nodded in any case.

���(L/n) was it, right?”

You finally managed to look up at him with bleary eyes. “Yeah, um...” You couldn’t seem to remember what his name was. Wait, he hadn’t told you. He had just led you around and given you new clothes, but he never properly introduced himself.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he said as if he could read your mind. His lips turned up into a smirk. “But call me Katsuki.”

“Katsuki,” you mumbled. “Bakugou Katsuki.” You had heard that name before, but where. “Bakugou,” you mumbled again as if you were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. “Bakugou-san.”

He quirked an eyebrow up at you.

“Oh!” It hit you like a ton of bricks and as soon as you shot up, you had to recoil because of the ache in the back of your neck. “There’s a woman looking for you, Bakugou-san, er, Katuki,” you bowed.

He just chuckled. “There’s a lot of people looking for me tonight. Who was it?”

That’s a good question. You squinted as if you were looking deep into your memories to remember who it was who asked for him. “She was a woman,” you remembered. “With long dark hair and dark red lips.”

Katsuki nodded. “I see the Yaoyorozus are here.”

The Yaoyorozus. You weren’t sure what that could mean but you didn’t feel like questioning it, so you nodded instead.

Katsuki was looking down at you. His arms were crossed over his chest but a smirk that had been playing across his face all night wouldn’t seem to go away. “Feeling better?”

You didn’t feel better. Although you felt cleaner in the new clothes, there was still a throbbing in your head that wasn’t going away and the overhead lights made your eyes water. But the way that Katsuki looked at you like he was expecting you to say yes just drew you in.

He could tell that the way you nodded a yes in response to his question was a lie, and his face fell before pushing a hand up to your forehead, checking your temperature. “Have you taken anything today?”

You had to think back to earlier that day when you brought the bottle of cold medicine up to your lips, not even reading the recommended dose before downing what you could and leaving your home. “Yeah, um, I took some medicine.”

The grin that had been spread across Katsuki’s face returned. “Well I guess we’ll have to get you some more.”

He grabbed your wrist and led you through the halls and over to the bar. You didn’t pay attention to where you were going. The world seemed to be going too fast for you to keep up. What you were able to notice was that everyone’s eyes were on you as you gently swayed back and forth, trying to settle yourself down. As you were in your own head, you couldn’t start to picture what everyone else saw when they looked at you. You with your raccoon eyes due to streaky makeup that you couldn’t stop rubbing.

“Here.” Katsuki shoved a glass in your face. “Not necessarily traditional medicine but it’ll get the job done.”

You looked up at the whiskey glass in his hand. The ‘medicine’ was a deep brown color which swirled around as he handed it to you. Your fingers brushed against his thick ones as you took the glass. You lifted it up to your nose and took a deep breath in, gagging at the smell. “Um, I don’t think I should.” You had been warned about mixing alcohol with drugs and the dangers that came with it, but no one had ever told you not to mix drinks with cold medicine. Still, that couldn’t be right, right?

“Come on, it’s good for you,” he egged you on. “Besides, it’ll get that nasty taste out of your mouth.”

You had never tried whiskey before. You were used to lighter drinks, something bubbly with a shot of vodka or two in it. But this was almost too much. You lifted the glass up to your lips and tilted it back. Your lips stung as they made contact with the drink, but you didn’t want to seem weak to Katsuki. He’d taken care of you so far and seemed pleasant enough, albeit intimidating.

As you tipped it back further and took more of the drink into your mouth, Katsuki pushed his hand against the bottom of the glass so you couldn’t tear it away, making sure you would drink every last drop. It stung going down and the cubes pressing against your lip were colder than you expected. You gagged as a couple loose tears rolled down your face from the drink’s burning sensation. You bet you looked even more of a mess now.

“Good girl,” Katsuki said with a low demeanor. With his thumb, he wiped away a drop of whiskey that rolled down your chin.

“And this’ll make me feel better?” You didn’t think you were supposed to drink when you were sick, but you were far too tired to even think about what was wrong and what was right. If he said that it’d make you feel better, then that had to be a good thing. You’re sure of it.

“Sure will.” He placed a firm, calloused hand on your head and stroked down your hair. You nuzzled into his warmth.

It was such a nice sensation that it almost made you forget that you were supposed to be working. That there were people waiting on you to bring them their food and fetch their creamer, people who were ready to slap your ass and laugh as soon as you turned away.

“I have a,” you started, not really sure where that sentence was going. “I have to go back to work.”

As you began walking away, Katsuki stopped you, pulling you back over so your face was practically pressed up against his chest. “No you don’t. You’re sick, remember?”

Right, as if you hadn’t forgotten. But he was right. You were sick and your medicine hadn’t kicked in yet. You couldn’t risk spreading your germs and getting anyone else sick.

You watched the dinner guests from afar. You leaned in to hear conversations about hitmen and other rivaling mobs around town. Some were about money laundering and clients that needed to be taken out, whatever that meant.

At one point, someone asked to pull Katsuki aside and talk alone, but instead he just pulled you closer.

“The hell do you want, Yoarashi?”

Yoarashi was a big guy, bigger than Katsuki, but it was clear even to you that he was intimidated by the blonde in front of him.

“You owe me for what I let you borrow last month.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

To you, they sounded like they were underwater and you weren’t sure what they were discussing, but you were curious to learn more.

“Come on, Bakugou. Work with me here.”

“I’m a busy man, Yoarashi. Now get out of my face before I have my men take care of you.”

Something about the raw power and the threatening tone behind Katsuki’s voice made you excited. You wanted to melt into his words, but you weren’t sure why.

“Busy man?” Yoarashi scoffed. “Come on, Bakugou. You’ve barely been seen all night. Where have you been, fucking this little lackey of yours?”

He didn’t mean you, did he? Before you could even comprehend what he just insinuated, Katsuki turned you around and pressed your face up against his chest. You could feel yourself growing even hotter as you were pushed into one of his pectorals. One of his hands cupped the back of your head. Was he protecting you?

“Listen here,” you heard him say. “Don’t contact us ever again unless you want to end up like your first boss did. I can make your life a living hell and I will, got that?”

“Don’t think I don’t have other contacts, all right? You aren’t the only one in this town with resources, Bakugou.”

You felt something jab into the other side of Katsuki’s chest. Did Yoarashi hit him? A few seconds went by before you heard the snapping of fingers and two men came over to drag Yoarashi away.

Katsuki released the hold he had on you, and you watched as the tall man struggled out of his hold. “You aren’t gonna tell anyone what you saw here tonight, right princess?”

You shook your head. You weren’t sure what exactly you felt when you saw that man being dragged away. You were scared, of course; scared for your own life and of the raw power that Katsuki seemed to hold. But on top of fear there was something else. There was a tingle between your thighs that wouldn’t seem to go away, and there was also a sense of excitement. Out of all the people here, this man was paying attention to you. You were far from Mafia material, but he clearly saw something in you and you wanted more of his gaze lingering on you.

Your mind felt hazy with Katsuki and you wanted even more. You didn’t know what to do when you felt him smooth his hand down your back. You didn’t know what to do when his usual smirk turned into something much more dangerous. And you didn’t know what to do when he leaned over and pressed his lips against your own.

His lips felt heavenly as they explored you. They were soft and welcoming despite his cold and dangerous exterior. His tongue probed its way into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and something else which you assumed was just him. He bit your lip and it felt like he smiled when you let out a moan.

When he released, you felt as if the whole world was spinning with Katsuki. You wobbled around a bit and he chuckled. You tried asking if you could sit down, but the words refused to come out. The last thing you remember is seeing the world go black, the sound of the clients’ dinner fading out of earshot, and two strong arms carrying you away from reality.

You were in pain by the time you woke up. Your body, especially your head, ached tremendously and you wished the sun would stop shining so bright through your window. But wait, the window in your bedroom at your apartment faced another building. The sun never shined too bright in the morning when you were at home.

Slowly, you peaked your head out from under the covers and looked around. You weren’t in your bedroom, but you were in a bedroom. The bed you had been asleep in was enormous, but aside from that there was not much else furniture in the room or even any pictures to signify who the room could belong to.

It wasn’t until you sat up that you realized just how exposed you were under the covers. You couldn’t find your clothing anywhere. What were you even wearing last night? Where were you last night?

You remembered being sick and being called into work by Kirishima. You were stressed. You were nauseous. There was a beautiful woman who asked for someone in particular but you were too sick to remember what their name was, right?

And then you raced to the bathroom and met--

A groan from beside you shook you out of your thoughts, and as soon as you saw the person lying in bed next to you, all of your memories came flooding back.

“Morning, baby girl,” Katsuki said.

You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth hung open and you felt lightheaded.

Katsuki was shirtless under the covers and you were too scared to ask if he had anything on covering his lower half. “You put on quite the show last night.”

Last night. Where you met him. What did you do last night? “I...” You didn’t know what to say, and that made Katsuki let out a booming laugh.

“Come on, you remember at least a little of it don’t you?”

You shook your head. Then you shook your head again. You couldn’t stop shaking your head.

Katsuki put a hand on your shoulder and you stopped. He had a shit eating grin spread across his face that you wanted to both punch and kiss at the same time. “First throwing up at my party and then getting blackout drunk in front of all my guests.”

“What?” You could barely remember anything. What did he mean ‘his party’? The clients’ dinner was run by…

Your eyes widened as you realized just who you had found yourself naked in bed with. Who had found you puking on the bathroom floor. Who that stunningly gorgeous woman was asking for earlier.

You clamped a hand over your mouth and Katsuki let out another chuckle. “You really were the life of the party.” He grabbed your wrist and dragged you over to his side of the bed, and you let him. He dragged his hand up and down your exposed body and roughly cupped your sex. “I had a blast toying around with you last night, but now I want you to be able to remember what it feels like when I bury my cock inside of you, sweetheart.”

You hated the way he was grabbing you and the way he forced your legs to open up for him, but what you hated more than any of that was the way his words made your inner thighs ache and how they instinctively parted just for him.

You turned away as he leaned down to smother your chest with rough kisses, and as you looked over to your left hand, you couldn’t help but notice a diamond ring that wasn’t there the night before.

[clementinesjourney]

Record Shop Funk - Pt. 1 Like real people do

A.N. : Hey guys, so i had this idea yesterday, and i really hope you'll like it. <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Words: 1,9k

Pairing: camboy!Steve x Reader, roommate!Bucky x reader, Stucky x reader (as the story goes)

Warnings: nothing yet :)

Summary: Who knew that having a secret crush, then a hearbreak will end in such a sweet thing..

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Bucky shared an apartment above the recordshop you both worked in. Your aunt was the owner of both, so it was a fairly good payment, and a fairly good apartment for a cheap price. It was a bright and big apartment with two bedrooms, so your decided to rent it out, all while searching for a helper to the shop downstairs. When Bucky came in applying for the job, you asked out of joke if he needs a place to live since you had seen around 5 people already and none of them felt right. His eyes lit up as he said he is in fact looking for a place. Since he was fitting for a job, and looked like a decent guy, you congratulated him on his new job, and asked if he wants to see the place today. You still had one and a half hour to close, but after it you would gladly show him the apartment.

He had nothing better to do, so he agreed to it, feeling happy about having a job he might actually like and a coworker he might actually will get along with.

-Do you drink coffee? I was thinking of getting one in the meantime. My friend works close by, and they make the best coffee in town. - He asked.

-I could go for one thank you - you smiled at him - iced cold-brew, no sugar, i'm sweet enough.. - you said with a smile.

He couldn't help but smile back at the joke. When he arrived at the café, he saw his friend Steve flirting with a girl whom he could visibly see trembling just cause he talked to her. Steve always had his way with girls, ever since the serum of course. After he broke up with Peggy, it was mostly just hookups, never finding a girl worth keeping around. Not as if they werent kind, pretty or good to him, it just never felt right. Bucky smiled at his friend, Steve immediately shifted his gaze from the girl, to a very happy Bucky.

-Did you get the job?

-Better.. I got the job, and she has a room for rent which i'll see tonight.

-Wow Bucky, i didn't know you were even better then i am.. sooo how does she look? - asked Steve with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows. He wanted Bucky to get a girl since ages and hearing this, his mind immediately ventured there.

-5'7, ginger, green eyes, freckles, curvy just the right places. why?

-Nothing Buck.. nothing.. - Steve said smirking at his friend.. Bucky never realized when he liked a girl, so he never really acted on it. He last had a woman back in the 40's.

-Sooo i know you didn't come to have chat with me, one black coffee and.. ?

-ah, iced cold-brew, no sugar..

After paying for the coffee, he hurried back to the shop, hoping to get to know his coworker a little bit better.

You thanked him for the coffee, and when you tried to pay, he refused.

-Next round's mine then. - You smiled at him with your 1000 watt smile, which again he couldn't help but smile back at.

-So tell me about you Bucky, what do you do in your freetime?

-Nothing really, just reading, spending time with my friends, kind of thats it.. I have a boring life really. What about you?

-Well, i work here, then i go home and listen to music, cook, god i love to cook, thats a big pro for the apartment.. just saying. - you said with a playful wink. - besides that nothing much. Sometimes i go to a nearby bar with my friends maybe concerts and thats it.

-I like washing dishes if that helps with the application for the room. - he said with a shy laugh which made your heart skip a beat.

- It sure does.. Do you leave your stuff around?

-No i'm a tidy person.. thank you very much. - he said cockily (just for the sake of being funny really).

-Okay okay, if you like it you can have the room, just promise to tell if you bring up a girl so i can leave. The walls are kind of thin.

-It's okay, i don't really...

-Oh um i'm sorry, i didn't meant to intrude, it just something i would really like everyone to add to their rental contracts. - you chuckled embarassed.

-Noo no, it's okay, i'm not embarassed by it. I guess i don't want hook ups, if one day there's someone i'll tell in advance.

-yea me too, i promise. If you end up renting it anyway haha. on that note it's time to close so i can show the room in a min.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you opened the door to the apartment Buckyquietly took in it all. It was really bright, white walls with paintings all over the walls, plants in every corner or shelf you can put one on, a comfy looking mustard couch, aztec-y rug under the coffeetable, and a wall fully shelved, filled with books and little trinkets, it looked like a home he never had a chance to have. The livingroom had an american kitchen on the side, island in the middle of the kitchen area, it was white, and blue which reminded him of greece, down the hallway you showed him the bathroom which of course had a lot of plants that liked the atmosphere of a bathroom, a shower in the corner and a bathtub under the window. You then showed the empty room he could rent out. It only had a shelf and a wardrobe, and a queen sized bed. No decorations, no signs of anybody ever living there. You then pointed to the room the opposit of what could possibly be Bucky's in the future, saying that is yours. You didn't show your room, he wasn't gonna go in there anyway, and showing your most private space on the first day didn't seem like a good idea either. You then invited him out to the balcony, watching the setting sun, smoking a cigarette.

-So thats about it, what do you think?

-I really like it, and i mean.. my workplace is pretty close so thats a plus, also you said something about cooking all the time.. sooo if it's alright with you i would love to rent it out.

-It's settled then roomie. I'll give you the keys, you can move in whenever you want to. Tomorrow we are closed, so maybe that would be ideal.

-Yea, then tomorrow it is then. I'll ask my friend to help, then we can maybe hang a bit if you're free.

-Sure, i have nothing planned, and it's good to know who i'll be living with. - you said with a smile.

Before closing the door, you said your goodbyes, and you realized what did you just do, after he wished you good night with a killer halfsmile that almost had your knees buckle. You just agreed to living together with possibly the most handsome man you've ever seen who is also your new coworker, so you will basically spend most of your time with him.. Guess we'll see how this goes you thought to yourself.

Morning came soon enough, you were sitting out on the balcony when you saw Bucky arrive with a very tall, just as handsome man, carrying boxes of books, and bags of clothing. Bucky looked up at the balcony, waving towards you, you waved back, then moved to open the front door before going back out to the balcony, resuming your coffee and smoke.

When they finished bringing all Bucky's stuff in, it was already midday, so you decided you'd order pizza for all of you, as in like a welcome present.

-Hey guys, i'm thinking of ordering pizza, what kind would you like?

-Oh (y/n) you don't have to. - said Bucky, earning a smirk from Steve as he looked back and forth between you two.

- Noo i insist, today won't be the day i'll start to slowly kill you with my cooking. - you said giggling a bit.

- Whatever's fine peach. - said Steve with a wink, that you decided was just out of friendlyness. You didn't veen knew his name, and he seemed like a lady's man anyways. Not really your type no matter how handsome and muscular he is.

- Steve, by the way, nice to meet you.

-(Y/n), likewise. - you shook his hand.

When the pizzas arrived you called them to the kitchen, listening to all their shared stories from their early years. They seemed like really close friends, and genuinely good people. You had a really great time. It was nearly 9 pm when Steve left, for saving a dame from dying cause of boredom he said. You and Bucky chuckled, then he let him out, closing the door, locking it for the night.

-I guess i have some packing to do, so.. good night (y/n).

-Good night Bucky, if you need anything just knock. - you said with a smile, and he couldn't help but smile back. He felt at peace. He had Steve, now he had a job, and a room to make a home of, and you as a new addition. You were so kind, so eager to help if he needed anything, he loved how the scent of raspberries and flowers lingered in the apartment mixed with coffee and cigarette smoke. It seemed to have a calming effect on him.

You heard a soft knock half an hour later. WHen you opened the door you saw a smiling Bucky, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

- Hey, um.. sorry. I forgot i didn't bring a blanket, could i borrow one until i get my own?

-Yea sure, i'll get one in a min. - You said, leaving the door open, letting him see a bit of "you" while you were searching for your spare blanket in your wardrobe. The room really was you. White, with mustardy curtains on the window, plants everywhere, books piled up here and there, a really comfy looking bed, pictures of you and your friends on the walls. And damn, your room smelled even more like you. If he wouldn't pay attention your scent would lure him into your room and never let him leave he thought.

-There you go. - you handed him the blanket smiling.

-Thank you very much.

Then he stood there for a moment drinking in the sight of you in front of him. You were wearing an oversized tshirt, that ended just around the middle of your thighs, hair in a messy bun, no makeup. He could swear he thought you were pretty before, but seeing you as you were made him fancy you even more.

With a small smile you told him goodnight again, then closed the door in his face.

You could hear his little laugh on the other side of the door, then his door closing. For the first time in months he didn't wake up in the middle of the night, and he didn't had a nightmare either. He was afraid he would, and then he would wake you up with his screaming, but looks like the blanket which smelled just like you calmed him enough.

After waking up because the rays of sunshine on his face, he smiled to himself guess i'll wait with getting my own blanket then...

[jiminrings]

i think stem!koo would compare himself with the other guy and start questioning if that’s more oc’s type and if he’s just the outlier. maybe even tries mimicking the other guy to see oc’s reaction… like if oc was talking to hobi and guk saw and then when they meet up a few day later oc’s like???? why are you blonde?

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

besides hoseok having the divine ability to throw pretty cool parties, it turns out he’s actually pretty cool too — too bad jungkook doesn’t know how to handle his jealousy at all.

“would you hate me?”

there’s no morning like today, really

no morning like today because all three of you woke up before 10 am

setting alarms when there are no classes is the equivalent of setting yourself up and you will not subject yourself to that!! — you wake up at like 12 pm max

yoongi would typically wake up at 4 in the morning, groggily realize that it’s iNDEED 4 in the morning, and go back to sleep — he wakes up seven hours later <3

jin’s sleeping pattern (or as what he calls un-blinking hours) fluctuates so oftenly and is therefore non-existent — he wakes up only when you wake him up!!

the three of you just started coming out of your rooms one-by-one and were in a daze looking at each other :|

no morning like today because now that the three of you woke up practically at the same exact time for an unknown reason, you asked if you can have jungkook come over for breakfast and they agreed

“do you guys mind if i invite jungkook for breakfast?”

“nah. go ahead.”

“it’s alright i understand i-?? what did you just say?”

jungkook also feels like there’s definitely something in the air this morning and it’s not weed lol

jin greeted him and yoongi nodded at him??? it felt as weird yet gratifying as a nickelodeon show crossover

all of you are immersed in casual and playful chatter in a somehow haze!! seokjin’s on autopilot preparing four (!!) bowls and yoongi’s getting the family (!!) cutlery instead of the disposable visitor ones

which is why the moment you ask a seemingly-loaded question, everyone just immediately snappeD out of it and was brought back to reality

“would you hate me?”

“never.” (jungkook fervently shakes his head no that his neck felt like it was unscrewed at one point)

“i would gaslight everyone and everything for you.” (yoongi snickers with his hands across his chest, actually thinking that he could also gaslight anything for you even if it’s an inanimate object)

“depends.” (jin carelessly shrugs as he tries to convince himself that you wouldn’t commit arson to his dream shared house with you and yoongi)

...

well they really didn’t let you finish ://

“thank you, but i didn’t mean it that way,” you snicker in thought at each of their answers, giving jungkook a grateful pat on his knee

yoongi almost scowls at that but he, along with jin, catches your incessant gaze

oh the question is meant for the two of them???

“would you hate me if i convince the two of you to split with me the cost of a canvas painting?”

a what

since wHEN are you into canvas paintings???

the two of them have their mouths slightly ajar and even jungkook’s joining in because even if he’s nOt included in this conversation, he’s also surprised???

“like an old abstract painting?” jin grimaces and therefore breaks the silence, blindly folding in his fluffy pancake mix to look at your reaction

“god, no,” you shudder already at the thought of an old painting with asbestos you can’t gauge the meaning of being hung at the large empty wall, “it’s for our dorm.”

.... oh?

they aren’t really against chipping in for an item that only yOU would benefit from, but it’s kinda exciting to think that all three of you are involved

“how big is this painting that you’re talking about?”

yoongi asks in deep thought, already thinking about nails and screws (which probably aren’t allowed) and the backup heavy-duty mounting tape

he’s curious already!!!! screw him!!!

“really?” your eyes considerably widen, looking at the teo of them, both shrugging at each other and that’s already your seal of approval!!! see!! you didn’t even have to plead :D

“A1 — that’s what the guy said. i found him on instagram!!”

yoongi narrows his eyes at you unironically, tch-ing at what you just said

“i don’t speak in barbecue sauce, y/n.”

.,.,.,...,. pls

jin snorts extra loudly because yoongi’s completely serious and not kidding at all when he only knows A1 as a goddamn brand of sauce instead of an actual measurement

“A1 means 23x33 inches in sizing, dumbass.”

the guy at the receiving end of chuckles only nods with newfound knowledge, already mapping it out

“what’s it about? i-i can chip in too if you’d like!!”

jungkook interjects sincerely, raising his hand out of classroom habit to which he sheepishly brings down

“it’s okay, koo. you don’t need to,” you reply back sincerely and effectively shut out the egging that yoongi and jin are giving him, something along the lines of “hey jungkook!! what if you pay for it whole, hm? you can come over for breakfast next time if you do.”

jungkook was really about to steal your phone and enter his card information in a sECOND if only you didn’t stop him

“the painting is to die for, y’know?” you hype it up as much as you could, holding jungkook’s hands in place so he can stop reaching for his wallet

:D

“it’s a painting of a sheep on a field, with the mountains behind it, that says atleast we’re under the same sky!!”

it’s pretty much safe to say that jin and yoongs were ready to lay down their money right then and there

neither of you can put a finger on it but it just tOUCHES your heart!! it’s a piece that pops up in your mind every now and then and feels like a fond memory while at it

“...and sent! quick too — he already gave me the payment confirmation.”

that’s nice!! not even five minutes after you sent your proof of payment and he already acknowledged it

the fact that it’s already paid for now aND is probably gonna get delivered within a matter of days is exciting, really

“i think i’d toss and turn in bed until that painting arrives,” yoongi yawns in admission, going into town with the powdered sugar on his pancakes that you physically had to stop him

“i’d save that painting first when there’s a fire,” jin snickers but it’s not that well-received, getting a pointed glare in return from yoongi, “fine. i’ll save y/n first and then the painting.”

this is your happy place :-)

your three favorite boys in the whole entire world in the sAME room!! and they’re not arguing!! there’s now dwelling in the past!!

just mediocre tolerance from yoongi and jin’s side, then half-giddiness and half-nervousness from jungkook’s side

“when it arrives, i’ll take a picture of the three of you and get it printed!”

kook offers and it earns him a ruffle on his hair, surprisingly from jin, that makes him almost chOke on the most delicious pancakes he’s ever tasted

“thank you, koo.”

jungkook’s getting used to this, actually

normally he’d expect a kiss on his cheek for his wonderful offer!! or maybe a hand on his thigh!! but he’s slowly starting to realize that you’re not always a physically affectionate lover

he’s admittedly the clingier out of the two of you but it’s okay!! right!!!!!!! it is :D

he’s sitting beside you right now on the couch anyway!! he’ll take that

yoongi, however, will nOT take it because that’s his spot and jungkook’s taking it away from him >:( he’s only noticed now out of the twenty minutes the four of you have been sitting here

he’s sneakily scraping off the powdered sugar from his pancakes and to the edge of his plate, ready to spill it on jungkook so he’d have an excuse of pushing him to the bathroom and take his spot beside you

just one more scrape and-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCKKKKKKKKKKKK-!!!!!!

literally everyone jolts with the abrupt knocking on your door and it even panics you a little

“w-who’s that?” jungkook fidgets on his seat and raises his feet on the cushions (no one can scold him bc everyone is also preoccupied) and his hand grips on your forearm out of instinct

“are you expecting anyone?” you ask jin because this may just be namjoon who’s rushing to get inside because students might see him

“no one,” he shakes his head and turns to yoongi, “this yours?”

yoongi shakes his head, his hand still clutching at his chest, “didn’t even order anything online these past two weeks.”

this is okay!! robbers don’t knock on the door, right? :-)

you make the initiative to stand up but you get tugged almost immediately by the three of them, shrugging them off as calmly as you could

“i’ll just see, alright?”

you peep on the keyhole and you relax immediately, just seeing a delivery guy with a huge package

you open the door and jungkook sputters of why the hell you would, about to skid towards you when-

“hoseok?”

is that-

is that jung hoseok??

jung hoseok as in your junior, the one who’s notoriously known for throwing the coolest parties ever?? to which he gets even the seal of approval from his seniors??

the same hoseok who threw the party wherein jungkook was ditched by jimin and you needed to walk him home? the one who threw the party wherein tae slipped outside and you needed to take him to the hospital??

tHAT hoseok????

he’s kinda cool for all of that actually

“Y/N???”

he’s just as surprised as you are, mouth actually dropping agape

the both of you are so surprised that neither of you seem to acknowledge the mammoth of a package that he’s holding

...

....

“oh my god, you’re the one who ordered my painting!!!”

hoseok actually leaps to hug you and it’s a miracle that you’re not knocked over with his sheer force, giddily jumping up and down as if embracing you is not enough

he pulls off before you could even poke at him, instead holding you by your shoulders and jostling you lightly now

jungkook’s watching the whole thing unfold and he’s still quite stuck on the couch, head tilting in confusion

why.... is hoseok.... hugging you.....

why........ are you letting him..... hug you

“oh my god!!! you’re the one!!!!! i-i thought no one would buy from me because i’m a small business and i don’t have a lot of works right now and my style is different but — yoongi!!!!”

hoseok attaches to yoongi next and the older guy just chuckles, patting him on the back

they’re not really close and no one really hugs their senior like that, most especially yoongi, but here they are

“let me guess, you’re one of the three who bought it, right?? y/n messaged me saying that she has two friends chipping in and asked me that if i could, add in some freebies!! and i did!!!”

man,, hoseok is quick

“we didn’t know you’re the one who made it,” you admit which gets a lot of nodding from both parties

“i didn’t know either that you guys were the one who bought it!” hoseok exclaims and turns his head to jin, “mr. kim!!! thank you so much!! you complete the trio, right?”

you and yoongi are bAFFLED at hoseok hugging seokjin, or rather mr. kim, aka an official of student affairs

what’s even more baffling is that jin doesn’t look surprised at all

“you two — i- uhm? i don’t-...”

“... hoseok’s my plug. our plug, actually.”

:O

hoseok doesn’t even look the least bit fazed, even nodding and laughing as he raises his hand

“i’m a business major!!”

ok wait maybe that does explain everything

jungkook’s so lost looking at the scene in front of him and frankly, he doesn’t know if he’s still included at this point

he’s frazzled when hoseok’s eyes slightly widen at the sight of him but later grin at him, looking back at you to wiggle his eyebrows

“and jungkook, is a stem major.”

it seems like no one but jungkook is surprised at hoseok’s sudden barging presence in the dorm

no one is batting an eye when he invites himself to stay and plop on the couch

“here, you can have mine.”

jungkook helplessly looks at you when you offer yOUR plate (that has one whole pancake left) to hoseok and leave him be

no one’s questioning him because after all, the three of you are busy unwrapping the package while he continues to explain

“what was i saying again? oh right!! i panicked when i saw the money transferred to my account because even if we were chatting, at first i was a littlE hesitant because like, bogus buyers amirite??” he speaks through a mouthful of pancakes, “and then you paid!! and i saw the address and tHEN i was really excited and like panicked? i didn’t want to get it shipped when you’re this near because that’s expensive!! and i wanted to thank the three of you personally!!”

“— which is why i sprinted all the way here!!”

that explains hoseok’s breathless and sweaty state, the whole tale of him bumping into the dean at one point and almost stomping on a pigeon making everyone entertained

everyone besides jungkook.

is it just him or is everyone’s eye twitching right now

is this his dorm? no. but does he feel like hoseok’s intruding, regardless if he lives in here or in the perspective of a fellow visitor? yes.

apparently, nONE out of the three of you seem to think so

because it’s all so good!! hoseok probably lives in your dorm too because why else would you give up your breakfast for him??

the three of you are actively fawning over the painting and jungkook’s just sO sure that it’s giving hoseok the biggest ego boost of his life ://

they just share a class or two, they aren’t really close anyways

hoseok’s the type to be intimidating and popular at the same time but surprisingly, he’s friendly in a way

ok maybe jungkook’s just getting a little over in his head rn

if he leaves, then it’s also hoseok’s time to leave!!!

he’s already practicing the words in his head

“come on hoseok, they’re the furthest thing away from being done at fawning. let’s walk together back to the dorms.”

he’s about to say it when-

“anyone have a headband i can borrow?”

hoseok asks aloud and effectively catches everyone’s attention, making you stand up in agreement

what the fuck is actually happening

jungkook watches you hand one of the headbands you wear during your games to hoseok, a guy you barely know, like it’s no big deal?????

that headband smells like your hair!!! the hair that he loves to bury his nose into and plays with!!!

that’s yours and you’re giving it to hIM?

jungkook’s stomach actually drops even if he just finished eating minutes ago, ina daze looking at hoseok putting it on his blonde hair

he doesn’t know what’s stemming from his heart nor what his tummy’s telling him, but jungkook doesn’t like it at all.

“i’m going home,” kook murmurs behind you who’s instructing yoongi and jin to level the painting some more, snaking his arm around your waist

“really? oh, okay. text me when you get home.”

you only sweetly smile at him and jungkook’s actually awaiting the offer of you walking him home, but it doesn’t come

that’s okay!

“bye. love you.”

he softly says yet it’s enough for everyone to hear, his hand still secured snugly on your waist

jungkook’s about to go for a kiss on your cheek because he’s sURE that both yoongi and jin would scowl at him if he took it any further, but he catches hoseok at the corner of his eye and it’s all out the door

he unexpectedly presses a chaste kiss on your lips and playfully drags out the mwah! at the end, much to the daggers your friends send him

that’s enough!! hoseok already saw — you’re taken by him. jungkook doesn’t need to worry now that hoseok knows :)

...

....

...... he may have spoken too soon

he’s already established that you’re taken by him, that’s great! even hoseok teases him when they see each other the next day

was that an ego boost? yes

what wasn’t an ego boost is seeing hoseok talking to him and parading the halls with your headband on!!

that’s yOUR headband!!! not his!!! what happened to merely borrowing it?

did he just happen to steal it from you, or did you just let him steal it from you?

:(

jungkook positively thinks that’s the end of this whole heart-clenching

hoseok has your headband but jungkook has you. it’s clear who’s actually winning in life

but god is jungkook wrong again

he texted you in the same morning on what you were doing since you had your classes cancelled for today with no professors coming in

going to brunch with hobi instead of sleeping all day. jin’s in the office and yoongi’s out on grocery duty. have fun w your classes :)

Hobi???

Uhm I literally just passed him in the halls two minutes ago

really? lmao that means he’s skipping class then

no because hold on

hoseok’s sKIPPING class to go to brunch with you?

you’re going to brunch with him???

HOBI?????

jungkook uncomfortably tucks his phone back into his pocket as class starts, chewing at his bottom lip

do you want him to skip classes so he could go to brunch with you?

better yet, is hoseok better than him because it’s no problem for him to skip classes??

now that he thinks about it, jungkook hasn't skipped even a single day of classes ever since freshman year

he used to take pride on his attendance but now he uh kinda wants a blank mark on his card actually

he could go to lengths of skipping classes if you asked him to!! he can!! of course he'll do that for you

but you don't ask him to and it's obvious that you only learned now how hoseok's able to meet you in the first place, but the reason behind it didn't seem to faze you

in fact, it looks like you're even amused

jungkook has to physically shake his head to get rid of his thoughts but that doesn't do anything

he's still thinking about you and hoseok during class.

he's trying not to dwell on it but it's difficult when he's always reminded of it

every time he comes over, the painting is GLARING at him and that's the reason jungkook just keeps his eyes on you for literally the whole time that he's there

your phone sometimes dings and it's a tiktok notification of hoseok sending you one

everything he does, hoseok and his outrageously blonde hair just seems to follow him

you had cat fur on the sleeve of your hoodie because you pet the campus cat awhile ago and jungkook was about to shriek because even that reminded him of the guy

all he's done this week is become bothered and frustrated to the point that even jimin, oftenly the most clueless and easy-going guy in the room, noticed it

"trouble in paradise?"

jimin's cool voice is the first thing that snaps him out of his anti-hoseok tirade in his mind, his eyes landing on his roommate lazily

it's actually jimin's red hair that makes jungkook look twice because when he saw him in the morning, he was still blonde

....,.,. blonde....?

"jimin?"

"hmm? am i right? is it rEALLY trouble in-"

"remember that time you ditched me in hoseok's party? or that time i made your paper because you forgot and you were hung-over and then you ended up getting an A?"

jimin's head tilts at jungkook's enumeration, blinking owlishly at him

".... yeah?"

"good," jungkook nods in acknwoledgement at jimin's recall, "because i think i'm gonna cash in the favors that you owe me."

:O

it's pouring

it hasn't rained in so long and it's raining sO hard that you might have to look for a candle later on

it was on the news anyway that it was gonna rain this hard but no one really expected that it'd be this hard!!

nonetheless, jungkook soothed your worries and said he'd come over because the two of you haven't seen each other in like three days

maybe it's just you but something feels off with jungkook

oddly, he's gotten a little bit more attached to you yet weirdly distant at the same time

for some reason, he asks a lot more questions too

just yesterday, he sent you a screenshot of a white polo, asked if it looked good, and proceeded to immediately purchase it once you said it looked nice

just because you don't frequently comment on what you notice, doesn't exactly mEAN you don't care about it

jungkook's a big boy!! an adult!! if he wants to say something to you, then he says it

he always has the words in his head, that much you know

but yOU, however.,.,.,

you really don't have the words right now

because as soon as you open the door, your eyes land on your boyfriend

your boyfriend in his usual hoodie who's been growing out his hair and is looking very much blonde and different

“you’re blonde?”

you rhetorically ask in shock and you're clueless to the fact that you look like a fish out of water, your hands unconsciously darting out to his chest

“hmm, you like it?”

jungkook hums and tries to keep the giddiness he feels at bay just seeing you look gobsmacked, your hands moving from his collarbones to his neck and finally, to his hair

you offer no answer because you find yourself kissing jungkook before you could even let him in and close the door

he mewls in satisfaction when you kiss him deeper and cup his cheeks, his hands finding no hesitance in pushing your bodies closer by the waist

"my handsome boy," you mumble at one point in the kiss, eternally grateful that the two of you are the only one in the dorm right now

jungkook preens at your attention, mumbling to your lips before he makes the move to kiss you determinedly

“you like me better than hoseok?”

in a single second, he doesn't feel you kissing back at all

he's so confused as he pulls away, dark brows, in contrast to his blonde hair, knitted in confusion

“quit it.”

there's no actual edge to your tone but you feel like it, an incoming realization starting to dawn on you

jungkook's oblivious to your boiling irritation, clueless to how the dots are connecting in your mind and how you're not sure on how to tackle them

“what did i do? i was just asking you if you like me better than him.”

he says nonchalantly and it's the tone that irks you — as if his seemingly harmless question didn't reveal what he really wanted to get at

“i’m with you, jungkook. has that not been established enough yet?”

your voice is still calm yet you trudge away from him, your boyfriend quick on his heels to trail behind you

“i mean you did kiss me on the mouth just now,” jungkook points out as if you weren't aware. “because i’m blonde just like hoseok.”

“oh my god."

it was just a strong hunch at first but hearing it first-hand from jungkook accelerates your sentiment for what he did even faster, your eyes rolling to the back of your head that rubs him the wrong way

he runs his hand through his hair out of habit, reminding you even more that it's bleached and blonde yet for all the wrong intentions

“is asking you so wrong? why are you getting defensive?”

you snicker at his inquiry, hands across your chest that just challenges him to do the same

“what’s wrong is that you dyed your hair blonde for no other reason besides the fact that hoseok is!”

now that jungkook hears it from you, his eyes narrow

“can’t i just be inspired?” he snaps, “can’t i be inspired to look this way because you look at him in that way?”

what?

wHAT????

“what way, jungkook?”

seemingly caught in a blindspot, he tries to backtrack

“i-i’m not-“

you're having none of it and to be honest, you're not even sure if it just pure anger that you're feeling at the moment

“you spent hours in a salon, is that it?" you prod him and that makes jungkook avoid your eyes, huffing under his breath, "got jimin to help you out?" that actually hits a nerve on him and makes his eyes zero in on you with much annoyance, "what did you go through just because you’re so inspired?”

“you look at hoseok like you’re in love with him!”

“i’m not in love with hoseok, jungkook!" you articulate every word but even that seems to anger jungkook further, "why would you even think of that?”

“because you’re only supposed to look at me that way. y-you’re not supposed to go to brunch with a guy alone when you just met him. you’re not supposed to lend him your headbands when he can just buy them! you’re not supposed to do the things you’d do with me with other guys!”

“he’s my friend. just like yoongi and jin are. i can do these things with them but that doesn’t mean i love you any less.”

jungkook rolls his eyes and even your profession of love doesn't budge him at all

“there you are with your guy friends again.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you feel him treading to dangerous territory but you stand your ground regardless, your voice shaking when you add

“yoongi and jin came into my life way before you did, jungkook.”

it was to simply remind him but he feels as if it's out of spite, looking at you pointedly before patronizingly chuckling

“i know. i can never win with you, that’s it, right? just because you’re older than me by a year and you have friends that want to beat me up — you always win!”

his voice raises by the end of his sentence and it's his words that make you grind your teeth together and your nostrils flare, lip dangerously close to trembling

“i’m sorry if i’m jealous and i don’t know what to do because this is the first time i’ve become a boyfriend, alright?"

jungkook throws his head back and gestures to you, shaking his head while he's so close to crying because of his pent-up insecurity

“i’m sorry that i don’t know what to do and you always do because you probably had like ten boyfriends before me, right?? i’m so inexperienced and new to you that you can’t even stand me and-“

..

there's pin-drop silence in the room.

jungkook only realizes his words belatedly and the weight that they carry, eyes in a stand-still on you who looks the furthest thing from being appeased at him

you're actually hurt.

“how dare you, jungkook.”

your fists are balled to the point that the tips of your fingers feel numb from the pause in circulation, but oddly enough, jungkook feels the most remorseful when he sees your figure deflate and therefore relax

“don’t come home, it’s pouring. or go back to your dorm, whatever. i don’t care.”

he's planted by his feet but he realizes to move when you're walking out of your own dorm, prying away his hand from your elbow

“you can sleep in my room. i’m sleeping out tonight.”

.

.

.

part two

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

[bibliocratic]

muddle along or: the Pokemon / TMA crossover I’ve been promising @speakerunfolding for AGES jonmartin early S4

Jon considers the knapsack left for him.

Exhaustion is already feasting on any clarity he might have obtained in the near quiet. His body stiff, unused to the casual labour of his bones. The storage room, its shelves overburdened, the air vents popping like cracked knuckles, has gained nothing in his absence except a resurgence of dust and, in a dismal corner, a pile of boxes and a suitcase. A pathetic truncated shrine to his thirty odd years of living.

They moved his possessions here, when his rent went unpaid, when his water bills and council tax and internet payment reminders piled up like demanding snowdrift on his mucky welcome mat. Mutely, he glances over the hastily sellotaped boxes that now form his packaged-up life with all the distance that six months of bad dreams have afforded him.

He wonders who packed up his kitchenware, despairing at the mismatched cutlery harvested from student halls and charity-shop finds; clucked their teeth at the bread freckling mouldy in the barren landscape of his fridge; folded his clothes neatly into the suitcase he always kept stuffed under his unmade bed, even pairing up his socks; who took the books off his shelves in the belief he might thumb through them again one day.

He wonders if it was Martin.

Basira gave him the knapsack some hours ago. When he’d found some semblance of normalcy in the dull weight of a sandwich coating his stomach, dressed in clothes that now hang like rags off a coat hanger, sat at the table in the otherwise empty staff room with the heat of a cup of tea cactus-prickling his palms.

“He asked if you’d look after them,” she’d said. The strap of the bag held securely in the jaw of her Absol. “While he’s – well, you know…” She waves an exasperated done-with-it hand that manages to express a multitude of emotions that refract and merge like the morphing shades of a bruise. “Doing whatever the hell it is he’s doing. Or he thinks he’s doing.”

Jon wishes he knew.

He sits cross-legged in front of the storage room door, a sharp-boned barricade, thrumming like a struck tuning fork with the thought that even here, he will not be safe.

Gardevoir is a heavy weight against his shoulder. She’s quieter than he remembers, solemn and sombre in her new form. She used to demand being lifted up when she was Ralts, her flat red horns digging into his chest and leaving impressions, scrabbling down to shelter half-behind his legs when strangers approached. He left for the Unknowing and she’d been Kirlia, her face set and her cries insistent and infuriated, trying to push her Pokeball into his hand to make him bring her with them. Tim hadn’t asked where she was, when they all piled into the rental car, Houndoom taking up one of the seats in the back but snarling when Basira suggested putting her in her ball.

Jon doesn’t know when she evolved. It pains him, a dull-knife strike of thought, another wave against his tide-bashed flood barriers, to have slept through such a moment in her life when every other milestone they shared together.

“Now is a good a time as any, I suppose?” he asks her. His voice traces above a whisper. His Abra has calmed now, drained down from a difficult and teary reunion, and is now breathing deep and slow, curled into the port of his crossed legs. His three-fingered hands are still clenching the fabric of Jon’s shirt.

Gardevoir nods. Then gives him a nudge and a look when it seems as though he’s stalling, when he must be bleeding out apprehension like watercolours seeping through paper.

“Can’t get anything past you now, huh,” he says. She smiles, fond and he manages a short smile back, and it is almost, almost like it was before.

The bag is old, its original function probably for a laptop of some kind. The plasticky outer skin of it has rubbed away, flaking to mesh at the edges, the piping worn down to wires. Jon folds back the front of the bag, and inside there are four Pokeballs, the basic and cheapest red-and-white models. Jon had worked a thankless summer job at a beach-side amusement arcade to save up the money to get Ralts a customised ball, and had done similar when Abra came along a few years later.

To the side of the Pokeballs, ziplocked and labelled, there is a small forest of freezer bags bulging with berries and treats and care equipment. In a plastic pocket, there are precisely written instructions pertaining to each Pokemon and their requirements, and Jon’s throat tightens unexpectedly to see Martin’s looping joined-up handwriting, to see words that seem penned by someone who doesn’t expect to be coming back.

Gardevoir makes a low noise next to him. Her arm alighting on his, a solid weight, grounding. Jon clears his throat and takes out the Pokeball nearest the top, pushing the button on the front so the size balloons to fill his palm.

Most people have one Pokemon, maybe two, unless they’re involved in competitive breeding and training. When Abra came along, he remembers his gran remarking on the upkeep, how it would be his responsibility to feed and care for and train them, and it hadn’t been the cheapest venture but Jon had born the expense gladly.  It doesn’t surprise him that Martin has amassed so many in comparison to the norm.

At lunch one day years ago, the weather nipping frost-touched, they’d sat outside a cramped cafe because there’d been no seats indoors, and Martin had confessed that he was always taking them in. Thinking back, Jon knows that Martin was attempting to keep the conversation buoyant, coaxing him away from deeper, darker waters. Jon remembers being irritated, sore-eyed with sleeplessness, his spine strung with paranoia.

“My lost causes, Mum called them,” Martin had said, and his voice had tried for a levity that landed without cushioning. He’d torn off a bit from the end of his panini to feed a hopeful-looking Pidove pecking expectantly around their feet. The cause of the conversational turn, Martin’s newest acquisition, had sat grumpily mewling on the other man’s knee, wriggling and sniping as he tried to feed them some medication he’d got from the vet. Despite himself, Jon had been distracted from miring thoughts of Gertrude by watching Martin’s charade unfold, the man making a show of giving up with a theatrical sigh to scratch the Nidoran behind the ears in a show of defeat, being careful of their spikes. The Nidoran had headbutted his hand whenever his motions slowed to stopping, and Martin had used the distraction to fold a chorizo slice he’d pulled from his panini around the pill, which the Nidoran had happily snaffled from his fingers, gulping it down before returning to demand affection.

“They’ll be all healed up within the week,” Martin had continued, plastering over the continued lull with his chattering. “I’ve taken in a few Nidorans before, they tend to be pretty hardy.” He had scratched under the Nidoran’s chin as his words ebbed with the nudging of an undemanding tide.

Jon had picked at his sandwich as Martin had fold him about hiding Pidgeys and Swablus in an old shoebox under his bed, lined with the nesting material of some of his t-shirts donated to the cause. A chipped-edge bowl borrowed from the kitchen brimming with water and his own early team of Pokemon keeping them company while their wings healed in their splints before they were strong enough to leave again.

These four Pokeballs in the knapsack aren’t just random strays. They’re Martin’s Pokemon. The ones that never left him, the ones that he’s raised and doted upon and taken worriedly to the Pokecentre over every cough and sniffle and fever.

And for the meantime, they’re Jon’s.

Jon presses the release button on the first ball.

There is a chittering surprised coo as an Oddish materialises in a buzz of light and reforming matter.  They reform to stand a little higher than Jon’s ankle, only to fold their leaves half over their eyes at the unkindness of the halogen strip light. They totter when they take a step, tumbling to sitting with an affronted noise before, with a determined heft, they rock themselves up to standing again. Jon’s seen Martin’s Oddish before, approaching every walk around the assistant’s office space like a tightrope. Tim had bought them a little plant pot as a novelty Christmas gift once, and they’d unironically loved it, hopping into it cosily and getting specks of soil all over Martin’s desk.

Their leaves are poked through with ragged little holes, like they’ve been nibbled away, the green tinged in places to a sickly yellow. In the bag there is a vial of luminous blue medicine, complete with dropper and application instructions. It’s a stress thing, he dimly remembers Martin had once explained to him. It’s like an eczema, of a sort, that afflicts Grass-types, but it affects Oddish’s balance when it flares up.

The Oddish looks at Jon. They don’t have a neck as such, so they lean their whole bulb-like body backwards on their stumpy legs to study Gardevoir, who gives a reassuring blink. They glance around the storage room and its uninspired treasures of boxes and the unpromisingly weak-seeming metal frame of the cot, with a fretful shake of their leaves. They’re expecting to see someone else.

“Hello,” Jon says. He clears his throat, attempting to present a friendly face, to avoid the grimace he senses forming at his discomfort, his presentation to a critical audience that is already finding him wanting. “I’m… well, I’m Jon. You’ve probably seen me before, I’m um… I’m a f-friend of Martin’s. He’s, well, he’s not here at the moment. But he asked me to look after you. While he’s – he’s away.”

Oddish blinks their beady round red eyes. Their leaves wave uncertainly with the lazy swish of palm fronds. They coo again, a longer sound, plaintive and stretched out in melancholy. They take the opportunity to look around again, a full-body swivel that has them unbalanced, but Gardevoir leans down with a careful hand to steady them upright.

Jon watches them amble off to study their surroundings. Every so often crying out in a searching noise. Gardevoir keeps an eye on them as they rootle around in one of the boxes they can reach.

The next few releases are equally unsuccessful. Skitty reforms only to barrel under the cot as a pink-and-white blur, slinking further back with his tail swishing furiously whenever Jon addresses him. One undamaged ear twitches anxiously. The next Pokemon fails to materialise at all, refusing to leave their ball.

This was a mistake. Martin should have known better, known him enough to see that he would be no good at this, his skills in offering comfort atrophied. He can barely take care of himself, these days. Never mind additional charges who are scared, who need reassurance that is rendered rusty in his throat.

He reaches out to cradle the last ball in his cupped palms. He knows who is inside. The youngest of Martin’s acquisitions, and as far as Jon was aware, full-on adverse to getting inside a Pokeball. Their favoured mode of travel was Martin, using him as a climbing frame while he attempted to work, kicking their little feet against his forehead, clinging giggly to his mop of hair to get a better view, squealing shrill and disruptive and delighted when Martin would playfully shake his head to rock them. He thinks with the uncertainty that memory offers him, that Sasha had loved them, lifted them and pretending to throw them while they chattered and babbled, snuck them berries when Martin wasn’t looking. Jon has paid ear to more than one lecture from Martin on nutrition and proper feeding times and sugar levels. They might have played with Sasha’s own Pokemon, like they had tottered after Houndour’s short and wagging tail when she was out of her ball, like they had ran after Skitty to join in games, but that memory has been scratched from recollection like initials scored out of tree bark.

They were by nature vocal, rambunctious, unthinking and unheedful of danger, a child really, and Martin had been forever apologising when Jon would find them where they weren’t meant to be, carrying them back cautiously and carefully to Martin’s fretful hands. He thinks Martin had thought that they had irritated him. It hadn’t been that. They had been so small, smaller than they should have been for their species, the runt of some litter abandoned or lost by their parent or cracked and emerging blinking from their egg over-early. They had been so curious, and the world of the archives had grown increasingly unsafe around them. Jon had worried, in his own poorly expressed way.

He presses the button, and aims at the ground. Martin’s Togepi manifests in a fizz of red light and sound crackling like champagne.

They turn around with a confused noise.

Jon gets the chance to voice an awkward, low-pitched ‘hello’ before they take one look at him and their face clenches upset, breath starting to bubble with sobs.

“Oh, oh, nonono, hey,” Jon says, scooping them up into his hands. Abra is dislodged, wakes up startled and teleports a few feet away with a ‘pop’ of displaced air. “It’s… nonono, shush, it’s alright.”

Big messy tears fall out of screwed up eyes. Hitching sobs lengthen into wails. Jon looks frantically at Gardevoir as he rocks and shushes the bawling Pokemon against his chest in a way Martin was so much better at.

Martin would know what to do, what to say. How all this could work out for the best. But Martin isn’t here.

Jon’s own eyes dampen.

“Shshshsh,” he croaks thickly. “It’s – it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the worst of the tears. He strokes the top of Togepi’s head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Jon repeats.

Many hours later, Jon wakes up, cotton-mouthed and his back vengeful for the position he’s slept in. His legs, still crossed, have degraded to numbness that he’ll pay for as soon as he wants to stand. In his lap, he sees the matryoshka doll set up that’s occurred, Togepi exhaling with little whistling breaths into Abra’s chest, Abra’s face planted against Jon’s shirt. Skitty has emerged from his defensive fort under the cot to coil into a ball of heat, curled up in the crook of Abra’s overhanging tail. Gardevoir is half-awake in that dozing but alert way she has, and she must have turned off the light in the room because it’s dark except for the emergency glow from the fire-exit sign that casts the walls and floor in an unsettling green. Jon sees the husk of an opened Pokeball, the shadow of something small and yellow crouched on Gardevoir’s shoulder, and something inside him eases, just a little bit.

Oddish is looking up at him from the floor. Jon moves the only hand he has that’s not squashed under Abra, and when he sets it down they alight with an unsteady gait and he transfers them to the higher terrain of his knee. He rubs a careful finger along their leaves until they sit, their head nodding as they struggle to stave off sleep, although they still glance around with uncertain eyes.

The room has dropped colder. Oddish shivers along with Jon.

“I know,” Jon says. “I miss him too.”

[mrs-harkness]

Ocean Eyes (Part 2)

Ocean Eyes (Part 1)

Pairing: Tammy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Parts: Part 1

Taglist: @peggycarter-steverogers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow​ @millysmango​

A/n: Glad you guys are liking Tammy. She’s fun to write for, because I imagine her having a bit of a wild side ;) I’m thinking there will probably only be 5 parts, because I would like to get started on Delia’s, but things are just really busy with my new job! Always, thanks for the patience and love!

"I'm gonna kinda miss having you at the apartment everyday."

Sarah's voice ripped you away from the window, lost in your own empty thoughts. You smiled at her.

"I will miss seeing you every day, but I will not miss sleeping on your couch. It's lumpy. You really need a new one dude," you said, snickering.

"No way! My couch has got character, thank you."

"Sarah, I found a pack of fun dip from 1967 in the cushions."

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, but shut it. She gave you a side glare, trying to keep her eyes on the road while letting you see her wrath, as she called it. You laughed, it filling the car.

"Don't worry Sarah-Bee, I'll come visit you on my off days," you said, patting her leg.

You guys pulled into Tammy's huge driveway to find her and the kids waiting for you on the doorstep, standing there like a Home and Garden's ad. Tammy smiled and waved as well as her two smallest children. The oldest boy was obviously forced to stand there and looked like he was ready to be released.

You stepped out of the car and the family walked towards you. The little girl ran ahead of them all, nearly leaping to you.

"Hi! My name is Keri! You wanna play?" she asked, immediately taking your hand and tugging on it.

Tammy reached forward and put her hand on Keri's shoulder, giggling.

"Hold on sweetheart. She just got here and needs to get settled. You guys will have plenty of time to play. She lives here with us now," she said, never breaking eye contact with you.

You felt the blush creep onto your face. You weren't positive, but there seemed to be  a glint in Tammy's eyes, as if she saw it. You tore your eyes away from hers and looked back down at the little girl, smiling. She smiled back, grabbing onto her mothers hand to hold it and bring it close to her face.

Tammy cleared her throat and pushed the two boys forward. The little one had a mischievous look about him and the older one was just uninterested completely.

"These are my two men, Derek and Jeremy," Tammy said.

"I'm Derek! I'm named after my dad. He doesn't live here anymore!" the younger one chirped.

Everyone shot him a look, but he remained blissfully unaware at the fact of his oversharing. The oldest though, seemed more than angry, and reached over and slapped his younger brother in the ear.

"Stupid! You don't say that shit!"

"Jeremy! Watch your mouth and leave your brother alone," Tammy said, moving him to where he  was looking her in the face. He seemed to growl and jerk away. He sulked off towards the house.

You saw the concern on Tammy's face. He must not have been handling the divorce so well. Your heart ached for the boy, even though he seemed a little bit like a dick. Tammy sighed and turned back to you.

"Kids," she said, trying to chuckle and brush it off.

"Well! How about we get Y/n and her stuff inside and get her welcomed home?" Tammy asked the two little ones.

They both cheered with the excitement only small children seemed to have and ran to Sarah's car to help grab the boxes and suitcases that were in the back. Tammy came up behind you, placing her hand on the small of your back. You jumped a bit, feeling heat spread out through your body. Tammy leaned forward to whisper in your ear, but all you could manage to think was how good she smelled.

"Don't worry about Jeremy, give him time to warm up to you. He misses his dad, but he's a good kid," she whispered, her breath hot on the shell of your ear.

You swallowed and nodded, forcing a smile. She brought her face into your view, just inches from yours. She smiled and winked and her fingers seemed to drag as she brushed her hand from your back and walked to the car to help get your things.

Get your shit together Y/N. She was talking about her kids emotional state and all you could think of was her perfume!

You scolded yourself and went to help the family unload your old life to officially start your new one.

When Tammy had said you would have the entire attic and your own bathroom, you thought you would have a maybe enough room for a twin bed and a dresser, maybe a desk and a bathroom that probably had a shower and not much else. You were very wrong.

Your new bedroom was bigger than Sarah's entire apartment, with lush carpet and crown molding. The bed was big and plush with a down comforter that felt like a cloud and smelled like cherry blossom. You not only had a 8 drawer dresser, but a walk in closet that could hold your entire wardrobe and still have 98% of it be completely empty. There were shelves filled with books and free space that Tammy said you could put whatever you like on.

The desk was a solid piece of white wood that seemed like it would cost the same as a down payment on a car. Your bathroom felt straight out of a high class suite with a huge tub, amazing walk in shower, and not just one sink, but two. There was even a wall length mirror. But your favorite part of the whole house was the balcony. You had your own balcony. A set of french doors lead out to it and you knew you would have the perfect view to watch the sun rise over the trees in the morning.

This morning you were waking up on a smelly, yellow polyester couch to the sound of street construction and Sarah singing Taylor Swift as she burnt breakfast. Now, you were overlooking an amazing view of a beautiful, quiet neighborhood from your very own penthouse with an amazing job and the most beautiful boss you could have ever imagined.

You took a deep breath of the crisp night air. You were exhausted from unpacking and getting to know the kids and were looking forward to just laying in your new bed and dosing off when you heard a knock at your door. You had to jog from outside and across the room to reach the door, expecting to see one of the kids. Instead Tammy stood in front of you, smiling.

"Getting settled in okay?" she asked.

You smile and nodded, stepping aside to welcome her in. She walked in and looked around. There wasn't much difference, but you had put out some of your personal items and pictures. It would take some time, but it did feel a little bit more like yours after a couple of hours of work.

"Looks nice. More lived in than it has ever been. You've made it homey," she said, her voice warm.

"I hope that is okay," you said, unsure why you felt so insecure about her opinion. She whipped around to look at you.

"Of course! That's what I want more than anything. For you to make this your home. I know this is your job, but I want you to like it here," she said, stepping closer.

Your breath got caught in your throat again, and you forced yourself to breathe normally. You saw the corner of Tammy's mouth twitch, a tiny smirk showing for just a second. You brushed your hair away from your face and cleared your throat. It was becoming your signature.

"I definitely like it here. Don't worry. You and the kids are great. The room is amazing, I've never lived somewhere so nice before. And dinner was great. Its been a really long time since I sat down and got to eat together with a family."

Tammy's face softened a bit at the last bit, and while you could see curiosity in her eyes, she didn't ask any further. There was a moment of silence before Tammy got the conversation back on track.

"Well I'm glad you liked dinner and are getting settled. I got the kids in bed already and was actually wondering if you would like to come down stairs and have a glass of wine with me? Just you and I, so we could get to know each other more as friends rather than boss and employee."

You stood there, smiling, just staring at her. You must have been standing there for longer than you realized in silence because Tammy cocked an eyebrow, confused by your silence. You tried to recover like you were thinking, but you really couldn't save yourself here.

"Oh! Yeah! Sure! I'd love to!" you said, your voice a little too high pitched. Tammy giggled and nodded, heading back towards the door.

"Get in your jammies and meet me down stairs. I'll be waiting," she said as she closed the door behind her.

You released the breath you had been holding, your whole body relaxing. You didn't realize how tense you were. You were going to have to learn how to function around Tammy or you probably wouldn't have this job for long. Tammy seemed to find it cute for the time being, but once it stopped just seeming like you were awkward and nervous about a new job, it would be pretty obvious it was a bit more. The nanny crushing on her boss was so cliché to begin with, never mind how problematic it would be in this situation.

You got dressed in your nice pair of pajamas, not wanting to walk down stairs in a ratty t-shirt and shorts. It was mainly dark in the house, but the kitchen was completely lit, guiding you down the stairs and towards Tammy who worked on a wine cork.

Her pajamas were silk and red, hanging off her frame in a way that showed a bit of skin depending how she moved. The shorts barely covered her butt and you felt like you were being tested. You would make sure to keep your eyes either on Tammy's face or at the wall behind her because you were not going to make things weird.

Tammy smiled when she saw you and you swore she looked you up and down, but you just kept your eyes forward.

"Don't you look cute," Tammy said, popping the cork out of the wine bottle.

You sat on the stool at the kitchen island and watched as Tammy poured two glasses and handed one to you. You took a sip and were taken back by how strong it was. You were going to have to be careful or you would be gone rather quickly.

Tammy took a big sip of hers and smiled, licking the red liquid off her lips. You felt yourself cry on the inside. You wanted nothing more to spend alone time with Tammy, but you really wished you had gone to bed.

"So, tell me about the tree branch," she said, taking a smaller sip this time.

You looked up at her, confused.

"Huh?"

Tammy laughed, pointing to your hair.

"You said this afternoon you would tell me how you got the twig stuck in your hair. You also mentioned something about promising you bathed?" she said, raising her eye brows up as she twirled her wine glass with a smile that spread across her face.

You laughed and felt some of the tension leave your body. This was just a normal conversation and your boss really was just trying to get to know you and make it a more comfortable situation for the both of you.

"See what happened was, I got an Uber into the neighborhood but asked the driver to drop me off at the gate so that way you wouldn't see me get out of this particular car because it looked like it drove straight out of 'Dude, Where's My Car' and I honestly didn't want you to associate me with weed and old pizza."

"First impressions are important," she said, extending her wine glass towards you.

"Exactly. So I started walking but because I have never been here before, I got lost. So I called Sarah and she told me the way to your house, but if I took that way I would be late. So she told me, if I cut through the backyard of the house I was in front of and walked through the trees, I would actually be at the back of your house, so I found the houses fence."

"You snuck onto their property?" Tammy asked, her eyes lighting up. She leaned onto the counter and her pajamas moved, revealing her bra. You kept your eyes on hers though.

"I don't think its considered sneaking if the old woman who lives there sends her yappy dog after you for disrupting her yoga session as she swears at you. I ran to the picnic table at the edge of the fence and threw myself over it as I tried to convince her I really was a nice girl before complimenting the home I had just trespassed into, and dropped into the woods and ran so fast I'm surprised I didn't die."

At this point, Tammy was doubled over, cackling.

"I'm gonna pee," she muttered, crossing her legs as she laughed. You laughed along with her, Tammy's giddiness being contagious. You looked at her as she met your eyes and just looked at you as you both came down from your laughter. You smiled as you took a sip of your wine. You were glad you hadn't gone to bed.

It felt like minutes, but you and Tammy stayed up for four hours talking about life, your interests, your childhood. Everything seemed fuzzy and warm because you were both on your fourth glass and you couldn't remember exactly when you both had moved to the couch, but that is where you both found yourself.

"So when I had Keri, I was utterly exhausted. My husband was home with me for the first four days after we brought her home, but he left on a two week work trip after that and I was alone with three kids, two of which were under two."

You shook your head. Her husband sucked. You didn't like him. You didn't know him, but you didn't like him.

"So when Keri was 9 days old, I had to take Derek to the doctor for an ear infection. Jeremy was five at the time so he was literally everywhere, Derek was screaming, and Keri was just sleeping in her car seat. We got Derek looked at, got the prescription and left. We were halfway to the pharmacy when I felt like I had forgot something."

You covered your mouth, stifling the drunk giggle starting to come from your mouth. Tammy hit you on your shoulder.

"I would like to remind you I was basically a single mother of three kids and sleep was not a thing. But I forgot Keri, in the doctors office. Just left without her! Right when I noticed, a nurse from the office called me and I was just crying on the phone all the way there. The nurses tried to console me but that was definitely one of my worst mom moment so far. She still doesn't know that happened. Not sure she ever will."

You both laughed that kind of deep laugh that if you weren't careful, would choke you. You laughed and bent over, accidentally falling over and right into Tammy's lap. It took you a moment to realize you had done it, but Tammy noticed immediately.

She stared at you, but not with a look of discomfort on her face, but something else. You immediately pushed yourself back into a sitting position, your flush ten times worse due to the wine it your system. Tammy smiled and looked away, sighing.

"You know Y/N, I'm so happy you get to be here, with us. Not just for the kids, but for me too."

You looked at her, unsure what to say. You watched as she scooted closer to you, frozen. She brushed the hair that had fallen in your face to behind your ear. Her hand lingered on your cheek and you felt her thumb run against the edge of your jaw. You were sure it was visible how hard you swallowed and how you chest rose and fell rapidly.

She smiled and her eyes flicked down. She looked you over and hummed before pulling back.

"We are going to feel like shit in the morning if we don't get to bed. Especially because Keri and Derrek like to wake up at the ass crack of dawn."

You smiled at that and it caused Tammy to chuckle. You helped one another up and walked up the stairs. Tammy stopped at her door, but didn't go in. You climbed the stairs to the third floor, but felt Tammy starring at you. You turned around to see her leaning against her doorframe, her face dreamy.

"Goodnight Y/N. I'm happy you're here."

With that Tammy winked, and pushed open her door, stepped into the dark room, and closed it slowly behind her. You seemed to float up the stairs and straight into your bed, the soft plush mattress welcoming you. You drifted off to sleep with that warm fuzzy feeling of wine tingling through out your body and Tammy's smiling floating around in your head.

[weepylucifer]

Tosses another dinluke at you. This one’s about caring for each other

Luke awakens from uneasy sleep filled with nightmares, and immediately can tell that today is going to be terrible.

The occasional phantom pain in his wrist, that he can take. The old, flaring ache, the strange feeling that the hand is still there, which somehow makes both wearing and not wearing the prosthetic feel uncomfortable - well, it’s a drag, but it’s only one part of his body. With meditation to aid him, he finds he can usually sequester it off, away from the rest of him, and go through his day more or less like normal. But sometimes, each and every scar caused by the Force lightning clamors in pain, especially when he’s been dreaming about how he got them. This is the worst, because he hasn’t found a good way to cope with it yet. He can’t make the pain stop, and it’s driving him up the walls.

There’s no way he can teach his padawan like this.

Fortunately, Grogu’s father is visiting, and will probably be more than happy to entertain the kid for a day.

Luke hasn’t gotten the measure of the Mandalorian yet. He talks little, projects an aura of intimidation, being covered in armor all over like that, but he seems very attached to his child, so attached that Luke reckoned upon getting Grogu that breaking their bond would do a lot more harm than good. He’s come over for a few visits to far, and he practically curls over Grogu like a loth-cat over its young. But Luke doesn’t exactly know anything about him besides that.

Also, it’s dawned on Luke that he knows nothing about Mandalorians. He knows Boba Fett is one, but that’s pretty much it.

So he’s not exactly comfortable admitting his plight to the man. What if he perceives it as weakness? So when he emerges from his bedroom to greet him, he is brief, almost curt, making himself speak through the pain.

“I’m sorry, but there’ll be no lesson today. Can you just watch Grogu for me? I’m... something else has come up.”

The Mandalorian looks... like an expressionless helmet on a suit of armor. But his voice betrays some surprise when he says, “Um, yeah. Sure. Not a problem.”

He’s justified in his surprise; Luke has never cancelled Grogu’s lessons before. “Thanks,” Luke says and repeats, “Sorry this is on such short notice.”

The last thing he sees before beating his retreat back to his room is Grogu cooing and reaching a little hand out towards him in concern, doubtlessly feeling in the Force that something is amiss with Luke. He closes the door but can still hear the Mandalorian reassuring the kid to the best of his ability, “Sorry, buddy, your bajuri seems to be busy. No floating stuff today.”

Grogu emits the sad coo again.

“Hey, it’s okay. Wanna go to the pond and look for frogs?”

...

“We can take the Phoenix over there.”

A happy squeak tells Luke that the plan has met approval.

“You like flying with the jetpack, huh? Yeah, me too.”

Their voices recede, Grogu babbling happily and his father talking back pretending to understand him, and then the temple is silent. It dawns on Luke that the Mandalorian is attractive, the juxtaposition between the gleaming armored fighter and the father so gentle with his kid intriguing. The thought is brutally cut short by another sharp flash of searing pain.

He whines and flings himself onto his bed, curling up and tugging at his hair with both hands, hoping beyond reason that the pain in his scalp will distract him from the pain in his everywhere else.

--

Luke has been trying on and off to meditate or at least nap for several hours, when he hears a knock at the door. It can only be Mando.

“Um. Master Jedi?”

The Mandalorian has never asked Luke’s name, maybe he reckons Luke goes by his self-assumed title, just like he seems perfectly comfortable going by Mando. Yes?, Luke wants to ask, but he’s scared it’ll come out an undignified whimper.

“I made some dinner for the kid,” the Mandalorian continues. Is it dinner already? “I thought maybe you’d want some, so I’ll leave it out here.”

Luke blinks at the door. He wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, it’s, ah. Aruetiise usually find our cooking too spicy. So I made some bread to go with it, it. Helps. With the spice. I used some stuff from your storage for it, hope that’s okay.”

The silence persists.

“Putting it down now. Okay. Good luck with your... Jedi business.”

There’s a sound of, indeed, something being placed on the floor, then footsteps walking away.

Luke opens the door. There is a tray of food waiting for him. An amazingly delicious smell wafts from it and his stomach growls loudly, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten today.

So this man can cook. This man baked bread for him. Luke tries to imagine him, in the kitchen, doing that. Maybe he put Luke’s apron on over the armor. The thought makes him giggle for the first time today. Truly Grogu’s father is full of surprises.

--

It’s already getting dark out when Luke carries his empty plate back to the temple’s little kitchen. He finds Mando there with Grogu on his lap, as always in complete armor, simply watching as Grogu plays with a small silver ball.

Luke clears his throat. “Hi,” he says eloquently and carries his plate to the sink.

The Mandalorian nods in greeting. “All done in there?”

“Not exactly.” Somehow, Luke can feel Mando refocus on him, even through the helmet. He knows he must look rumpled, his hair mussed, his face drawn, and using one of his robes as a shawl. He wishes he had the ability to suffer more attractively, or at least the energy to make himself up a bit.

He sighs and sits down at the table with them. Somehow he feels like, as fair payment for the meal, the Mandalorian deserves his honesty in return. “Full disclosure, I wasn’t doing... Jedi stuff in my room. I just... I’m unwell.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Mando’s head tilts towards Grogu. It becomes apparent why when he asks, “Anything catching?”

“No. No, Grogu will be fine.” Luke folds his hands on the tabletop. Well, he’s already at it being honest. “Do you ever get the feeling of... old scars, hurting again? Like they’re new?”

“Your hand?” the Mandalorian asks. Ah, of course, he’s perceptive, he’s noticed the fake hand.

“Not just the hand. Everywhere. All over.” Luke grits his teeth as his nerves alight again along the lightning patterns. Maker, he hates this. It’s like the shrivelled old prune continues to torture him from beyond the grave.

“All over?” Mando repeats. The helmet’s modulator dulls emotion, but Luke guesses it’s concern he hears.

“Yeah. Look.” Following a sudden impulse, he gets up and shucks his robe, unbuttons his shirt and slips that off too. “Here, see?” He turns himself this way and that, catching the warm lamplight. “And yes, they go all the way down.”

Helmet or no, he can hear the Mandalorian’s breath catch. His hand, the one that’s not keeping Grogu from tumbling off his lap, twitches... rises... reaches out... Luke keeps himself very still. For a breath or two, he thinks that if the Mandalorian were to touch him, trace the lightning bolts on his torso with his gloved hand, then he might feel better. Might be soothed.

The hand is lowered to the table again as if embarrassed. Luke lets out his breath and tries not to slump in disappointment. “I’ve never seen scarring like that before,” the Mandalorian says. “And I’ve seen my fair share.”

“Force lightning,” Luke explains, before remembering that his companion knows nothing about the Force. “A Sith torture technique.”

“You were tortured?” Mando asks, then amends, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Luke sits back down, hugging his knees to his chest. “Pffft. It’s not like I’m not already thinking about it.” He rubs his hands down his arms at another shiver of pain. “The Emperor did this. When I went to confront him on the second Death Star.”

“It was you on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks.

“Yeah. The Emperor wanted me to join the dark side. I refused. I had no idea he’d just start frying me with lightning. I had no idea this was something the Force could even do.”

“But then you... killed the Emperor?” The Mandalorian is clearly guessing, and Luke finds himself astonished that there’s someone out there still who doesn’t know the whole Luke Skywalker Saga.

“I did not,” he says. “My father killed the Emperor. All I did was lie on the ground and be tortured.” He picks at his wrist where the synthetic skin joins the organic. “I’m not even bitter about that. It ended up saving my father’s soul. But sometimes, I have nightmares about it, you know? And in those dreams, my father... doesn’t help me. He just stands and stares at me and that’s worse than the pain. Because, when it actually happened, there was... a moment when I thought he wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t care and he’d watch me die. For a moment there, I lost hope, and that’s the worst of it really, knowing that about myself.”

“Why was... your father on the Death Star?” the Mandalorian asks, and huh, apparently he hasn’t heard about the Luke-and-Vader-connection either.

“It’s a long story,” Luke says, because it is, and he’s tired. His scars still hurt, not in these sudden flashes anymore, but as a pulsing, bone-deep, constant ache. But his chest feels a bit lighter for having talked about it.

The Mandalorian now gestures at said chest, instead of asking for the story again. “Can you take painkillers for those?”

Luke shakes his head. “They don’t help much. The pain’s in here.” He taps his temple. “I’ve just been trying to sleep it off, but it hurts too much to get to sleep.”

Mando hisses out a breath, and Luke is by this point fairly certain he’s commiserating. “Phew. Sounds like you need a drink.”

This makes Luke laugh, and he appreciates that. “You know, I’d love a drink, actually.”

After Grogu is put to bed, Luke gets a glass of spotchka and Mando’s company (he tilts the helmet off just far enough to free his mouth in quick, almost furtive gestures and takes tiny sips). His head’s starting to feel pleasantly swimmy when he says, “You know, I’ve just bared all my troubles to you - well, not all, but some, and pretty hefty ones - and yet I know... three facts about you, maybe.”

“Hmm. Yeah, that doesn’t seem fair,” the Mandalorian says amusedly. “What would you like to know?”

“Your name would be a good start,” Luke suggests.

The way the Mandalorian fidgets with his glass, he looks almost flustered. “Ah... Din. Din Djarin.”

“Luke Skywalker.” Luke grins and reaches across the table, ignoring the pinpricks of pain up his arm, to grip Mando’s - Din’s - hand. “It’s nice to have met you, Din Djarin.”

-----

In the following months, these flare-ups return occasionally, but none in such intensity. Luke knows that it’s only a matter of time, though. He’s beginning to suspect that this might stay with him forever. But he’s not as horrified at the prospect as he once was, after talking about it to Din and being neither judged nor pitied. After Din didn’t look at him worried like Leia, or attempted clumsily to walk on eggshells around the topic like Han, and didn’t think less of Luke, and didn’t act like Luke’s admittance to his issues tarnished some sort of larger-than-life image of the glowing Jedi hero. How odd it is to think of a future that has someone in it he can rely on in such an uncomplicated manner. He hasn’t had anyone in his life to rely on - or dared to think of himself as needing this - since... well, since Aunt Beru, probably.

During these months, Grogu has steadily progressed in his studies. Din has visited the temple with some regularity, but Luke has yet to get used to him. How could he, when there’s so much new and exciting to discover about Din still? He finds himself looking forward to these visits, and missing Din when absent, almost as much as Grogu does. Din can only ever stay a few days at once, and Departure Day is a sad one for all two inhabitants of the makeshift Jedi school. (Luke’s not sure what Din does when he’s not here. It can’t be so important, right? Surely not more important than spending time with Grogu? Than talking to Luke?)

This time, though, when Din shows up at the agreed-upon time, it’s weird. He speaks even less than usual, he seems to retreat into his armor even more, he opts to sleep in his ship instead of one of the many empty bedrooms in the temple that Luke has yet to fill with more students. And he barely holds or even touches Grogu, and that tips Luke off. These other observations he could chalk up to paranoia and his own desire to coax Din out of his (figurative!) shell. But that last one tells him that something is off.

Grogu can feel it too, and confusion and worry is seeping off of him into the Force. Luke tries to calm him and get him to sleep, but in the morning, Grogu’s still a bit anxious, and their collective worry mounts when breakfast passes by and Din fails to emerge from his ship. The two of them are reflecting their worry back off each other, and it’s getting aggravating, so Luke gets up and resolves to investigate.

“Okay, Grogu, can you go in the garden and play with Artoo? I’ll go look what’s up with your dad.”

Grogu immediately calms now that he knows the matter is being taken care of, and it warms Luke’s heart to see how much the kid has grown to trust him.

He gains entrance to the ship - it’s not the same one that Grogu has shared memories of with him, but similar enough in layout. The cockpit is empty, so he descends down a narrow ladder into what probably passes for crew quarters here. Peering around a corner, he finds Din hunkered down with his back against the durasteel wall, his threadbare cape wrapped around him as a blanket. He hasn’t noticed Luke come in yet, and that’s wrong in and of itself, and he’s shivering so hard it makes his beskar rattle slightly. As Luke lays eyes on him, he breaks into a horrid wet cough beneath the helmet, the modulator rendering it rasping and metallic.

Okay, something must be done.

“Din?” Luke asks, peeking his head out into open view. “It’s Luke, I’m in here now. You sound like my dad, kriffing-- how long has it been like this?”

Din’s head whips around in Luke’s direction, and he probably only doesn’t flinch because he’s trained to not flinch at things. “I’m fine,” he claims - outrageously lying - and tries to drag himself to his feet, hands bracing against the wall behind him.

Luke is already rushing to his side. “No, no, just stay down. There, that’s right, just sit. Are you wounded? Sick?”

Din tilts his head back against the wall. “Not wounded.”

“Well, that’s... good.” Luke squats next to him, unsure how to proceed. In the Force, he can feel exhaustion and pain radiating off of Din, but that doesn’t tell him what exactly is wrong. He tries to touch his wrist and, of course, meets beskar.

“Din, I realize this might be a... big ask, but can you remove your helmet so I can check your temperature?”

A stuttering sigh comes out through the modulator. “I don’t...”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Luke hurries to add. “It’ll just be for a few seconds. Oh, oh I have a blindfold back at the temple! I can run back and get it.”

Din shakes his head. “It’s okay. You’ve seen it before.” He reaches a shaking hand up and with a hiss, the locks on the helmet disengage. He slides it up and off and Luke takes in his face. It’s flushed, his hair matted and sweaty, his eyes bleary, and yet. It’s as attractive as Luke remembers.

Shaking these thoughts off, because there certainly are more important things now, Luke reaches out and puts his ungloved hand on Din’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he hisses. “I’m taking you back to the temple, I have medicine there.”

He’s already in the process of wrapping an arm around Din’s torso to help him up when Din shakes his head. “No. Gotta stay here.” His speech is washed out, his eyes glassy, and Luke’s concerned he’s not talking sense.

“You’ll be more comfortable at the temple.”

Din tries to brush him off with alarmingly feeble hands. “No. The kid.”

Ah. “I don’t think Grogu can catch anything off of you. Different species and all that.”

“You don’t know.”

Well, strictly speaking, Luke doesn’t. Yoda never mentioned anything like that. For a moment, Luke looks around the room, but his old mentor’s ghost is unhelpfully absent. He settles for promising, “I’ll make sure he keeps his distance.”

Din shakes his head again. “Kid’s going to...” He’s interrupted by another coughing fit. “...try to heal me. Don’t want him to overdo it.”

Even miserably sick, Din’s first concern is for the child. It makes something warm swell in Luke’s chest, and he realizes with no small start that Oh, this might be something a lot more than attraction he’s dealing with.

It doesn’t matter now. “I’ll make sure Grogu doesn’t overtax himself then. I’m his teacher, it’s what I’m here for.” Not at home to any more protests, Luke uses the Force to help him lift Din up in his arms. “Try to have a little faith in me, okay?”

“I’m fine here on my own,” Din insists.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Luke says distractedly as he starts off towards the exit ramp, bridal-carrying a whole Mandalorian warrior.

Din is not cooperative, doing his damndest to make himself a dead weight. “I’m Mand’alor,” he mutters, eyes half-closed. “I don’t have to take that tone from you.”

Luke doesn’t know what that word means. Maybe it’s a special type of Mandalorian. He’ll ask later, if he remembers. “Right now, you’re sick, that’s all,” he says, taking them at a brisk pace back to the temple. “You need attention.”

Din’s answer is a displeased groan. “My own damn fault for taking off the helmet.”

In the moment, Luke wonders if he means that in a metaphysical sort of way, like he’s being punished by the ancient Mando gods for his heresy. He’ll later discover that it’s much more prosaic than that: Din has worn the helmet since he was a child, and it’s protected him amiably against any airborne diseases. Now that he’s decided to start taking if off occasionally amongst other people, his immune system is being thrown into a panic by all these new unfiltered things to be breathed in, and he has prompty caught some kind of space flu.

For now, he gets Din into bed, armor and all, and heads for the ‘fresher and the aid kit he stashed there.

--

Din is burning.

Din is glacier-cold.

He sleeps irregularly in this soft bed he doesn’t recognize, and wakes himself with fits of coughing. He gropes for lucidity and gives up on it again in intervals. At some point, someone took his helmet - no, he remembers taking it off, or was that a dream? He has a memory of being carried in somebody’s arms, but who would carry him in full beskar? Who would care to? He’s not on his ship and he’s not alone and this is wrong. He’s been sick before, even with the helmet: from infected wounds or bad food or bad water or being out in harsh weather too long during a job. He’s always ridden it out by himself, if he was too far off to stumble his way back to the covert. But this isn’t the covert - that’s long gone, isn’t it? - and someone is here.

The person, at some point, helps him sit up and removes his armor, and Din would panic - does - but the person’s hands on him are gentle, and there’s some voice telling him that “It’s just to make you more comfortable, I’m putting it right next to the bed, I’m not taking it away, see? It’s right here waiting for you” and he’s too exhausted to put up a fight, and why would they lie? If they wanted the beskar for themselves they would’ve killed him already. But the person doesn’t. The person gives him water when he’s coughed his throat raw. The person drapes a blanket over him, which he shucks off during the hot spells only to grope for it again during the cold ones. The person puts a hand on his forehead and it’s even more cool and soothing than the damp cloth they also provide.

At some point, the person puts something in the bed with him - some alive thing, some small and fussy thing, some important thing with small green claws and wide moon eyes and large ears that are the softest thing that Din’s ever touched. He reaches out for it on instinct, just to pet the downy white hairs on its little head, and the person’s voice says from somewhere far above, “Okay, Grogu, I promised your father to take this slow. We’ll do this gradually, so you don’t tire yourself. You understand? Small healing. Easy.”

The small and precious thing makes a displeased sound, and Din wants to soothe it again. The voice replies, “I know how you feel, I know you want to fix it all right now, but I promised, okay? Your father will be very disappointed in me if we don’t do this just like he’d have it. And we don’t want that, hm?”

Din hears a coo close to his ear, feels a tiny, three-clawed hand touching him, and then there’s a sudden warmth spreading in his chest, not like the clammy heat of the fever but different, pleasant. Suddenly it seems easier to lie back and get some real, truly restful sleep, and this he does.

This instance repeats several more times, over days, until there is a point at which Din wakes - still sore, shaky, and with his muscles aching from having trembled so much - but with the fever broken and his head clear enough to string a coherent thought together.

He’s vaguely aware of a warbling voice a short distance away that he can’t quite yet discern. The room is dim, with only a singular lamp by his bedside spreading a warm light. There is a window above the bed but no light is coming in. It must be late in the evening - Grogu’s bedtime, is what Din’s inner alarm clock tells him without fail. And indeed, when he raises his head, he spots a small crib across the room that can only be Grogu’s, and Luke is there, rocking it in gentle motions. It is him who’s doing the crooning - singing Grogu to sleep, Din realizes abruptly. As he focuses, the lullaby slowly starts to make some sense: it’s in Bocce, which Din is about as conversant in as Tusken. He’s actually heard the tune before; it’s a nonsensical little ditty that settlers on Tatooine sing to their children.

He stretches out an arm and points a shaky finger at Luke.

“Hick,” he accuses, his voice gritty like he gargled a mouthful of sand.

Luke spins around, his blue eyes widening. “If you’re trying to insinuate that only sand-encrusted, desert-dwelling hicks speak Bocce,” he says, “then you are correct.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you back with us.”

“You’re from Tatooine,” Din says, and wonders why this is so important to him. Maybe it’s because learning things about Luke is like putting a puzzle together. There’s somehow a whole bunch of people that Luke is - he’s fascinating, he’s vexing, he’s confusing, and Din has no idea why he’s this interested in the first place. Well, he does have some clue, but it’s best not dwelled upon. Luke has his Creed and his life, Din has his wholly different Creed and life, and it’s not like the interest can be mutual anyway.

Or can it? Luke seems to have been here for days, watching him heal. Din’s mind veers away from phrases like “nursing” and “caring for” because, well, it implies a needing and a being needed that’s not usually extant for him. He takes care of himself, mostly, that is how it’s been for years. Decades...

Luke nods. “Anchorhead represent. Go Womp Rats.”

Din wrinkles his nose. “Anchorhead? There’s nothing there.”

“You’re telling me! Come talk to me about it when you’ve lived there for nineteen years.” He crosses the room to come perch on the edge of Din’s bed. “Which you won’t, you’re the king of Mandalore.”

Oh, shit. Yeah. He’s probably missing a council meeting right now. Wait. “Who told you?”

“You talked a lot when you were feverish.” Luke passes a hand over Din’s brow. He’s done that before, but it’s very different now that Din is awake for it. “It seems to have broken.”

“You had the kid heal me,” Din surmises. He can’t waste breath right now on wondering what else he said to Luke, when the fever had him. “I told you not to do that.”

“I had him heal you slowly, step by step, so he wouldn’t exhaust himself. Just a little every day,” Luke explains.

“He okay now?”

“He’s-” Luke begins to answer, then stops himself. A truly mischievous smile spreads on his lips. “Prince Grogu is resting, your highness. But yes, your majesty, he’s perfectly fine and healthy.”

“Stop.” Din swats a hand at him. “Not... ‘majesty’. We don’t even do that. It’s just ‘Alor. Actually, it’s just Din.”

Luke dodges his hand and almost falls back onto the bed, laughing. “Oh, dear. Please, your worship, accept this humble Jedi’s apology--”

“I mean it, stop--” He probably sounds petulant. He can’t bring himself to care.

Luke’s smile gentles. So do his eyes, impossibly blue. Huh. He’s beautiful. “I’m just teasing you,” he says, beautifully. “I know this doesn’t change anything here. Just another facet of the man I’ve been getting to know.”

“Ah. So you’ve been.” Din clears his throat. That feels awful, as it is still very dry. “Getting to know me. Huh?”

Does this qualify as flirting? This is probably awful. Din’s not good at this. And anyway, it’s still unclear if Luke is actually--???

The softest pair of lips in the galaxy (the galaxy!!!) is on his forehead. Din’s chest implodes. He can feel Luke’s smile on his skin. He’s never felt anything like it before. How is this happening? He’s most likely still sick, and this is a fever dream.

“I’d like to get to know much more of you,” Luke says, withdrawing, still smiling, his eyes like sun-streaked oceans. Din has no breath in his chest.

He delays his reaction two seconds too long, and Luke’s expression begins to falter. “I’m... sorry, you’ve just recovered, and here I am putting... this on you.” He gestures broadly at himself in his entirety. “I... hold on, I’ll go get you, um, a glass of water or something...”

Din would like a glass of water. He would not like Luke to leave. The latter wins out. “Wait.” He grasps Luke’s wrist before he can get up. “I didn’t mean... I would, um. Like to get to know you also.”

Luke stills, his face a turmoil of emotion. How is this the same man who looked so utterly serene to the point of expressionlessness when they first met?

Din figures it’s way past time he made a move. Luke’s already gone and bared himself so much. It’s only fair that he meet him halfway, Din thinks and kisses him.

[theodora3022]

Bloody Rose(Sebastian Michaelis x Vampire F!reader)

Request: Sabastian with a female vampire s/o? Can be yandere or not! You choose.

Notes: I made this in headcanons form and I’m typing on mobile during witching hours, so bear with me dear anon-

I decided to go with fluff since I am in a soft mood today~~

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of blood

To others, you were a tailor owning a small haute couture shop, a spinster who make her living by making outfits. But they won’t know you been doing this since the Georgian times.

You move from county to county, around England every decade or so, to avoid suspension. Luckily no vampire hunters has ever been on your tail: you consider yourself as a good subject to the crown despite being a blood drinker. You only consume animal blood, which made you a harmless vegetarian. Being a forever maiden is not unpleasant by any means, apart from being banished from sunlight. You miss being able to run around in the sun freely. When you do go out during a sunny day you cover yourself in fabric as much as possible, resulting you with overly pale skin.

Contrary to common belief, you slept until the afternoon, opening up the store even during the day. You had forced yourself to change your biological routine to fit in the human society. Although your bed resembles a traditional coffin in shape, it is never an actual one. The mirrors in your shop were not backed by silver, so you can still see your reflections.

You happened to be at late Victorian London when a mysterious murderer decides to drain the blood of thier victims like a vampire would, how unfortunate.

You were one of the suspects, so Sabastian and his lord were obligated to pay you a visit. Although they did not put you as priority to begin with: you never done things like this. 

You welcomed them to your store with a polite smile and warm greetings, as any good saleswoman would. 

Ever since transforming, you had not drank a drop of human blood. However, you can still smell the scent of their blood even through skin. It feels like...a natural perfume to you, to describe it at best. Some are sweeter then others, like tempting sweet delights, and you had to make sure you are well fed before going near them. 

That little lord’s blood is sweet and tempting. The butler, however, his blood just...is that even blood? You thought to yourself. It reminds you of the mighnight, danger lurking underneath the peaceful surface.This man is no ordinary human, you can sense that much. You had never delt with a demon before, therefor your knowledge is rather limited, only from books and theaters. 

Vampires are demons are cut from the same cloth, in a way right? Both can only venture in the shadows for eternity, trying to get by without being slain by those self righteous dastards. Sebastian had met some of your kind over the centuries, albiet none of them are as lovely as you are. You still act like a young human woman, if not for your overly pale skin you would be considered as normal. He wonders what made you this way, as all vampires, save a selected few, are humans before something happened. You seem like a kind lady, not one of those blood-hungry lowlifes he had seen before. 

You showed Ciel your collection, took his measurements when he demanded, never flinching away from the young lord’s cold attitude. When you went into the inner chamber to retrive more material choice, Ciel decided you are most likely not the murderer they are looking for, and Sebastian agrees. There is not a single scent of human blood on you or anywhere in sight, as demons can smell such things even one uses the finest soap to cover the traces.  Even though you are a vampire, if you are harmless to others Ciel is not intersted in fighting you(he has a demon for butler, so?).

“But she is a fine tailor, right milord? Maybe you can just make this a normal shopping trip.” What an unsual person you are, thought Sebastian. He might just take a little more time to observe you. It has been forever since he met another immortal being that does not irritates him.

“Very well. This would not be a complete waste of time then. I need a new suit for the social season anyway.” The young man tsked.

When they asks you to deliver the order yourself, you were hesitant about going outside. Your ususal customers send their servents to collect their orders, as you insisted so. You know what sunburns can do to you, but they offered you a down payment you cannot refuse. It is a risk you are willing to take. Even vampires needs gold to survive, if you do not wish to massacre humans for food.

The moment you stepped onto the estate, covered in a long hooded cloak and gloves, you can sense great calamity has occured in this location rather recently. But that is none of your concerns, the customer’s private life is nothing to pry about.

The servents...they are an odd flock, to say the least. They might seem clumsy or even impotent, but you know that butler knows better then to hire three imbeciles.  

After you made your delivery, Sebastian insists on you staying for the afternoon tea. You wanted to decline, since normal food has been tasting like wet paper ever since that awful day, but you find it hard to say keep saying no to such a comely man. He is the most goregous male you ever seen, and you say that as an immortal. The term “devilishly handsome” is like a tailor made suit for him. 

To your surprise, you can faintly taste the refreshement’s fruity flavours. When you were human yourself you have always loved food, missing it much when all you can taste is blood. So you helped yourself to quite a few tarts and biscuits, not knowing the demon had added special ingredients just for your vampire taste buds. You were so focused on your plate that you missed Sebastian’s calculating smile. 

That esclated rather quickly, soon you found yourself promising to tailor more clothes for Earl Phantomhive, therefore being on their premise more. 

Sebastian would always treat you to a plate of mouth-watering refreshments before you depart. Soon you find yourself answering his somewhat intrusive questions, as it is only fair to give him some compensation for those delicious treats.

The questions are surfaces ones at first. What is your favorite color or your preferred weather. Then to more personal territory, such as the reason behind your spinsterhood or what in a man that attracts you the most. You would blush madly, a feeling you have not felt in years fills your empty soul, and tell him your little answers.

How endearing. Compare to werewolves who behaves like canines, vampire leans closer to the feline side. You reminds Sebastian greatly of the black cat he encountered last spring. Your nonchalant and cheerful attitude are identical to the lovely creature. Oh and how he loves petting her soft fur. He wonders how your hair would feel under his hands. He initially might just be curious of how an odd vampire you are, but now the demon had found you to be quite an entertaining presence.

It has been so long since you had any friends, so you opened up to him quickly, disregarding the risks. You even revealed your identity to the man in black after he swears on his heart to not tell a soul. 

“My entire family was slaughtered by venegeful vampires. My father used to work as a vampire hunter for the mad King, therefore he made enemies of many. Ironically I survived, only to found out I turned into this. A creature who can only hide in the shadows forever. I swore I would never be like those blood suckers, I would never kill someone just to saitate my blood lust. Thank you Sabastian, for all those delicious cakes. They made me feel human agian once more. Also thank you for listening to my rambles, it has been so many years I confided in someone.” So you where a noble lady once. That is where your fine but antiquated manners originates from.

What a calamity you had suffered, yet you remain strong and lighthearted nonetheless. Moving from place to place, afraid to be burnt for your youthful appearance.You deserve to be cherished as the treasure you cleary are. No more hiding and running, not if he can help it.

You gladly accepted Lord Phantomhive’s offer to serve as the household’s tailor, the pay is generous and working for one person greatly reduce the risk of being discovered. Plus you get to spend more time with your new friend Sebastian! It is an offer you cannot turn down.

Sebastain is in a contract right now, but Ciel could only live so long. Prior to meeting you, he never thought about the future after his contract is completed. He imagined the two of you traveling across the European contient as friends, or something more, for the rest of your infinate lives. He has always been alone whenever he was not in a contract with humans, but the idea of being with someone forever is rather appealling to the demon. 

Even though he does not let his emotions discract him from his duties, you can still feel how he smiles whenever you enter the room. You would curl up your lips jovially in return, sometimes even teases him for having a charming smile. 

For now, Sebastian would be your good friend, always lend an ear to you for anything, or offer his shoudler should you need it, as long it does not get in the way of his duties to his liege. But who knows what would happen after the contract is completed? The world is yours to explore, with infinate amount of time, with him by your side.

[monstersdownthepath]

Demigod Dossier: Velstrac Demagogues, part 1

Pictured: Aroggus, the Abbey-Maker

Lawful Evil Mad Artists of the Shadow Plane

The Complete Book of the Damned, pg. 120~121 Additional information is also present in Adventure Path: Return of the Runelords: The City Outside of Time, pg. 74~79

Our second-ever Demigod Dossier, now fully in-swing! The Velstrac Demagogues are the rulers of the Shadow Plane and all the lives within, though many of said lives within aren’t really fans of them. Natives to the Netherworld find the presence of the Velstrac an annoyance at best and a threat to their lives at worst, and would much prefer if they went back to Hell where they came from, but unfortunately for everyone everywhere they don’t appear too eager to throw themselves into the jaws of the inferno just yet. Instead, they’re busy throwing themselves into the jaws of one another.

The Demagogues represent the pinnacle of a specific subset of the Velstrac’s twisted senses of ‘art’ and ‘perfection,’ either because they’ve mutilated themselves into something wholly unlike anything else that can, did, or could exist, or they’ve pioneered a form of artistry that other Velstrac couldn’t even conceptualize in the first place and gathered a fandom. It takes some very twisted, alien forms of thinking to become a Demagogue and get others rallied behind you, even moreso because the Velstrac themselves are, putting it kindly, completely out of their gourd. When your audience already expects the insane and outlandish, you have to go even further, and many of the fiends you’ll soon see have.

We’ll only be covering four in this initial post, with the rest to be saved for later...

Demagogues view mortals as little more than primal clay to be shaped, and thus see little worth in investing true divine power into them, worshipers receive Boons that are are relatively simple: a trio of spell-like abilities, each of which may be used 1/day. Boons are normally gained slowly, at levels 12, 16, and 20, however entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes can see the Boons gained as early as levels 10, 13, and 16. Note that while they are Lawful Evil fiends originally from Hell, they are not devils, thus you cannot enter the Diabolist Prestige Class to obtain their Boons without DM fiat.

Aroggus, the Abbey-Maker

Demagogue of Possibility, Revenge, and Sanctuary Domains: Evil, Law, Protection, Trickery Subdomains: Deception, Defense, Fear, Tyranny

Obedience: List the names of those who have wronged you until the writing covers a page, then consume the parchment. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus on saving throws to resist compulsion effects.

What a completely normal, sane, and healthy thing to do! As the first of the Demagogues to flee from Hell, Aroggus is EXTREMELY angry at the devils for locking them up in the first place. Angry enough to want revenge on the whole of the diabolic race, as well as the Asura... Angry enough that he hasn’t yet even started getting around to enacting his revenge, instead just constantly thinking about and refining it as if no iteration of suffering is perfect enough to match his fury.

True to form, he wants you to ruminate in your anger rather than doing anything to enact your vengeance, blacking out a page with the names (or just one name) of all who’ve wronged you no matter how petty or insignificant the inconvenience they may have caused. Unfortunately, no two ways about it, you’re going to look insane (in the literal definition of the term) doing this every day, especially if you only have one or two people who’ve wronged you enough to get onto your list. Scrawling their name, front AND back, until the page is filled and then eating it is behavior that will raise eyebrows no matter who you’re adventuring with. Best to keep this one behind closed doors. Make sure you have a glass of activated charcoal after, because all of that ink day after day (unless you write with, I don’t know, berry juice or blood) is going to do amazingly terrible things to your constitution.

The benefit is good. Compulsions are typically Save-Or-Suck effects, so having more Save means less Suck for you later on. It’s useful at any point in your adventure, so I can’t say anything bad about it! My only wish is that it was a little stronger, since some other gods give +4 vs compulsion and charm effects.

Boon 1: Nondetection Boon 2: Forcecage Boon 3: Imprisonment

Nondectection is a good spell for those times when you need to sneak by diviners, hide magic items from scrutiny, avoid the gaze of a Paladin who’s a little too judicious with Detect Evil, or to add another layer of shroud over Invisibility and the like. It’s a spell that’s a pain to prepare every single day, but useful to have when you need it... but you only have one casting of it per day, so using it wisely is paramount. Ironically, it combines well with your own Divination to find out if you’ll even need it later.  More often than not you won’t be using it at all except to idly ward yourself when going into town or diving into a dungeon.

Forcecage is a completely different animal, the offensive and defensive applications of the spell simply mind-blowing, to the point that keeping this to just one paragraph to save space is going to take some herculean effort on my part! So, the basics: Forcecage has two versions, both of which halt all movement through them: A 20ft square of force bars that allow spells, projectiles, and line-of-effect through, and a 10ft cube that blocks line-of-effect and all forms of magic and supernatural abilities. A Forcecage is effectively invincible (having Hardness 30 and 20hp/level) and impossible to move, so anyone trapped inside without the ability to teleport is likely to stay there for the spell’s duration. Also, to put it simply, shoving enemies in the cage is the main point, but if you cannot, a 10ft/20ft square is an enormous roadblock to stop up narrow passages with.

Which leaves Imprisonment, a portable hole you can shove all sorts of problems into, which will likely create new problems down the line if the target had anything you needed on them. I recommend knocking out a foe, stripping them of their valuables, and then shoving them into their baby jail for all eternity! With the Freedom spell being the only means to undo Imprisonment (even Wish and Miracle fail), you’ll have no actual way to undo the spell against any target you cast it on for one or two more levels, if at all (depending on the party composition). Make sure to use it only when the villain has no MacGuffins, or is a powerful recurring threat. Imprisonment works on anything and everything capable of failing the Will save (take note, anyone wanting to fight Kaiju, Great Old Ones, or Spawn of Rovagug), which gets a -4 penalty if you know the target’s name and some facts about its life, so famous villains are even more vulnerable to being thrown into the Eternity Marble! 

------

Barravoclair, Lady of the Final Gasp

Demagogue of the Elderly, Fatalistic Insights, Resurrection Domains: Death, Evil, Healing, Law Subdomains: Murder, Restoration, Resurrection, Undead

Obedience: Practice breath control, holding your breath until you nearly pass out. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus on checks to resist drowning and on saves against inhaled poisons.

A hell of a step down in terms of unhealthiness in terms of Aroggus, and significantly less suspicious, too. Breath control is practiced by people of all stripes, from athletes to explorers to simple monks attempting more profound meditation. While ‘nearly passing out’ is skirting an edge most people won’t approach, it’s not exactly as dangerous for you as, say, inhaling water or eating poison every day. Without any materials needed, the Lady of the Final Gasp is one of the simplest and probably the single cheapest Obedience ritual one could ask for! There is a minor caveat in that races who can’t breathe can’t technically do this Obedience at all, but those aren’t the audience Barravoclair wants anyway.

Unfortunately, the benefit is as weak as the Obedience is easy to do. Drowning is unlikely to come up as a danger unless you’re physically dragged into the water by a monster (which means holding your breath likely isn’t an option anyway), and inhaled poisons are the least common poison type in the game. Against the odd Catoblepas or Green Dragon it will come in handy, but it’s protection from injury poison you really need, which the Lady of the Final Gasp doesn’t provide.

Boon 1: Speak With Dead Boon 2: Resurrection Boon 3: Soul Bind

Alright, let’s face it. Some days, you need Speak With Dead to keep the plot running smoothly. Whether your overzealous DPS kills everyone in the room, your Fireball-lobbing Sorcerer kills everyone in the room, or your summoner’s unchained beasts kill everyone in the room, chances are at some point in your career you’re going to save the party a lot of headaches by being able to pull answers from a corpse. Having Speak With Dead available every day will likely not matter 80% of the time (meaning you can typically use it at your leisure just before going to bed), but much like with Water Breathing and spells like Remove Curse and Neutralize Poison, having it for those 20% of times you need it can keep the wheels spinning and stop unneeded side quests.

... And speaking of side quests and things you’ll need once in a blue moon, Resurrection? For free? Even 1/day? With the hefty cost of 10,000gp for the normal spell, even a well-off party will feel the impact every single time they have to use Rez, but the removal of the cost ups the power level of the spell by a margin so enormous that it doesn’t really matter what Boon you get before or after this one; THIS boon rewards worship of Barravoclair enough to justify putting up with her empty benefit. Even without factoring in the ability to raise party members, you can now curry favor with people of all stripes and demand all forms of insane payments for your ability to raise centuries-old dead at no cost but time... or do your work for free and call in favors at a later date. Do note, however, that you’ll also need someone else on standby to remove the negative levels/stat drain caused by the resurrection process.

I said it didn’t matter what the third Boon was and I stand by it. Unlike with the free Rez above, Soul Bind’s enormous cost still makes its use as anything but a once-per-campaign finisher of an annoying enemy irritating and unfeasible. Spell-likes normally require no components, but Soul Bind operates in a gray area of the rules in that its focus component becomes the subject for the spell, meaning that a DM can very easily and very rightly say you DO require the  gemstone whose value must equal or exceed the target’s HD x 1,000. Binding even a simple 5 CR creature requires the tall order of a 5,000gp gemstone, and if you want to use it on a target that’s worthwhile, it gets expensive fast. It’s way cheaper and easier to just hire a Cacodaemon. 

------

Fharaas, the Seer in Skin

Demagogue of Experience, Murder, and Patterns Domains: Evil, Knowledge, Law, Repose Subdomains: Ancestors, Fear, Memory, Souls

Obedience: Study the interior of a freshly severed limb. Benefit: You are immune to bleed effects that deal 6 damage or less.

This Obedience is deceptively simple for what its implication is. You’d best get yourself a Sack Of Rats or have access to a lot of disposable prisoners (or the Regenerate spell)! But thankfully, there’s some wiggle room in the wording: ‘freshly severed’ means no cheating and using Gentle Repose on the same arm over and over, but it ALSO means you can carry around a single corpse and slowly slice it apart, as the limbs themselves don’t have to be fresh, just freshly cut off for the purpose of the ritual. Also, you can use the bodies of Undead, Constructs, and any other creature that technically has severable limbs! Though Fharaas, the Seer In Skin, will likely punish you if your ritual doesn’t involve the examination of actual flesh.

You’re going to look really weird, is what I’m saying. At least if someone barges in on you, you can claim you’re inspecting them for something or other. Infection, signs of magic, etc, whatever you can come up with to blunt the blow. You can cover yourself moderately well by being a butcher or a hunter in your day job, as the severed limb doesn’t have to be human, or even sapient (hence why I suggest a Sack Of Rats), letting you freely slice up and examine your kills.

Bleed effects are fairly uncommon in the grand scheme of things but are also a pain in the neck to deal with in the middle of battle, so this giving a +4 bonus aga--wait, sorry, hold on no, this isn’t a bonus to saving throws? Or skill checks to heal bleed? It just... Stops them if they deal 6 or less damage? You don’t even have to make a save?

Okay. Okay, alright. So you’re just immune to bleed, then?

More or less, really. There are very few monsters that deal more than d6 bleed damage with their attacks (be warned that higher-level ones can sometimes stack their bleed!), and this ability also works on the rare but dreaded stat bleed, and off the top of my head there are NO monsters that deal more than a d4 dice in stat bleed damage. My main problem is that it doesn’t reduce the bleed damage you take by 6, so taking even 1 more point of bleed damage makes this ability useless. Still, though it’s fairly narrow, being effectively immune to a dangerous and irritating status ailment at level 3 or so (when bleed is at its most threatening) is well worth taking up butchery. 

Boon 1: Keen Edge Boon 2: Vision Boon 3: Foresight

Keen Edge is a spell you absolutely want to slap onto any vaguely pirate-y or hoity-toity party member you may have, as cutlasses, rapiers, and scimitars all leap from a dangerous 18~20 critical range to a terrifying 15~20, meaning they threaten to critically strike 1 out of every 4 attacks instead of just once every other fight or so. With a duration of 10 min/level, the enchantment will likely last multiple fights even if you only have it 1/day, but unfortunately it refuses to stack with any crit-boosting enchantments or feats the wielder may already possess, lessening its usefulness as your adventure goes on and your martial party members pick up increasingly fancy gear and pad out their collection of feats. Still, it’s useful for when you get it, and will remain useful for several levels after.

Vision is a whole different beast, and a dangerous one at that. It operates as the Legend Lore spell but vastly accelerated, allowing you to scrape the public consciousness for any information it may have on a specific person, place, or thing. I’ve complained about the general niche uses of Legend Lore before, but Vision grants the information in a much shorter time (a single standard action) at the cost of a potential for failure and a slap of fatigue whether you succeed or not. I don’t like 1/days that do nothing on a failure, but since Vision is purely a downtime spell (unless you need to know the boss’ weakness or info on the Evil Doom Artifact right now immediately), it’s not as much of an impediment to lose out on whatever information it could give you. That being said, the DM will likely have ways for you to do whatever plot-relevant research you need anyway, so Vision is more of a way to speed up the process than anything.

Which leaves Foresight, a spell whose main benefit relies intensely on DM cooperation, as I’ve ranted about here. Mechanically it’s fairly unimpressive, but if the DM reads the spell carefully, they should realize it gives whoever you cast it on a 6-second glance into the future at all times. Whatever horrors befall the victim 6 seconds from now should spring into your mind before they happen, making you the best trap radar on the planet, and the spell’s warnings for the best ways to protect yourself will urge the DM to grant you information about the enemy’s capabilities you may never otherwise know... but what do you expect from 9th level magic? It SHOULD be filling you in with details you’d never figure out!

------

Inkariax, the White Death

Demagogue of Preservation, Absolute Cold, and Solitude Domains: Evil, Law, Void, Water Subdomains: Fear, Ice, Isolation, Slavery

Obedience: Inventory your collection of hoarded knickknacks, reciting your unique name for each item as you do Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus on saving throws to resist effects that would petrify or paralyze you.

God, finally, someone normal. At worst you’ll look like someone with a few obsessive issues, but at least you won’t look like a menace to society as you lay out your, I dunno, marbles or bone dice or dolls or what have you and make note that they’re still there, cooing to them with names only you know. It’s fitting for Inkariax, of all the Demagogues, to have an Obedience that requires no self-harm, physically or psychologically; unlike all the rest, he was born perfect and doesn’t need to chase after it. Instead, he pursues finding perfection in others, freezing and collecting people and items he believes represent perfection in whatever unusual way he desires that day (having perfect posture, or a perfect scream, or a perfect pair of eyes, etc). Much like him, you’re encouraged to expand a collection of whatever you deem perfect and desirable, which you’re often going to do just over the course of normally adventuring. I’ve yet to see a player character that doesn’t start amassing all sorts of junk in their pockets the moment they get a Bag of Holding or similar.

Indeed, you can just pick up whatever catches your fancy, be it stones, sticks, or severed bits of an enemy, though I’m sure Inkariax will ever-so-slowly raise a disapproving eyebrow if you just pick up any old junk. Make sure to curate your collection now and then! Being able to perform this Obedience with anything you happen to gather is especially helpful if you’re ever separated from your collection (always a danger) and need to start again, but note that each item you gain in your collection must have a completely unique name. That’s only really a danger for especially RP-heavy campaigns, but in such campaigns Worship of the White Death isn’t for everyone who just names all their collected bird feathers Jeffery. Start getting in the habit of stretching out your inventory sheet with names for all your items!

The benefit you get from lovingly counting up all your stolen statuettes and dusty books is resistance to two of the worst status effects in the game. While petrification is relatively rare it typically appears in Save-Or-Suck form, which makes protection against it far more valuable than, say, protection against something like the far more common fatigue or exhaustion. Paralysis is an ailment just short of a death sentence by itself, costing the victim their turn at best and their life at worst, so even a +4 between you and that is something you need to cling to with your entire being.

Boon 1: Sleet Storm Boon 2: Sequester Boon 3: Microcosm

Sleet Storm is a very simple spell with a decent number of functions. Its Long range means that any enemy in your line of sight can potentially be a target, letting you lash out easily at ranged enemies or dangerous casters by creating a 40ft-wide and 20ft-tall area of concealing sleet that’s impossible for any vision to pierce (except the rare and niche Snowsight or Fogcutter Lenses). Anyone inside will have to rely on Tremorsense or Blindsense (though the jury’s out on if the splashing of the sleet would confound those, as well) to navigate it, and 40ft of difficult terrain can feel impossible to clamber through when you start right in the middle of it with no idea which way is the way you need to go. It’s one of the strongest vision-blockers in the game due to its immunity to common tactics that thwart lesser spells (Gust of Wind, True Seeing, etc), forcing enemies to either blow their valuable uses of Dispel Magic or suffer for its entire duration. My only complaint is that you only get it 1/day and that it screws over your party just as hard if you use it incorrectly.

Sequester is as niche a use spell as there ever was for players, requiring a bit of forethought about what or who you’d want to hide with it. The target must be willing or inanimate to be affected, so tricking an enemy via Charm or Dominate into accepting the spell can keep them fresh as a daisy for weeks at a time if you ever have a reason to do such a thing. More often than not you’ll use it to conceal items you seriously don’t want seen or detected, such as a Bag of Holding or similar loaded with your collection of knickknacks or emergency supplies, a particular hostage, an NPC you need to keep alive, or your phylactery if you’re a Lich. If you’re especially sadistic, using it on an item someone else needs and throwing it into a well or a hoard of other objects will keep them occupied for a while. If you’re a more martial character, using it to hide your armor is viable, making it seem as though you’re invincible when enemy blows bounce straight off, or even your weapon to confound your enemies who seem to be taking wounds from an unseen item. Your mime routine will be killer, literally! Just... Just don’t drop the thing, because in the heat of battle you’re never going to find it.

Microcosm is one of the best spells you can hurl into a crowd of commoners or a swarm of foes meant to gum you up instead of actually threaten you. Its 30 HD limit will mean it likely will only strike one or two creatures capable of actually threatening you, but it’s brutal even then. The spell is permanent, trapping your victims in an illusory world in which everything goes right for them even as their bodies starve to death in the waking world. Anything with less than 10 HD is automatically affected with no saving throw, the spell easily mopping up mobs, while anything with 11~15 HD escapes automatically after 10 min... per level you have. On a successful save. There’s Save-Or-Suck, and then there’s the immensely rare Save-And-Suck! No wonder Microcosm is ONLY on the Psychic’s list! Anything with more than 16 HD is unaffected if they succeed their save, but all their allies are likely in an everlasting dreamland now. The big issue is that the HD restriction is way tighter than you may think; creatures, especially at higher levels, usually do NOT have HD matching their CR, but if you’re mainly battling level-appropriate Humanoid or Monstrous Humanoid creatures, Microcosm is fairly reliable in such battles, as those foes typically have HD that roughly matches their CR. But if you’re up against, say, Dragons or Outsiders, good luck bud.

Side note: Microcosm and Sequester used in combination make for excellent ways to start your own morbid collection of living creatures, just like your icy master! Just make sure you have some non-Divination means of seeing them, as Sequester blocks even True Sight.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

In the cloak of the night

Summary: A night on which your friend ditched you, turned out to be the most eventful night you maybe had in your life. All thanks to the tall and handsome stranger you met and who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Not even when you were waiting for the bus to take both of you to your place...

Pairing: Syverson / F!Reader

Wordcount: 2.586

Warnings: alcohol, smut. exhibtionism, dirty talk

A/N: With a two day delay it’s here. Enjoy *winks*

Taglist in reblog. Join my Taglist here

By now you were pretty sure your friend wouldn’t be joining you in the pub. It was Saturday, you were wearing a way too short skirt and all you wanted to do was get drunk with your best friend on the day you would have gotten married.

That was if you hadn’t found out your ex fiance had another fiance in another part of town. The things you discovered ever since you broke the engagement could be straight out of a novel.

That was now six months ago. 

Sighing, you leaned with your head on your hand ordering yourself another Gin Tonic. That really was typical. She kept nagging you about to go out more, to make some effort and then she stood you up.

Rolling your eyes you decided to stay for the next drink and then make your way home. If you were quick, you could still catch another rerun of Charmed on tv. 

Laughter from the other side of the pub made you turn your head to find out where it was coming from. A group of men in camouflage was sitting at the biggest table of the bar. You knew that a bunch of army people had been back from wherever they had been for the last few months, but you didn’t know it had been that many. 

A pair of blue eyes meet yours out of the group of men. He had very short dark hair, a wild scruff in his face hiding most of his face from view. For what felt like minutes he looked at you, his eyes not leaving yours until you both snapped out of it, him because somebody wanted something and you because another glass of gin tonic was set down in front of you.

For the next half hour, you casually looked over your shoulder, to steal another gaze but he was nowhere to be seen. You huffed. Story of your life. 

You weren’t a supermodel, but you were happy with how you looked. Sure you could work out more, your mother kept saying that you never would find a man again if you didn’t put a bit more effort in how you looked, yet as long as you were happy, you wouldn’t give a damn.

“Excuse me?” Someone asked beside you. Already sighing, you turned around only to find the man from earlier staring down at you. If his eyes were what caught your attention at first, the second was certainly his stature. He was huge. His biceps were probably bigger than your head. A little grin sneaked to his face when you didn’t say anything.

“Sorry.” You shyly said, probably blushing. He genuinely smiled at you, his face softening.

“I was wondering if I could invite you for a drink?” He asked.

“Aren’t you busy catching up with your guys?” You asked teasingly.

“Nah. I’ve seen those fuckers every day for 5 months.” He laughed, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head.

“Blink once if you need someone to save you.” You leaned in and whispered. He looked at you surprised and you could see a fleck of brown in his left eye. He winked once at you, making you laugh, before he sat down on the seat next to you.

“What can I get ya?” He asked, already waving to the waiter.

“Nothing yet.” You pointed to your still half full glass.

“Well then, I’d like a beer and some mozzarella sticks.” He said.

He told you his name was Sy and he was an army captain just back from a 5 month stay in Iraq. He’d be home for three months before he had to go back for another 5 months before he was done for good.

“Isn’t that hard?” You asked.

“You get used to it.” He shrugged. The longer you talked the more both of you had turned towards another.

“It’s not like I have much to come back here to anyway. I have my dog and my mom.”

“No friends?” You asked. He shook his head.

“Not really. I never invested time in friends because I’m not around much.”

“That sounds lonely. What about girlfriends?” You sucked your bottom lip in. He looked at you for a while, his eyes not leaving yours.

“No girlfriends. I mean there was this woman I loved but…” He shook his head looking away from you. You reached for his arm and waited until he looked at you.

“I get it. Let’s not talk about it,” you said quietly. He nodded at you and you dared to steal one of his mozzarella sticks.

“Didn’t take you for a thief.” He chuckled.

“You’ve known me for an hour, Captain. You haven’t even scratched the surface on who I am.” You winked, eating the mozzarella stick.

An hour later you found yourself in his arms as you danced along to the band that was performing on stage. You were standing with your back against his chest, his arms around your waist. He was so tall, his head didn’t even have to rest on top of yours. The fact that he was so much bigger than you was making you all kinds of tingly.

His fingers brushed over the exposed skin of your stomach. You could feel his hard muscles on your back. He was exactly what you needed. A man who you knew you would have no future with because he would leave in a matter of time. That didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun. You never had a one night stand in your life but….

Turning in his arms you looked up at him before you could talk yourself out of it and grinned up at him.

“Come down here.” You said, and when he leaned down you kissed him, catching him by surprise. He groaned against your lips, as his arms pulled you closer, his tongue brushing over your lips, deepening the kiss. Grasping the fabric of his shirt you clang to him. One of his hands on your back sneaking under your shirt, caressing your skin. He tasted of beer and something unique you were growing addicted to.

The band finished their song, the crowd around you applauding.

“You wanna get out of here?” You asked against his lips. He nodded, before he kissed you again, taking your hand and going back to the bar where you left your stuff.

The very short way to the bus stop a little down the street took way longer than anticipated. Which could have to do with the fact that Sy couldn’t keep his hands off of you. His lips seemed to be glued to your neck and you were pretty sure you would end up with a hickey. Which was kinda hot. 

When you came to a stop at the bus station and studied the plan, you sighed.

“Next bus will be here in 30 minutes,” you said. His arms sneaked around your waist, his chest pressed against your back and you could feel just how hard he was. Never in your life had you been this horny. For anyone really.

“I can’t wait that long,” he whispered against your ear as he leaned down, making you shiver.

“I think you can, big boy. It’s not like you can fuck me here out in the open.” You chuckled.

“And why is that?” He asked, his big hands running down your sides, resting on your thighs as you leaned into him.

“Because this is an open street and my bed is way more comfortable…” you argued, his lips kissing up your neck.

“My lap is very comfortable,” he whispered.

“I don’t have condoms…” You tilted your head, giving him more space.

“I have some…” He sucked on your earlobe, making you moan.

“Always prepared, Captain?” You teased.

“Better safe than sorry.” He grinned.

Where you really about to let a man you had met only hours before fuck you at a bus station?

“I promise I’ll make you cum on my tongue for the rest of the night…” He whispered against your ear, as one of his hands ran up your thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 9 months…” you whimpered when you felt his hand between your legs.

“Try a year.” You let your head fall back against his shoulder.

“Fuck….” You closed your eyes. Your panties were soaked. Looking around the empty and dark street, the only light coming from the streetlamp next to the bus station, you decided to give in. He was right, you couldn’t wait until the bus was here. 

Turning in his arms you ran your hands up his back to his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him hard. He groaned against your lips and you opened your mouth for him as he picked you up and carried you to a bench where he sat down with you straddling him, his lips still on yours. 

“Are we really doing this?” You asked, moaning when his hands landed on your ass under your skirt.

“We better, otherwise I gotta somehow take care of this boner.” He grinned, making you laugh. You kissed him again, your hands holding on to his shirt, slowly running down his chest until you  felt the outline of his cock through his pants, making him hiss. 

“I always thought only pornstars have cocks like that.” You chuckled.

“A Veteran as a porn star?” He asked, his eyebrow raised, as if he was thinking about it. One of his hands opened the buttons of the blouse you were wearing, exposing your lacy black bra.

“You’ll be a rich guy. Can I be your manager?” You joked, biting your lip when both of his hands massaged your boobs, his fingers harshly pulling the lace down, to expose your nipples to him. 

“What do you want as payment?” He grinned, leaning down and sucked on one of your nipples, his eyes looking up at you. You felt his teeth pulling it making you whine, your hands flying up to hold onto his neck, your hips rolling on top of him, making him growl.

“Can we talk about that after you make me cum?” You whispered. The only answer you got was his other hand pulling at your other nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“Sy... “ You moaned. He released your nipple with a plop, making you breathe in deep as he leaned back at the bench, looking at you with hungry eyes as his hand pulled out a condom out of his pants pocket. You bit your lip, casually looking around to make sure that there wasn’t anyone around.

“We could stop…” he said. All you did was take his hand, bringing it between your legs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet, Captain. Any second thoughts?” You asked. He looked up at you, thinking, before you felt his fingers rubbing over your soaked panties.

“When we’re at your place…” He said quietly, pulling your panties to the side, as you opened his belt.

“I’m gonna fuck you on every flat surface that I can find.” You felt his finger exploring your pussy, making you breathe deeply to stop yourself from moaning as you opened the fly of his pants, your hand sneaking inside, not even surprised to find that he wasn’t wearing underwear. He hissed, when he felt your hand pull his cock out.

“I’m gonna fuck you, then I’m gonna let you nap and then you’re gonna wake up with my head buried between your thighs, eating you out ‘cause….” Two of his fingers pushed into you now, making you moan quietly. 

You began to pump his cock, honestly wondering how it would fit inside of you. Yet you weren’t someone who said no to a challenge. He watched you with dark eyes as he pumped his fingers, adding another one before he pulled out and brought his finger to his lips, moaning as he tasted you.

“I knew it. Like honey…” He shook his head with a grin.

“You talk too much.” You grinned, pulling the condom out of his other hand, ripping it open.

He cocked his eyebrow at you as you pulled the condom over his cock, pumping a couple times. He leaned over, kissing you again, his hands on your ass, pulling you closer to him.

“You will find out that I’m a man of my word.” He whispered against your lips.

“Oh I don’t doubt that, Cap.” You grinned, slowly pushing yourself up so you were on your knees. You rolled your hips up and down his cock, holding on to his shoulders.

“Stop teasing, ‘Hon. Or I’d have to bend you over my knee.”

“Is that a promise?” You asked as you slowly lowered yourself down, his cock pushing slowly into you, making you both hold your breath until he was settled deep inside of you.

“”Fuck, Captain. I’m gonna feel you for days.” You moaned, slowly grinding on top of him.

“Oh no…” He shook his head, thrusting once up into you, making you whimper.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll never even think of another cock.” He promised, his hands on your hips as you began to ride him. Everytime you moved, his cock rubbed over your G-spot. You were so wet and horny, it wouldn’t take long for you to fall apart. His mouth found your breast, sucking on the skin just over your nipple. You were sure you would have bruises once he was finished with you. But you would wear them with pride.

“Fuck…. I’m close already.” You sighed, arching your back, pushing your boobs into his face, which made him growl.

“Me too ‘Hon.” 

You put your hands in his neck and kissed him hard as he looked up at you. You felt his fingers on your clit, rubbing harsh circles, making you moan into his mouth as he began to thrust up, meeting you. You bit into his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth as you parted from him and came so hard, you saw white for a second. He fucked you through your orgasm, holding you close to his chest.

“God you’re so tight… I’m gonna cum.” He groaned. And as you were still trying to get air into your lungs, his thrusts became sloppy until you felt him twitch inside of you. 

“God I wish you’d cum inside me.” You whispered against his ear, making him groan.

“Woman, you will be the death of me.” He shook his head.

You didn’t even care if you looked like you’ve just been fucked as the bus arrived and you walked past the bus driver while Sy paid for the ride. He never let go of your hand, grinning at you, his eyes full of mischief. You didn’t believe in love at first sight… or fuck… but Goddamn this man and his blue eyes.

He motioned for you to walk to the back of the bus where he sat down and pulled you sideways on his lap so you could look at him.

Smiling, you ran your hand on his scruffy cheek, your thumb brushing over his lips.

“You are one of a kind, Captain.”

“And I’m at your service, Ma’am.” He grinned.  “How many stops until we’re at your place?” He asked.

“Eight.” You said, sighing. The grin on his face got wider, making you frown.

“Then you better try to keep quiet.” He whispered, before his hand disappeared between your legs.

[fourmarkdove]

Fawn.

Title: Fawn.

Words: 2.8k

Summary: Geralt stops into ye locale brothel expecting one the ladies to soothe his battle weary soul. You aren’t meant to be there and have no idea how to handle his needs.

Paring: Geralt x reader

Warnings/Triggers: Smut.

A/N: This is a multi-chapter beasty. I’m already up to 10k so I’ll be editing and breaking it up into chapters to post in the next couple days. I’ve held onto this for 3 months (?) and I still can’t figure out where I’m going with it past chapter like 8, so I may be asking y’all what you think when we get there. (Also, I need to go back and tag some folks.) Comments welcome. Thanks for reading!

~

It had been weeks since the Witcher had been through town, so when his massive frame darkened the doorway of the inn, the women who worked there scattered to put on their rosy lips and tighten their bodices just a bit more. In truth, none of them would have even asked him for a single coin. Being the one chosen to bed the Witcher later that night would have been more than enough payment for keeping his plate full, his drink topped off, and some easy company with curves to fondle while he consumed and brooded.

By dusk, the leather clad man was served enough of a steady stream of ale to just barely soften the lines across his troubled brow. His demeanor was still altogether sullen, leaning over his mug, shoulders rolled forward, silver strands of hair fallen around his weary features. The hunt had not gone well. 

He needed food, a bath and a hard fuck. Emptying himself out in the tight cunt of a pretty little thing would help clear his head. It might even afford him the chance to get a little bit of rest.

Mathilde, one of the more experienced women, saw Geralt always had proper company to suit his mood. Settling in next to him with a mug, she let out a labored sigh and sipped on her ale. His heavy lidded gaze glanced her way and an acknowledgement “Hmm” rumbled from his chest.

“You look tired, Witcher,” she noted, leaning heavily into his shoulder armor. “Why don’t you stay more than a night or two, my darling? Let Mathilde look after you a bit.”

“Hmm.”

That was usually enough to get him headed into a room upstairs but instead he sat back and downed the last third of his drink.

Mimicking his motions, she sighed and turned away from the room to whisper into his ear.

“Anyone caught your eye tonight, darling?”

Geralt looked in a drunken citrine haze around the room, but took pause at your figure sitting at the hearth, tending to the fire.

“Hm,” he grunted, motioning with his chin, before sipping on the fresh pint just delivered.

Mathilde pressed her lips together and slipped her hand under the table to touch his knee. Lazily lifting an eyebrow at her advances, he waited in silence for more information. 

“She is new since you been here last, darling. Might not be exactly what you’re in the mood for tonight though love. Let’s maybe try Larissa? She can be bent over a sack of potatoes in the kitchen in about two minutes if you want an early night in.”

The slightest downward tick of his mouth indicated he was not pleased with her proposition. Returning his gaze to your outline seated by the fire, he grunted,

“Send the doe-eyed one up with soap.”

You’d barely seen the shadowy figure dragging his weary frame upstairs before Mathilde crossed the noisy room to where you were seated. 

“You’re up, girlie,” the mistress instructed without a drop of honey in her tone. “Take a bar of soap up to the Witcher.”

Willing your hands to stop trembling, you paused and pressed your back against the wall just outside his door. Shaky breaths felt like they could have rattled your body to pieces and left you collapsed on the floor.

You’d been saved the humiliation of participating in the activities all of the other girls were involved with by staying in the kitchen for the last few weeks you’d been at the inn. Knowing absolutely nothing about cooking, you still tried to make yourself useful. Carrots were cut in odd sizes at an achingly slow pace. Onions made you weep so much that you closed your eyes while cutting and sliced your knuckles by mistake. Collecting potatoes, you’d managed to get tangled in a thicket of thistles and stumbled back to the kitchen empty handed and covered head to toe in burrs.

Having absolutely no training about local flora and fauna, you assumed all herbs were created equal. You’d never have known the herbs next to the parsley were in fact poisonous had you not washed and cut them to put in the soup yourself. Just a few sprinkles of green on top of a spoonful of broth made you immediately sick. Your body revolted and cast up everything you’d eaten that day, over and over.

So you were sent out of the kitchen. Potentially poisoning patrons was apparently the last straw. You knew it was only a matter of time before you would be sent upstairs to perform other activities. And it made your hands sweat and breathing quicken so much that you started to see stars.

Just as you were feeling your legs might give out from under you, the door swung open.

The white haired man stood as a broad shouldered wall of muscle, leather pants undone low around his hips, shirt crumpled in his hand.

You were absolutely dwarfed small by his impressive size. Upon one last shallow inhale, the soap dropped from your hand and your eyelashes fluttered closed.

Catching your waist, he tossed his shirt at the foot of the bed, swept you over his forearm and sighed. He’d heard your rapid heartbeat, like a frightened deer hiding under a brush pile, from the other side of his closed door. Of course, he was used to a cool reception wherever he went, but making you faint dead away was not his intention.

Dragging you to the bed, he hummed a thoughtful sound. He’d felt the kind of expensive green fabric you wore under his rough hands many times, but never in a place like this. Dresses this soft came from fabric woven from far away places, which meant you’d come from money and belonged in a court somewhere not collapsed on his bed in a brothel in the center of nowhere.

Fortunately, he had more knowledge of courtly dresses than most men, particularly their quick removal.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he let you fall forward so your head rested against his shoulder as he reached for his silver dagger and slipped it right up your spine, slicing the ties laced across your back. Roughly tugging apart your dress, your body responded with a desperate gasp. 

With a shuddering exhale, your fingers grasped onto his thick biceps, trying to ground yourself as the dizzying sensation passed.

He made quick work pulling you free from the binding garment, slipping it down your shoulders, letting it pool around your hips.

“I’m… sorry… I don’t know… what happened,” you stilted, pressing your forehead into the crook of his neck.

“Why you ladies tie yourselves up in these fucking dresses I’ll never know,” he grumbled almost imperceptibly low. Slipping a hand under your hair, he stroked along your jaw and lifted your head with his thumb. “Better?”

You straightened up a bit and released your fingertips from their death grip into his upper arms. 

“Better,” you lied. “How may I… please you?”

Regarding you with amusement, he lifted a brow. “Please me? Keep breathing for a start.”

You bit your lip, and his golden eyes followed. You were uncertain how to say the things out loud that you were supposed to say. Even moreso, do the things you were in his bed to do.

You frowned in confusion when he reached around your hip and pulled back the covers.

“You can stay here tonight,” his voice resonated deep in his chest. “I’m going to wash up.”

“Can I help?” you asked meekly.

He tugged your bitten bottom lip from between your teeth with his thumb. “You can stay right here.”

Decision made, his weight lifted from the bed making the old frame creak. He went to the fireplace to add more wood before heading to the bath in the main part of the room.

Pushing your heavy outer dress down your hips, you remained in your underclothes and slipped your cold feet under the covers, pulling the wool blanket up to your neck. 

Geralt groaned as he sank down into the bath. Every muscle in his body ached.

Resting his heavy arms along the sides of the bath, his tired eyes finally closed and he rested his head back against the hot water basin.

Still alert like a snoozing cat, he didn’t move a muscle when you padded over, undressed and carefully held onto the edge of the bath to climb in with him.

You settled a long moment opposite him, drawing your knees up to your chest in the warm water. Fairly certain he was sleeping, you were allowed a longer look at him without those keen eyes flashing at you. He really was stunningly beautiful. Somehow that made what you were about to do even more difficult.

You were just inches away from touching his large hand holding onto the edge of the tub but he sensed your reach and grumbled, “What are you doing, little fawn?”

You gasped and froze, glancing at his still reclined and resting form.

“I… um…” you stumbled, pushing forward despite your racing heart shooting up into your throat. Wrapping your hand around two of his massive fingers, you pulled it underwater and his palm around your waist.

“You paid for this... room…” came your breathy voice, collecting every last bit of courage left in your body. Slipping over to him, you rose onto your knees before him, letting the water just skim the underside of your breasts.

His gaze became dark, pupils dilated, as he followed the water droplets rolling down your flushed skin.

He licked over his lip and flicked his gaze back up to yours after drinking in all of the soft flesh you were offering. His hand you’d wrapped around yourself flexed and pulled you flush to his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heart pounding like a horse’s canter under your palms. Nudging his nose to yours, you could feel his warm breath against your lips when he parted his and waited. 

It was so close and quiet and intimate and it surprised you. 

A man like him could take what he wanted. But he was stalled out, stroking your neck with his thumb and the curve at the small of your back, while you decided. Leaning just that tiny bit more forward, you gave his full lips a chaste kiss, long and lingering, before backing off, still just inches from his face, and gazed at him through your dark lashes.

It was more than enough encouragement for him to stretch his long neck and tilt his head just a degree, capturing your mouth with his. He kissed you like a man starved, filling all of his senses with your sweet, soft presence, inhaling deeply your scent and needing to taste your lips, feel your soft tongue, breathe the same breath with each kiss that he dipped to receive from you.

It filled your body with such heat, from your cheeks to your toes, overwhelmed with the sensation.

Dropping his head, he pressed his lips to your neck, leaving little nips down to your collarbone. Nuzzling your chest there he huffed in appreciation and lifted his gaze again, arching a brow. He had a mischievous glint in his amber eyes which you couldn’t help but smile softly at. It was then that you felt him cup your breast, massaging it gently in his strong hand. His thumb found the sensitive nub of your hardened nipple and you bit your bottom lip to stifle a whimper.

Your eyelashes fluttered closed when your foreheads touched. He nudged his nose to yours and told you in a gentle rumble, “I want to hear you.” 

Pawing your fingertips at the rock hard muscle atop his shoulders, you whined and let your head fall back, your hair spreading across the water as he lifted your body inches more out of the bath, kissing down your sternum, delivering hungry kisses to your warm flesh until his mouth finally found that nipple he’d been teasing.

Your whine turned into a moan as he hugged your hips to his chest. He caught behind one of your shaky knees and helped you wrap your squirming legs around his middle, never pausing for a second on the attention his open mouthed suckling kisses were giving your breast. Once it seemed he’d gorged himself on one breast, he shifted your body slightly and dropped his head down again to capture the second nipple in his mouth.

You dug your heels into his muscular back and threaded your fingers through his hair, arching and whimpering sounds you didn’t know you could make. Flattening his tongue along the swell of the underside of your breast, he lifted it past his lips and into his hollowed mouth, drawing you deep into him and suckling at such a slow even rhythm, rubbing your sensitive nipple into the roof of his mouth. Something like lightning shocked from your nipple down to your clit, making your hips jerk foreword violently. 

“Hmm,” he grunted approvingly, feeling the swell of the hood of your clit nudge against his stomach when your thighs tightened again. Even underwater he could feel your slick heat smearing against his taut skin.

The slightest flutter of gentle fingertips near your core made you gasp his name. Wrapping both arms behind his neck, you rutted into him, trying desperately to get more friction. 

Thick fingers slipped along your folds, coating you in your own sex, and a desperate ache pooled in your belly. Your hips rocked making waves in the bath and some spilled onto the floor.

“Careful there,” he teased, spreading two fingers around your core to stretch your center from outside. His thumb pad completely covered and deliciously circled your almost too sensitive clit. It made you cry out when he sped up thumbing over the tip of your swollen nub and then curled a thick finger over your clit hood, drawing down to his circling thumb. It was a motion and sensation and pressure you’d never even thought of to try yourself and it made your inside walls tighten and become thick with want.

Your fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, not meaning to pull his hair hard as you writhed into his hand and panted into his mouth. Your eyes were shut, and an almost pained expression tensed your features as you moved into his rhythmic ministrations.

His expressive eyes never closed for a moment, however. Black dilated pupils caught in the light and he gazed at you like a hunter to prey. He wanted to see the heave of your breasts and how they shuddered against his chest at the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to see how your eyebrows lifted and furrowed as if you were singing a song of ecstasy whose melody could only be heard by watching your beautiful features as he stroked your most sensitive parts of you. It was a melody you were writing together with every caress, kiss and muscle twitch.

You wrapped one arm behind his neck and pressed the other’s palm to his shoulder, giving you a bit of push and pull leverage against his anchored body. Your core was tightening and not willing to relax even if you willed it to.

“Fuck! Please don’t stop!” you cried trembling all over. 

He growled a pleased sound, snaking his tongue into your mouth which you licked at wildly. He was doing things to your body you’d never felt before. How were you supposed to tell him it felt better than the best feeling ever without having any words fully formed coming from your brain?

“You like that, little fawn?” he purred as your mouth crashed against his again.

“Ah-hah…” you mumbled into his mouth, coveting more of his strong tongue. You wanted to taste him, every inch of him, have his scent all over your body. The need was incredible.

The forearm holding around your hips eased tension and his free hand slid down to caress over the curve of your behind. You cooed and nibbled at his swollen lower lip, still slipping into his thumb and fingers at your front.

His one strong palm pressed under you from behind almost made a seat for you, and you were able to relax your thighs’ grip on his sides.

You gasped and dropped your head down against his shoulder, shuddering when you felt his thick fingers from behind slicking along your tensed up core and began circling with increased pressure where he’d been working to stretch you before.

Falling silent, your hips stilled and warm breath panting against his neck caught in your throat.

He could no longer see the impending orgasm written across your features when you buried your face in his neck, but he could definitely still feel the hard heartbeat between your legs kissing at his bare stomach. 

One slickened middle finger traced your opening, swirling over it gently at first and then pressed his fingertip into you.

His heightened hearing caught your mouse-sized whisper into his shoulder, “Please don’t…”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when he comforts you

This work, 当他安慰你, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

Victor plants his hand on the top of your head.

“Are you upset?”

Lifting your head from the table, your misty eyes tell him everything. You had harboured high hopes for a successful tender but ended up failing. All the work you put in was futile, and all the overtime by your employees came to naught.

You bury your head despondently into the crook of his neck.

“Victor, am I a failure?”

He takes you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

“No, you did very well.”

He pats your hair. 

“If something belongs to you, no one can take it away from you, and you have to hold on to it. And just because you didn’t get something doesn’t mean you didn’t put in enough effort. It could be meant to spur you on to even greater improvements.”

He’s always like this - revealing his tenderness during your weakest moments.

“But I feel like I’ve done my employees wrong. Just thinking about their disappointed expressions makes me...” You choke, the words lodged in your throat.

“You don’t have to apologise.” His calm voice is at your ear. “Once you’ve set your sights on a goal, you will not lose your way even with time. Everyone can see your hard work, and all of them believe that you can lead them into an even better future.”

You remain silent, keeping your arms around his neck.

“I’ve said it before. You can rely on me more often. I’ll never let you be alone.” 

[ GAVIN ]

“It’s late.” Gavin comments, walking towards you with a glass of warm milk.

You’ve been sitting at the windowsill for a long time, staring absent-mindedly out of the window. “Gavin, I’m really worried.”

Tomorrow, your company will be competing with others for a bid on a project. An inexplicable wave of worry has infiltrated your mind.

He sits by your side, drawing you into his arms.

“I believe in you. My girl has always engaged in fierce battles and never backs down. The hard work you and the company have put in will definitely have results.”

“If I fail, everything will return to ground zero.” You lean against him, greedily drinking in the scent which always reassures you.

"The way this project will be presented is in your hands. When facing competing companies, you are your most perfect weapon.” Gavin gently cradles the back of your head, bringing it to his chest. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

You snuggle into him. “I’m so fortunate to have you with me.”

After covering you with a blanket, he lifts you up, carrying you to the bed. “We’ll be together until we’re old and grey.”

Leaning over, he kisses your eyebrows. 

“Sleep. I’ll be with you in your dreams tonight.”

[ LUCIEN ]

“If I didn’t return early, how long would my Little Butterfly plan to sit here?” A gentle voice extricates you from your thoughts.

“Lucien...” You stare at up him, dried tear streaks on your face.

He sets down his luggage. “I heard about what happened from your employees. The working world is indeed dark. Bribery will never disappear.”

You do understand what Lucien is saying. Because of the bribery of a competing company, all the effort you had put in went down the drain. It’s just too difficult to accept it at this moment. 

Not knowing how to properly express the flood of emotions, you wedge your head in between your knees, sniffling.

He sighs, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “You have always been growing under the sunlight. But now that you’ve met the inevitable darkness, you must learn not to avoid it, but get used to it.”

“The person in charge said that the directors had already decided on our company, but...” Before you finish speaking, tears are already rolling down your cheeks. 

“In the business world, the words of many people cannot be trusted. In the end, you can only trust yourself.” Lucien looks into your eyes. “Even so, there are still many beautiful things in this world. To me, you are the source of all my miracles.”

He kisses the tears off your face. “Don’t cry, the dawn is breaking.”

[ KIRO ]

Your eyes snap wide open. “Kiro!” 

“Miss Chips, did you have a nightmare?” Kiro rubs his eyes and sits up to look at you. “Don’t be afraid, your superhero Kiro is right here.”

Still recovering from the fright, you tremble slightly as you cower in his arms. Recalling the endless darkness in your dream, you can’t help but tighten your grip on his waist. “I dreamt that my surroundings were pitch black. There weren’t any lights, stars, or the moon. I couldn't find you either.”

Kiro pats your back, as though he’s reassuring a frightened child. “That won’t happen, Miss Chips. When the path vanishes, I’ll rush towards you. The brightness of the stars will definitely eliminate the darkness.” 

Softening his voice even more, he adds, “And I’ll never leave you.”

With his comfort, your trembling gradually subsides. You angle your body slightly to further close the distance between the two of you. “Kiro, could you sing me a song?”

He brushes your fringe, which is damp with sweat. “I’ll sing whatever you want.”

He adjusts his position such that you can sleep more comfortable in his arms, then begins humming a song softly.

“Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are...”

Watching his girl drift off to sleep, he kisses your forehead.

“Goodnight, my little star.”

[ SHAW ]

You’ve always known that Shaw has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. He’d use lightning to scare tyrants, but will quietly collect empty cola cans for the elderly auntie who collects scrap waste. 

But this time, he really frightened you.

You’re currently at the convenience store purchasing cola for him. Just as you’re about to make payment, you happen to peer into a mirror. 

In the reflection, you watch as Shaw rushes to save a little girl from getting run down by a lorry. 

Your wallet falls to the ground, money scattering everywhere, creating tinkling sounds as they make contact with the ground.

“Shaw!” 

Not bothering to pick up the fallen items, you run towards the lorry.

Shaw is sitting on the ground and hugging the little girl. He spots you, and a familiar impish grin on his lips. “Hey, I’m over here. You’re going the wrong way.”

You hurriedly switch directions and rush towards him, tears flowing. “I didn’t know it was reflecting the glass, so...” You cut yourself off, noticing the large, bloody gash on his arm.

“What? Scared silly?” He stands up, handing the little girl to her mother.

“Shaw...” You reach out, wanting to check him over but not daring to touch his arm. He lowers his head, looking at his own arm. As though it’s nothing to him, he laughs, using his other arm to pull you onto his chest.

“Don’t cry, it doesn’t hurt.”

--

More translated and original works: here

--

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Seahorse (Spencer Reid x Trans Male!Reader) NSFW

Summary: Spencer and Y/N have always wanted kids. Here’s the time Spencer was brave enough to broach the subject of how they would go about it. Plus a few more times after that.

AN: @imagining-in-the-margins​ came up with the idea of Spencer’s trans bf having a baby amidst man many many prompts for Spencer x male!reader to indulge my daydreaming and I ran with this prompt. 

Thank you to @writing-in-april​ for being my beta on this one! Couldn’t have done it without you, beebs <3

This is the NSFW version. If you are under the age of 18, please do not read! Here’s a SFW version of the story.

Word Count: 5.7k words 

Content Warnings: Trans man is pregnant, coming off testosterone, impregnation kink, pre-op sex, allusions to Prison!Spencer.

Masterlist // Gif Credit // SFW Version

The halls echoed with the unbridled joy of little ones calling out “Nemo” and “Dory” at the sight of the clown and surgeon fishes. Spencer bounced on the balls of his feet as he looked around the next room in search of his goal. He stopped when Y/N spared a look in his direction, away from the tank that had captured his attention for a solid five minutes.

“JJ sent me a video of a shrimp solving a Rubik’s Cube the other day.” He grinned.

Ah yes. JJ had also sent Spencer a video of little Henry swinging a mini softball bat about just like Spencer had done. For one game and one game only he had insisted, despite Y/N’s own resolve that he looked hot in the kit.

The walk through the tunnel was the slowest slog Spencer felt, but it was the only attraction in the aquarium to properly distract him. Lights above them filtered through the water, bouncing off the painted walls of the tank in a blue glow. Various species in a perfectly balanced ecosystem swam around one another without a care in the world. A particular stingray flapped its body against the glass, and three children nearby laughed at its funny shaped mouth.

“I used to sit on my mum’s shoulders when we walked through these. Touch the ceiling as if I could pet the fishes.” And Y/N’s hands stretched up over him, his eyes following a shark that slinked overhead, “When I got too old, I’d just press my nose against the glass and stare back.”

Nerves returned at the sight of a circular tank in the centre of the room holding something familiar. Seahorses curled their tails around the plants that waved together like a crowd at a concert. Little babies bobbed about the parents, translucent and wriggly.

Spencer coughed and spoke while Y/N took in the creatures, “Did you know that the seahorse is the only animal where the male carries the children?”

Suddenly his throat was dry; the words he’d been rehearsing dragged to a halt. Y/N turned to face him properly, guiding Spencer to the left as a little girl stood on tiptoe to see the seahorses as he continued to struggle.

“Well, that might not be true actually.” Spencer choked a little on his words, his voice’s volume steadily declining into a soft whisper, “I know that some human men can have babies.”

Y/N’s face clouded with doubt for a moment. Then it clicked and his face cleared, “Spencer, tell me what you’re getting at.”

Spencer twisted his hands around one another, “Have you ever thought about us having kids… biologically?” He watched Y/N’s Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed hard

“You mean like me being pregnant?”

“Yes, have you considered it an option for us?”

The conversations of other aquarium patrons were forgotten as Y/N took his gaze away from Spencer. His eyebrows were low as he considered his words carefully. Y/N always thought about the implications of what he was saying, maybe a little too much. Spencer could be biased though; his impatience did not mix well with his anxieties.

Eventually, Y/N turned back with a brave face and said, “I’d have to think about it some more.”

“Ok.” Spencer nodded, his chin wobbling a little.

There was hope though: he needed to think “some more”. Implying Y/N had thought about this before.

Near the end of their trip, Spencer did find himself in a staring contest with a little seahorse plushie with large eyes and an anatomically inaccurate tongue hanging out. In all honesty, it was kind of ugly.

“Spencer, come on. You know how I get around stuffed animals.”

How empathetic his boyfriend really was, projecting feelings of love onto the inanimate objects then making the excuse that he had to buy it now.

Spencer did have to leave the toy behind though. Out into the sunlight of the parking lot, he winced before he put his sunglasses back on.

“Park?” Y/N offered his hand and smiled. It was an olive branch, something to say that Spencer’s query had not ruined their day out together.

Spencer accepted and squeezed his hand. “Park.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Y/N had a hand on their lower belly, some space between the fingers as if there was an invisible bump there to accommodate. His head had tilted while he thumbed over the air.

As drowsy as Spencer was from work, his mind was focused without a distraction on what he had seen through the ajar bathroom door. He could barely pay attention to the Doctor Who episode Y/N put on. In fact, he doubted anything could take his attention away from the idea of having a child with-

“What do you think about me being pregnant?”

Spencer’s eyes shot wide open, then they were covered slightly by his inquisitive eyebrows in his attempt find an answer. Especially with Y/N looking on him while he waited for him.

“I think you’d be so beautiful carrying our baby. But if you wouldn’t be comfortable, then I wouldn’t make you. We still have surrogacy, fostering, adoption to consider,” was his answer. Never a lie, but the truth was always softened.

Seemingly satisfied, Y/N looked back at the episode. But Spencer couldn’t wait anymore, forgetting about anything else in the world except for this.

“What do you think, Y/N?” His body leant in towards his boyfriend’s.

Squirming in their spot on the couch, Y/N hummed before he answered, “I froze some of my eggs before I started my transition. I also sold some, for a down payment on a house or my wedding.”

Spencer’s heart thrilled at the possibilities. A house together? Matching suits at their wedding? He almost neglected to think about the fact that pregnancy was suddenly a very viable option for their future.

Regardless of Spencer’s many, many thoughts, Y/N continued, “And I thought that perhaps, if I found the right person, I would like to carry their child.” His palm opened up to him and Spencer instantly took it. “I know you’re the right person, but I’m not sure I want a baby now.”

“Of course,” Spencer lifted Y/N’s hand to his lips, “Whenever we’re both ready.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer pushed the dirty bedsheets into the washing machine; it wasn’t that big a deal. If the blood didn’t come out, then they could always buy a new set. Although they should really be saving money for decorating the nursery.

“Spenceerrrr.”

As the machine rumbled into life, Spencer returned to Y/N, curled up on the sofa with a heat pad to his gut. No amount of warnings from their doctor could have prepared Spencer for how emotionally straining it was to see his boyfriend suffering. Y/N was taking this a lot harder than Spencer – and rightfully so, it was his body that was changing.

“Why did I have to have such strong paternal instincts?” He grumbled with his eyes still closed.

Spencer let out a laugh, but it was cut off quick when Y/N whimpered loudly. He knelt down before him and cupped his face. Y/N’s cheeks were warm; his hands clung to Spencer’s wrists like a lifeline.

“What do you need?” Spencer asked softly and Y/N sighed, keening into his cooler palms.

“Can you tell me I’m handsome please?”

“You are the most handsome man in the world, and I adore you every minute of every day.” Spencer kissed Y/N’s pouting lips gently, “Handsome inside and out, I never wanna think about life without you. You just make everything in my life better.”

His fingers moved to brush away a tear that slipped down Y/N’s face and over the ridge of his nose. But he missed and it dripped onto the pillow.

“You’re doing so much for us, for our baby.”

“It’s not even real yet,” Y/N sniffled. His hands finally released Spencer and pressed the heat pad into him.

“It’s gonna be.” Spencer bumped their noses together, “We’re gonna be dads.”

A hoarse laugh met with a hint of a groan in Y/N’s chest, “Yeah. We’re gonna be dads.” That sound and those words were all Spencer needed to feel better. But he wished the same could be said for Y/N. The only thing he could provide was a promise of future relief:

“How about we order in tonight?”

“Ugh, yes.” Y/N burrowed his face into the pillow.

When their bed was made up properly, Spencer and Y/N cuddled together. Unfortunately, Y/N was restless, trying to find a comfortable position while his painkillers kicked in. Spencer kept his complaints to himself, allowing himself to be shifted around in Y/N’s hunt for relief. Honestly it was the least he could do.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“The reproductive process begins when a male and a female seahorse do daily pre-dawn dances, intertwining their tails and swimming together.”

“Well, it’s nearly nine, so definitely past dawn.”

“I’m trying to be romantic, Y/N.”

Y/N adjusted the bed sheets around his middle, “We don’t have tails either and - if I remember correctly - your last sexy swimming encounter ended poorly.”

Spencer flushed at the memory of Lila in the pool; another memory turned the pink to red. Y/N had laughed so hard his gut ached when Spencer told him about how awkward he had been around Lila. This was before the context of the case had been disclosed, promptly removing the space for any more laughter.

“Baby?”

Y/N was touching his face. Spencer’s head emptied itself of all thoughts of Lila. This was not what he wanted to be thinking about right now. Y/N’s laughter maybe, but none of the rest.

Tucking a curl behind his ear, Y/N leant in close, “If I’m ready, and you’re ready, you know what happens.” His eyes wandered down Spencer’s face, “And it’s not swimming together.”

But, just as their lips were about to touch, Y/N jerked away from him. “Wait, I gotta brush my teeth first.”

Spencer moaned with indignation while falling backwards onto the bed as Y/N disappeared from view. A few seconds later, he heard the electric toothbrush buzzing. With a burst of energy, he stripped himself down to his underwear – a petty way to get back at Y/N who had made it very clear that undressing Spencer was one of his favourite parts of their sex life.

When Y/N returned, with the minty freshness he apparently desired more than his own boyfriend, he said “What? You already did this morning?”  His eyes looked down at Spencer’s chest and his lips twitched into a pout. 

Spencer held back his grin, keeping his triumph at retaliation to himself as he said, “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard, Spencer.”

And with that, Y/N crawled onto the bed, over Spencer’s body and kissed him silly.

Any remaining thoughts of sleep were dispelled as the men took turns worshipping each other’s bodies. Impatience chased them in their desires, deliciously enticing them to push the pleasure further and faster. While Y/N kissed his neck, Spencer’s thoughts fixated on how perfect his boyfriend felt pressed up next to him. He couldn’t wait anymore, he just had to get inside him.

“Let me put a baby in you, Y/N.”

A whine passed through Y/N’s lips at his words as he adjusted his grasp on Spencer’s body, a hand in his hair to pull him back in.

“Do it.” He whispered into the space between them, “Please.”

As quick as they appeared, the insecurities Spencer and Y/N were holding released. Their moans harmonised when Spencer finally pushed into Y/N. His legs wrapping around his skinny waist, luring him in. Spencer was enraptured by the feeling of his boyfriend’s weight against him. God, he wanted to go slow, appreciate Y/N for all he was worth. But his greed got the better of his intentions, eating up all of Y/N’s encouragements – both the words and the noises snatched from his throat.

When they were both spent, Spencer and Y/N sagged into the mattress, wrapped up in each other and the covers. The burning warmth of their bodies drew up two soporific smiles on their faces.

“You know, a seahorses’ body shape means that they’re inept swimmers, and they can actually die of exhaustion.”

Y/N poked Spencer’s sternum. “Is that your way of makin’ fun of my stamina? Give me a few minutes; I’ll be on you like a rash.”

Grinning at such a prospect, Spence continued, “They also mate for life monogamously.”

He felt two fingers touch his cheek, "Spencer, I love you and your endless fountain of knowledge.” Y/N paused to peck the corner of his lips, “But I’m not actually a seahorse. And, though I do plan to mate with you for life, if you wake me up before the sun is above the horizon for a ‘dance’, I'm gonna suffocate you with my new body pillow.”

“Oh, you got your pillow?”

“It’s en route.” Hence why Y/N was content to use Spencer in lieu of said pillow.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

When Spencer disclosed to Hotch that he would need some time off because he and Y/N were considering having a kid, first thing on a Monday morning, Hotch didn’t let anything on. There was a hint of a hint of a smile though. His eye wandered to the school photo of Jack he kept on his desk, and he was greeted with the memory that Jack almost shared a name with Emily’s cat.

Naturally, Rossi found out next. Technophobe Spencer Reid had left his computer screen on a website for baby blankets, and Rossi had been the one to pass by first. After turning the monitor off, Rossi took Spencer aside in the break room and spoke about how wonderful it was that he was going to be a father. Then he kissed both his cheeks, leaving with misty eyes and a smile that he wouldn’t explain to Penelope passing by. Spencer blinked then finished making his coffee.

The next conference room meeting – the same day and just for an update on the paperwork deadline - Spencer simply decided to drop the information that he and Y/N were planning on having a kid as if it was his thoughts on their next unsub’s motivations were.

Three seconds of silence later and an uproar exploded.

From then on, the week was filled with pokes and ribbing at his upcoming parenthood. A peek into the future.

After making her a cup of coffee, Spencer sat opposite JJ at her desk and asked for advice. Her response: offering Spencer the opportunity to babysit Henry more. Obviously he accepted; more time with his godson was always a good thing. Then she went into how parenting was just a natural thing that he would know when the time came. Not very reassuring on its own, but with his best friend’s support, Spencer felt a smidgen better.

Penelope admitted that she had saved outfit ideas on Pinterest for Spencer – among other members of the BAU. When Spencer dared to enter her lair, she showed him several. Apparently that wasn’t even a dent in her collection, and she had already placed an order on a little bow tie. Spencer left before she tried to organise a shopping trip; neither Spencer nor Y/N were really fans of retail therapy.

Derek was teasing away, “Spencer and Y/N are gonna be baby daddies.” And every single time, Emily would join in. She liked to claim she was the reason Spencer was having a kid, reminding him of when JJ was pregnant. He had been incredibly weirded out by the baby kicking, but Emily had asked if he had considered having “baby geniuses” and he never gave an answer.

To be fair, Spencer never could have seen this coming. That made it all the better.

Apart from when Derek began supplying a realm of baby names, that varied from “oh that’s actually cute” to “oh my god, why would you even consider that a name for a real child?” Spencer was happy to rank them aloud for him.

The cat was only half out of the bag though.

Now Spencer had always been affectionate when he and Y/N were together. But the second it spilled into their public lifestyle, Y/N knew something was afoot. He was quick to pick up on this when he went to collect Spencer up for a chilled date night and Spencer kissed his cheek in clear view of the entire bullpen.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t wait, but I do have my paternity leave arranged!”

The team swarmed to deliver their congratulations. And it was then that they revealed that they all thought that Spencer and Y/N were planning to adopt or look for a surrogate. Their embraces didn’t spoil the unexpected second part of their announcement; Y/N looked like he’d simply put on a few pounds rather than gained a baby bump beneath his button-up. Naturally, there was even more of a hubbub than before when they discovered that Y/N was already pregnant.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Spencer, baby, you gotta calm it with the ocean theme.”

“But…” he pouted, holding up the finished mobile. Brightly painted sea creatures and chunks of coral dangled delicately in a circle. Sure enough, there were orange seahorses hovering about their habitat.

“It’s very sweet and I adore you for it,” Y/N kissed Spencer. “Not everything has to be related to seahorses though.”

“I guess not.” Spencer’s defeated tone did not last long. His face brightened and he whipped a blanket adorned with little seahorses and bubbles at the edges out of the cot. “But - this online store was taking commissions, and you always say support small businesses!”

Thank god Y/N had been the one in charge of painting the walls. An underwater mural would have been a step too far.

“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, are so…” Y/N’s hands were up in the air between them, searching for an adjective to describe Spencer appropriately. Then he settled those hands on his shoulders and Y/N kissed him.

When they drew away, Spencer spoke, “I’m so what?”

Y/N shrugged, “Just so.” He kissed him again, lingering longer than before and smiling as Spencer’s hands touched the obtrusive roundness of his belly that pressed into Spencer’s stomach. They were so close to meeting their little bubba.

“So are you.”

“Ok, don’t have a go, I bought this before the ban,” Y/N held out a gift, wrapped in sea-green tissue paper and bearing a blue bow.

Folding the blanket neatly over the bars of the cot, Spencer eagerly yet daintily unwrapped the present. As the tissue paper fell to the carpet, his hands trembled.  Eyes shining, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the latest scan that was framed by tiny seahorses to thank Y/N.

There was more still, as Y/N explained, “There’s another behind there. I’ve seen the state of the one in your wallet.”

“It got caught at the bottom of the pouch,” Spencer said quietly, unbending the catch on the back of the frame. Sure enough, two of the same photographs spilled into his waiting palm. Truth be told, Spencer had already taped his torn photo together again and it was going to stay in his wallet. This spare would be in the post soon, on its way over to his mother. God, she was so excited to hold a baby again. The photo album would have to do for now.

“Could you maybe recant the ocean ban? Because I saw this and I knew it would really go well with the blanket and the mobile.”

Sighing, Y/N’s head tilted back, “What is it?”

The pretence of annoyance couldn’t be maintained towards Spencer’s face beaming back at him as he held up a wonky looking seahorse plushie. It wasn’t the same one he’d seen before. Some heartfelt child had taken pity on that one and given it a forever home. No, this was a perfect little present for his bubba.

Y/N thought so too as he let a grin settle onto his face.

“Ok, we can keep this one. But no more from now, alright?”

“I suppose. Besides, our baby isn’t our seahorse. You are!”

“You better not buy us a fish tank for my birthday.” A spike of nerves hit Y/N when he couldn’t quite catch Spencer’s eye to confirm his word. “Spencer? Promise me... Spencer!”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“How are you feeling, Baby Daddy?” Derek hugged Y/N who was reclined in his bed. His body pillow propped him up for his visitors.

Y/N wrinkled his nose, “For once, I wish I was a real seahorse and I could have just sneezed her out.”

Katia Nikola Reid definitely looked like she’d been sneezed on when she first entered the world, screaming her teaspoon-sized lungs out. Named after a hero of both Y/N and Spencer, one day old, bundled in a blanket, she scowled at Spencer’s dopey face looming over her while Emily held her tight.

A hoard of presents huddled in the corner of Spencer and Y/N’s bedroom. Emily thought it’d be a great idea to bring the baby an Ikea shark that was bigger than the child – and would definitely take up around half of her cot.

“She’s already got him wrapped around her pinky finger.”

“Yes, she does,” Spencer agreed giddily.

Next, Derek took her in his arms, untucking her arms from the blanket swaddle to give her a fist bump. He swayed her about the room while Katia relaxed a little more. The deep humming in his chest soothed the wrinkles on her forehead. Katia stretched as if to touch his face, and her mouth gaped at him.

“Aww, baby genius is ready for a nap.” Derek yawned too, “Who’s gonna micromanage me while I put her down?”

“Me! Me!” Y/N said, his enthusiasm muted by tiredness. Spencer leapt to his side, helping him out of bed, his teammates watching fondly as he did so. Y/N was allowed out the room first, Derek close behind and clicking his tongue at little Katia.

“She’s so sweet,” Emily said, her eyes on the pair’s backs and the dangling loose blanket from under Derek’s left arm. “I’m so happy for you both.” And she hugged Spencer tight; Emily always gave such good hugs. Good thing she was going to be around to give plenty to his daughter.

Then, down the hall, he heard Derek say with sarcastic resignation, “Oh Spencer, I thought Y/N was kidding when he said no more seahorse themed items.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Y/N ended up climbing into the bathtub with Katia. Even as she had grown into her chubby features, looking more and more like him and Spencer with each passing day, she was still so small.

Sitting up with her in his lap to help her out, Y/N lowered her into the warm water. His fingers tenderly rubbed the blackcurrant scented soap on her tummy, copying her expression as her tongue poked out between her gums. Her jerking legs rejected the water that Y/N’s hands cupped to rinse the bubbles off.

“Oh!” Y/N said in surprise as Katia sneezed, “Bless you.”

He heard the front door go, but he let Spencer follow the clues to their bathroom. Sure enough, the Doctor soon entered with his jacket shed, already rolling his sleeves up as he dropped onto the bathmat. A hand curled at Y/N’s chin as he kissed him before it stroked over the damp wisps of hair on Katia’s head.

“Hello. Hi.” His voice was that bit more delicate as he caught Katia’s eye and welcomed her big gappy smile.

Y/N tilted his head towards Spencer. “Good first day back?”

“I missed you both.” Spencer swished the water around by Katia’s side, “Isn’t it incredible how she’s experiencing all of this for the first time?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Spencer giggled away as the surrounding bathwater yellowed and Katia flapped her arms.

“Mind your language.” He said without any weight to his warning, “Our little girl can’t help it.” Then he stood and prepared her towel, a deep-sea blue that brought out her eyes. “Can I feed her tonight?”

“Of course, baby,” Y/N agreed as he lifted Katia out of the tub, where Spencer caught her and bundled her up with skilled speed. As he dried her off, Katia cooed away to herself. She did get a little pissed off when he dressed her up in a clean nappy and a sleepsuit, but Spencer couldn’t take her crumpled expression seriously without the tears.

The rocking chair had to be one of his best investments for his daughter’s room. It soothed Katia from the darkest of tantrums, a familiarity that swayed her. She fit so perfectly into Spencer’s arms and he fit so contentedly into the seat. Her eyelashes fluttered slowly shut as she drank more milk.

Not quite strong enough to sit up on her own, Katia leant fully into Spencer’s hand while he burped her – thankfully not for long. Then it was off into her cot.

Y/N watched him from the doorway as Spencer stroked the apple of Katia’s cheek while she drifted off into slumber. An effortless smile danced on his lips even as he switched the lamp off and welcomed Y/N over to see their sleeping babe.

“Love seeing you with her, Old Daddy Spencer teaching her everything she’ll need to know.” The kiss that followed was certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s nursery, so he took Y/N by the hand, leading him into the hallway. Even then, between the short pecks that pressed against his lips, Y/N continued to talk, “Is this how you felt while I was pregnant?”

Breath hot against his face, Spencer swallowed hard while Y/N said, “Seeing my handsome boyfriend carrying our child? I think I get it now.”

His hand slipped up Spencer’s shirt. It was crystal clear what his intentions were. Spencer was already close to panting when he pulled Y/N flush against him. With more desperation this time, they fumbled around their home until they made it to their bed. Spencer’s hands aligned with the stretch marks on Y/N’s thighs as he grabbed them and pulled him on top.

He huffed as Y/N’s teeth tugged and released his bottom lip, “We have to be quiet.”

“I can be quiet.” Y/N ripped off his shirt in one smooth movement, “Can you?”

Spencer couldn’t give an answer. Instead he pulled Y/N back against him as they fell onto their sheets.

Their first time in months, it didn’t last very long, but it was exactly what they needed.

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 The biggest surprise of the evening was that Rossi put down his drink to hold Katia. To be fair though, he had already had a few. Hence why he was singing and dancing around the garden with Katia in his arms. What a sight to behold, it eased the pain of Derek and Hotch’s absence, their own kids to take care of now.

Eventually Rossi relented, allowing Penelope to take Katia, turning to Y/N who had kept a watchful eye on his actions, “Promise me you’ll bring her over when she’s allowed to eat food.”

“I can’t give her your food for her first taste. She’ll be disappointed for the rest of her life,” Y/N joked, Rossi letting out a boisterous laugh that made Katia giggle in turn.

Penelope got to hold Katia next and show her off to Henry who was very intrigued to learn more about his godsister – Spencer told him that was who Katia was and it stuck. Henry became Penelope’s little shadow until they found a seat for him and a cushion for his lap to hold the baby. His joy unbridled at such a responsibility was adorable. He posed for many photos, while Katia for once stayed quiet.

Spencer was tired but the best kind of tired. A night in with friends, watching his boyfriend and his daughter be welcomed as much as he was, it wasn’t a surprise but it was always a delight. And this moment right now, Y/N cradling Katia’s with one hand squeezing her little foot before he planned to take her into Rossi’s office? What a life they had cultivated together. As he sipped his drink, the bliss in his tummy was not doused by it.

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Slouching on the sofa, Spencer watched with tired eyes as Katia stumbled in the room, her hands held in Y/N’s while she waddled between his legs. Her round face lit up at the sight of Spencer. Her pace increased beyond her abilities and Katia swung forward a little as she almost fell over.

“Oh dear,” Y/N cooed while Katia got back to her unstable feet. “That’s it, there we go.”

Spencer wished he had the energy to properly appreciate this moment, especially since both his boyfriend and their daughter were grinning like they shared a secret.

Katia dropped down onto her nappy-cushioned bottom then began to crawl over to Spencer’s feet. His hands, although dirty, rough and near ruined, accepted her offer and lifted Katia up into his lap. They stayed for safety around her middle, keeping her sat up straight as she looked on him with those big eyes. Eyes that were fresh and untainted copies of his own.

Y/N sat down beside Spencer, leaning in close to Katia so he caught her attention, “Hey, why don’t you show your Daddy what we’ve been practicing?”

Looking away from both her Dads, Katia drooled and pushed her fist in her mouth. Y/N waved until he and Spencer were back into her line of sight.

“Go on, sugar plum.” He pointed to Spencer, “Who’s that?” And he mouthed the answer to her.

“Dadadadadada.”

It was barely above a whisper. But her little grin, the top of a tooth poking out of the centre of her bottom gums, the way Katia looked at Spencer when she said it? A soft “oh” fell from Spencer’s lips and he clutched her close, her chubby arms barely reaching around his neck. His breath shaking out of him, he kissed the thick thatch of hair that had sprouted in his absence. He could feel Katia whispering “Dadadadada!” again.

“That’s me, Katia, I’m your Dada.” He sniffed back the sting in his eyes at the absolute proof that, in his time away from her, she had remembered him. When he moved away, placing Katia back into his lap, he closed his eyes as Katia’s scrabbling fingers rubbed across the tip of his nose.

Katia made a sudden attempt to stand, throwing her entire bodyweight towards Spencer. Spencer’s breath was snatched from his lungs and the tension remained even after he caught her with ease.

“You ok?” Y/N said and Spencer noticed that his hand was supporting his against Katia.

Spencer nodded weakly, “Hmm, you?”

“Better now.” Y/N let his hand go and began rubbing Spencer’s back in the same circular motions that Spencer rubbed Katia’s.

A tug snagged Spencer’s head to the left and he tutted as Katia grabbed at his cheek, “Ow, Katia, no.”

Instead, Katia took a fistful of the next thing she could find, which was Spencer’s hair, and she cried out an identical (if higher pitched) “Ow!”

“You hurt Spencer, not the other way around, Katia. Stop faking.” Y/N scolded playfully.

But Katia repeated Spencer’s outburst again, “Ow!”

Y/N lifted Katia’s little fist from Spencer’s hair, and it immediately clamped down on Spencer’s finger as an alternative to wave about.

Spencer kissed her hand, still so tiny and forgiving against his. He looked at Y/N, blinking fast as he half-heartedly said, “She’s so like you.”

The lock of hair Katia had yanked on curved around Y/N’s touch as he put it back into the disarray of fluff that stood around Spencer’s head, “That’s funny, because I think she’s so like you.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Tilting the pram onto its back wheels, Spencer pushed it up the step and into the aquarium tunnel. Katia lay back in her seat while gumming on her blanket corner. Her eyes were ready to take in the sights.

Y/N knelt before her, suffering a few kicks to his knees from Katia’s excitement. Her pram clips were undone. Little Katia was released into her Daddy’s arms then plonked up onto his shoulders. Her starfish-like hands pressed up against the glass. Her mouth became as wide as her eyes as she pointed at the stingray rippling past. She had seen fish before (Carl and Rosalind at home) but never like this.

“Yeah, that’s a ray, Katia,” Y/N rubbed his fingers over her back, his hands still to keep her steady.

Spencer pointed his finger right next to hers, “They use their electro-sensors, not their eyes, to find their meals which consists of shrimps, clams, and -”

Katia shrieked – interrupting his and she smacked her hands against the glass. No one seemed to mind though. Some patrons in the tunnel even chuckled at her behaviour. Like she needed any more encouragement, especially with Y/N grinning up at her and tickling her sides to elicit more laughter from his daughter.

When Spencer’s hand dropped, Katia shouted again. A little confused, he returned it and Katia took his finger in her hand then began dragging the tip across where the ray was.

“She wants it as a pet, what do you say, baby?”

“I thought you said not to get you any fish for your birthday.”

Eventually Katia was returned to the pram. Her head was thrown back to watch the rest of the tunnel go by. Then she hid her face in her blankie once they were out in the last few exhibits. There was a little tug of war to get her to let it go (she was a lot stronger than Y/N gave her credit for) and see the one other exhibit that both parents were invested in.

Taking her hand again, Spencer squatted beside the pram. “Hey look, the men seahorsies have the babies. They’re just like your Daddy.”

“Your favourite Daddy,” Y/N ruffled Spencer’s hair while Spencer pretended to be outraged. Katia caught onto the dramatic expression Spencer was wearing and copied him with a gasp added for good measure.

“What d’you reckon, any of these were babies when we went to visit last time?”

“Well, Y/N, the lifespan of these seahorses is approximately a year. So they could be.” He knew it was unlikely but, for the sake of the smiles on Y/N’s and Katia’s face, Spencer let it be.

[ackermans-freedom-inc]

Yoooo after that tattoo submission... Tattooed Levi?? Could be for Thirsty Thursday, too. Like just tattoos turning reader hella on and she likes tracing them during/after sex or smn. If otherwise, maybe like reader wants to get a tat? Or Levi's getting his first one? COULD BE OTHER WAY AROUND TOO FOR EVERYTHING. Like Levi being a lil hoe for reader's tat or somn 👀 YOU CHOOSE IDK

MY CAT FRIEND!!! Here is this monstrosity of a fic that took up almost all my time to thirst...Pls enjoy (; 

Not gonna tag this as thirsty thursday bc its mostly plot but still...v spicy. (I also apologize in advance to Star - somehow we had fics on the same day that had the whole “mine” thing so IM SORRY I WASNT TRYING TO DO IT AT THE SAME TIME O GOD)

Moot: Fake court! It’s like real court but staged – can be a part of a competition to see who can come up with the best arguments to a legal question, or just for fun!

Summary Judgement: dismissing a case before it goes to trial

My friend: what opposing counsel calls each other in court

Receiver General: the entity that takes and makes payments to the government (like for taxes etc)

I think that’s all the vocab…pls hit me up for more vocab if there’s something you would like explained!

((Continuation of my lawyerAU series – read THIS for all the deets, but basically, reader is in mergers and acquisitions, Levi is a senior partner of Tax, and shares Hanji as a legal secretary between himself and reader.  Erwin is the managing partner; Petra is his secretary. Mike is another lawyer, his secretary is Moblit.))

_____

Moot

The whole firm was abuzz, all the practice groups and their partners and senior partners gathered around the in the massive library at the firm. Where the desks usually were was now empty, save for a podium, a judge’s stand and a chair for the witness.

It was moot day.

A rare occurrence at the firm to begin with, the associates and first years got to see the moots happen around once a year, but this time. This time would be special.

Levi was for the plaintiff, and everyone came out to watch him moot. The man rarely went to court these days, most of his cases either getting dropped by opposing counsel when they realize who he was or settling for a more than fair amount he would negotiate. Not many people got to witness his performance in court, but if Erwin’s recounting of their law school days were anything to go off by, Levi was an absolute powerhouse.

The poor bastard that started this, was Jean. He was an associate, a good one at that, but had gotten a little cocky after landing a client. Yes, the client was a family friend of his, and yes, they called him ‘Jean-bo’, but they were a client, nonetheless.

All the other associates had gotten tired of his constant bragging that he was the best associate of the bunch and had ruthlessly put his head on the pike when it came to moot nominations.

Oh, the way the blood drained from Jean’s face when he found out he was Crown counsel against Levi. It truly was a moment to behold.

The two days to prepare were barely enough, even for Levi. He buried himself in books, research, and caselaw, sometimes asking you to help research. You did of course, happily. Anything if it meant you got to witness him demolish Jean in court.

Even just thinking about it had you rubbing your thighs together, the electric wave of desire shooting down straight to your core.

This morning, you had awoken without Levi beside you, and for a moment, you were shaken – until you realized he had left early to prep again. Clothes laid out for the day for you were on his side of the bed, and you knew your outfit would be matched perfectly to his tie. A little note lay perched on top of the hanger, “Sorry for waking up alone baby, I’ll make it up to you. See you at the office.”

He always knew you so well, your heart on your sleeve when it came to your feelings about him.

A look at the dress that was laid out, and you knew you had a better choice. Ignoring the cold of the floor, you walked over to your closet, taking out a dress, still with its tags on in from the corner, tucked behind some shoeboxes. It was a big day after all, maybe it was time to raise the stakes for both sides.

You walked into the lobby of the building, the security guard at the front desk already calling the elevators and authorizing your floor. You tried not to think it or notice it, but it seemed you were the centre of attention. Your heels clacked against the marble floor, your hair was freshly washed and fragrant, your jacket draped loosely over your shoulders, and the dress. The dress accentuated your figure in just the right way, hugging where it should. You felt hot, confident, and like you could take on the world.

Too bad you were just watching the trial today.

Hanji caught you putting down your bag in your office, returning some files and flicking through the messages left on your office line and checking your computer for any important filing dates that could not be missed and any client appointments. Your usual daily tasks could not be forgotten, even if your handsome devil of a partner was just down the hall, setting up his arguments.

A low whistle from your secretary had you blushing. They had noticed. A coy smile was all you replied with, leaving Hanji to cackle at their desk, wiping tears of mirth.

They walked up to you, holding your shoulders to admire the garment. It was a full black dress, a zipper spanning the front of it, at a tasteful angle.

“Does this…?” they asked, pointing to the part of the zipper you had undone, exposing some tasteful collarbone.

“Yup! Unzips all the way.” You winked.

“You’re going to make poor Jean choke on his opening arguments, and Levi rush through his closing statements just to get you home!”

“That’s the idea Hanji!”

You replied to a couple emails, set some dates with Hanji for client meetings and as the trickle of people making their way to the library started to slow, you checked your watch. Just about time.

Every time you stepped into the law library; it took your breath away. It was, had it not been for the dry volumes of case law that lined the shelves, you dream to own a library this large. Dark oak bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, coupled with those whimsical sliding ladders that helped you reach to the highest shelves made you feel like you were in a fairytale bookstore. The smell of the volumes and the gentle flick of the thin onion paper made you almost miss law school. Almost.

But today, the books were not the centre of attention. Today, all eyes were on the two men who were sitting beyond the bar. Levi on the right-hand side of the empty judge’s seat, and Jean on the left. Petra was playing the role of the clerk, and Mike was standing on the side, acting as bailiff.

Associates, other partners, and just about anyone else at the firm was sitting behind the bar in their seats, switching their phones off. You lost yourself for a moment, bowing to the crest of the court as you entered. You forgot you weren’t really in court, but your body moved on its own, upholding law decorum even when you didn’t need to. You had taken your seat just behind Levi, keeping quiet as not to distract him, but he must’ve felt your presence because he turned as you sat down, eyes glancing at your face before narrowing, taking in the dress you wore. You quirked a brow, fingers reaching for the zipper before tugging it down a couple of teeth before pulling it back up. You were playing with fire, in a courtroom no less, but hopefully…it would be worth it later.

Levi tore his gaze from you, scowling a little while he tried to regather his thoughts. A peek across the at Jean, he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to throttle the man, or you.

Jean had stars, stars in his damn eyes as he watched you settle in your seat. If he hadn’t been sitting at his desk, he probably would’ve fallen over or dropped his files by now as he gulped, eyes drinking in your form in that god forsaken miracle of a dress.

You noticed of course, and smirked, throwing a wink towards Levi. You really were in for it later.

Just then, Petra stood and walked away from her seat. When she returned, she held the door, voice strong as she announced, “Honourable Judge Smith presiding. Please rise.”

Shuffling and shifting in the room as all rose, Erwin sweeping into the library in his robes, before finding his seat.

“Court is now in session. Please note there will be no recordings of any kind. Please ensure phone and pagers are turned off now. You may be seated.”

Shuffling once again as everyone took their seats.

Blue eyes regarded the two men who sat in front of him.

Levi stood, approaching the podium at the centre.

“Ackerman, first initial L, counsel for the plaintiff Your Honour.”

Erwin nodded as Levi continued.

“The matter I bring forth today is one of summary judgement, on page 13 of your honour’s list of cases.” He paused for a moment to let Erwin flip through his papers.  

“Your honour, we are applying for summary judgement as my friend,” Levi gestured across the courtroom to a now queasy looking Jean, “has alleged my client failed to fulfill his obligations in paying to the Receiver General taxes for which the crown is owed. The basis for the summary judgement is based on the fact that my client did indeed apply for and receive a certificate that applied to the sale of his taxable property.”

Erwin nodded, thinking for a second before nodding to Jean.

“Counsellor, what are the Crown’s allegations?”

Jean stood, eyes flitting back and forth before he took a deep breath, voice surprisingly strong.

“Your Honour, what my friend has said is accurate in the sense that a certificate was applied for and received. The Crown is alleging that the certificate was not issued until well after the time limit of 60 days had surpassed post sale of the house.”

Erwin nodded again, turning back to Levi, who scowled.

“Your Honour, as per the Act, section 104 sub 3 states as long as the certificate was applied for before the time limit, it will be valid. This is supported by cases such as Jaeger v The Queen, Numbered Company v Attorney General.”

You squirmed in your seat, watching the way Levi held himself as he presented his case. Jean’s argument was good, but Levi’s was better. His cases were relevant, from high ranking courts that wielded more power compared to Jean’s cases that the frazzled man was currently trying to present to Erwin.

The words that came from Levi’s mouth in court proceedings were much different than the words he spoke in client meetings or with you in private. He was persuasive. So much so that you couldn’t help but agree with him, his logical reasoning flowing neatly from one thought to the next.

Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him across the courtroom, even without a jury, he was commanding the audience that assembled, his confidence in his abilities making a familiar heat start to rise in your stomach.

By the time you looked back up, focusing onto Erwin’s words, he was giving his verdict.

“Counsellors, the arguments made today were well presented and persuasive. However, applying the law, I must find for the plaintiff. The charges do not stand.”

Looking back at Levi, he spoke again, “Any other matters Counsellor?”

Levi shook his head. “None your honour, I stand down any additional matters for today.”

Erwin looked to Jean, who said the same.

“Dismissed, court is adjourned.”

Erwin stood, and the entire gallery did as well, before he shuffled from the room. He almost immediately came back in however, this time without his robe.

He clapped a still somewhat green tinged Jean on the back, complimenting him on a job well done, helping point out some aspects of his argument that could be improved while the spectators clapped, whistles from the other associates and students making the man blush a little with all the attention. Even you shot him a thumbs up, making the man turn a bright red as he shakily gave you a thumbs up in return.

Erwin then moved on to Levi, smiling fondly at his old friend. “I expected you to hold back your punches Levi, poor Jean got no mercy from you.”

“That’s what you get. I consulted on the Act; it was an unfair fight from the beginning. Jean, you performed admirably. I was nervous for a second.”  

Across the room, Jean nearly swooned. Compliments from both the Managing Partner and Senior Partner were too much. All he could do was smile and thank everyone over and over again as a hand rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Alright you lot,” Erwin’s booming voice took back control and attention, “Get out of here, unless you have client meetings or cases to prep for trial, get out of here. Take an early day. You all earned it.”

Levi didn’t need to be told twice, already packing his briefcase. He strode past the bar, bowing to the court before he met you by where you stood, throwing his suit jacket over your shoulders.

You watched, nibbling your lips as he dropped his winged cufflinks into his jacket pocket which now hung at your sides before rolling his sleeves up. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Revenge for your sexy little outfit.

His forearms were revealed with each flick of his wrist, and soon, our favourite sight – tendrils of ink – appeared into view as he took your hand.

“Let’s go home you little tease.”

~

Your fingers were at the buttons of his dress shirt even before your bodies were through the door. You kicked your heels off, not caring where they landed as you pulled Levi through the foyer and directly into the bedroom, his belt and suit pants coming off sometime during the frenzy.

Your hand came up to unzip your dress, but Levi swatted your hands away.

“Keep it on.” His voice barely above a growl. “I think I need to remind you of something that may have slipped your mind…”

His hand brushed against your cheek as he kissed it, “Mine.”

His licks and nibbles trailed over your jawline before he whispered in your ear, “Mine.”

His hand drifted down along the zipper of your dress, cold air making your nipples pebble as he revealed inch after inch of your supple skin.

“All mine.” He growled, grazing over your exposed and now goosebumped flesh

You could only nod in agreement, knees weak as you knelt on the bed, on all fours, your dress forgotten on the floor as you shed your now soaked panties.

“Please…” you begged, your wavering patience evident by the wiggle of your hips

Levi wasn’t about to bow to you, and you could hear the smile in his voice as his breath ghosted over your back. “Please what?”

“Counsellor,” you whimpered, something snapping inside you, “Fuck me.”

A grunt came from behind you as Levi’s hand found the perfect globes of your ass, still wiggling impatiently for him.

“Dirty little tease,” he scolded as you felt him rub the length of himself against your dripping folds, covering himself with your arousal.

“You going to be a good girl for me?” he whispered, the tip of his cock lined up against your trembling slit.

“Yes, yes, god Levi, please!” you begged, “Please please, I’ll be so good, take me, ta-aH!”

Whether he was at the end of his rope as well, or if it was your begging, but hands gripped your hips as he sank himself into you, the delicious stretch of him inside you never failing to make you throw your head back.

You needed more than just him inside you. You wanted him to move. You decided to take what you wanted from him, throwing your body back to meet his hips, your screams of pleasure muffled against the bedsheets as you leaned on your elbows.

Your moans were in line with each movement of Levi’s hips behind you, the way he angled his hips and the curve in his cock perfectly hitting that sweet spot inside that made you choke out his name in sobs.

You were so close, but you wanted more. You wanted mind-numbing, back-breaking pleasure.

“Le-vi…vi…more…more...fa-ah…faster!”

You felt the mattress dip as he planted a foot, gaining better leverage. When he reared back and plunged himself into you again, your arms gave out, your scream thankfully muffled as Levi hit some deep unknown part of you, your hands unable to do much more than fist in the bedsheets as you begged him to keep going, your orgasm coming any second.

His grip on your hips were bruising, and as Levi got closer to his own release, his hands moved to your ass, gripping a cheek in each hand, using them as a handle to keep plunging himself inside you.

He felt the first twitch of his release just as your walls tightened around him, wrapping him impossibly tighter and pulling him deeper into you. A rare growl escaped his lips as he shoved himself as deep as he would go, your spine a beautiful curve he knew would hurt the next day. He emptied himself inside you as your thighs trembled, barely keeping you upright. A hand around your waist and you found yourself on your side, muscles in your body still twitching.

By the time you caught your breath, the sun was casting its gorgeous orange glow through the window. The curtains were partly closed, but the light that filtered through illuminated the dark tendrils that decorated Levi’s skin.

Your fingertips traced them, making him quirk an eye at you before he shifted closer, letting you feel him.

Your soft touch travelled across his forearms, up his arms, tracing his biceps before you lost the trail of ink as it went over his shoulders.

“Why the pout?” Levi’s eyes didn’t miss a thing.

“Kind of wanted to see your tattoos while we were fucking…” you whispered, feeling another pang of desire.

“I think that can be arranged,” he chuckled, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Hey Levi…?”

“Mm?”

“What do you think of me getting a tattoo…? Maybe here?” You gestured to the space between and underneath your pert breasts.

Another dip in the mattress as you suddenly found yourself caged against the bed, Levi’s hands on either side of your head as he dipped his head for a harsh kiss against your lips.

“I think…I’ll fulfill that first wish of yours, and then when you get whatever it is you want done…I’ll make you have to take a day off work so I can thoroughly appreciate it.”

[4aloysius-porteu]

i really wish i hated you || tsukishima kei

masterlist | 1 | chapter 2  | 3

pairing: tsukishima kei x f! reader

sypnosis: It was an accident that (Y/N) met a certain tall, blonde male; a memory she isn't fond of remembering, but it is where it all started. And ever since, she magically makes her to his path. The image of the bespectacled man dwelled in her mind more than she thought. Tsukishima pushed away his softer emotions and denied their existence, or at least that's what he told himself. But then, he couldn't believe that this girl he labeled as a clumsy, unlucky creature who smashed his glasses is slowly bringing these strange emotions back to him. She might be irritating and dumb sometimes, but he couldn't get himself to completely hate her. Either that destiny was stupid, or he was blessed or cursed.

genre: fanfiction, fluff

wc: 1881

(Y/N) stopped her tracks upon hearing his voice and turned around to confirm, but it was true, much to her dismay. He held his black-rimmed glasses with its left lens and frame cracked. The girl's mind went blank. She hesitantly glanced at him a few times, hoping that he would forgive her or let the incident smoothly slide.

He hissed, "Don't think you can get away with this, miss."

She sighed in defeat. The kids approached her with worried looks. She patted her heads, accepting their sympathy. "Well, playtime's over."

"But we haven't finished the game!"

"Do you still want to play?"

"Yes!"

"Next time, when you see me again at the park. Onee-chan has to go now."

She bade goodbye to the children and walked towards the guy she hit with his friend. She looked at his broken glasses again and couldn't help but to let out an exhale with anxiety. This is the result of my stupidity...

"W-What do you want me to do?" (Y/N) slurred.

" I don't know, maybe you should fix it right here and right now." The blonde guy crossed his arms and frowned.

Why don't you just get to the point?

"Replace it."

Of course, she will have to replace it. What a question to ask. She mentally rolled her eyes.

"I'll check there out if there's an optical store, I guess you will have to keep an eye on me so that I won't escape?" She pointed to the nearby mall, walking distance from the park.

"What else? Nobody trusts a stranger."

They reached the town's mall and saw an open optical store, but (Y/N) remembered her wallet. She wasn't sure if there's enough money for her to buy glasses.

"On the second thought, can I buy the glasses tomorrow? I don't think I have enough money."

"No." He instantly replied.

"Tsukki," His green-haired companion interrupted, "Maybe we can give her a chance? What if she's telling the truth?"

"I need my glasses in my everyday life, and if she doesn't have the money, I'll be happy to spare her some, but she'll have no choice to be in my debt."

How merciless. It's not like (Y/N) could blame him, but if the same thing happened to her, she would treat them nicely. She looked around the store to find a pair of glasses exactly like his, as he demanded, with his friend helping her for 30 minutes. After she gets the correct measurements and eye grade, she emptied her wallet to pay for the damn thing,

"Here." She held out the new glasses in the case. "Take care of them, it costed my LAST savings."

He took them and wore them immediately, "I am taking care of my glasses, it's just someone 'accidentally' kicked a ball on my way and knocked them off. Thank you for the horrible experience."

He excused himself and walked away. His friend stayed to talk to her.

"I'm sorry for the way he acted, he's like this most of the times. Please understand," He bowed, shyness evident in his voice.

"It's okay, it was completely my fault, so I don't mind."

"It was an accident, though. Thank you for your generosity." He soon followed the blondie that headed first.

"That was mandatory, though." (Y/N) lightly chuckled to herself.

She got out of the mall to take in the fresh air, but her soul almost left her body when a bolt of lightning strikes a tree near her, setting it on fire.

"Oh, my fucking- Did the sky just attempted to finish me?!" She said, calming herself down and looking up. The clouds were much darker than earlier.

As the townspeople bombed the burning tree with water, she ran to her apartment before it rains. There, she dropped her things on the couch and flopped to her bed, thinking what happened on this day because of her own stupidity. She groaned when she held her now empty wallet.

"Argh! Why am I so unlucky?!"She threw her wallet in frustration.

"That tall, blonde, asshole! He didn't need to embarrass me in front of people! I didn't mean it! He could've waited for tomorrow for me to replace his glasses! He's so unforgiving!" She complained, hating the thought of the said guy.

She sighed, cringe, anger, and embarrassment filling her head as she hugged her pillow.

"May karma comes to him sometime," was her last words before drifting off to a nap.

A few days passed, she went out of the house again to buy food supplies in a convenience store. It was almost nighttime. The chilly wind blew to her face and the sweet scent wafted in the store. She picked up some junk food and meat first before stopping by the confectioneries section. While choosing what shortcake flavor to pick, she bumped into something that almost made her fall to the floor, if she hadn't retained her balance.

"Oof, I'm sorry..."

Or rather, it was a person she bumped into.

She looked up and recognized the face of the man. It was the guy she's kind of mad at, but this time, he didn't have his nice friend with him.

(Y/N) took a step back, "You!"

The male looked back at her, tilting his head, observing the girl. He spoke with a monotonous expression, "Do I know you?"

Her eye twitched in irritation, "He doesn't remember me?!"

"I was the girl in the playground three days ago! I... I replaced your glasses!" She said, hesitating on the next sentence.

"Oh." His eyebrows raised, "Did the midget learned her lesson not to play a sport she's bad at?" He mocked.

"I'm not even a soccer player to begin with! What are you doing here?"

"What? Am I not allowed to buy food in a convenience store like a normal person?"

"I've been buying stuff here and I've never seen a similar face I've met twice in a week or month. That's sus."

"Maybe you are following me."

"What do I gain by following a huge, mean person like you?" (Y/N) retorted.

"Perhaps you want to get back at me after what happened days ago even if it's your fault. I don't know. Ask yourself." He took his eyes off her to choose among the sweet desserts.

She paused, analyzing his comment, "Well, you aren't completely wrong..."

"So, I am being followed? What a stalker."

"Of course not! What you said might be possible, but it's not the case right now!"

Both of them have set their eyes on an item and surprisingly the same one. A strawberry shortcake in the middle of the section. Their hands both grabbed the object before staring at each other in annoyance.

"Let go." They chorused.

"I chose it first." Said (Y/N).

"I do not see your name in it. You let go." He replied.

"How about no?"

They glared at each other for a few minutes before (Y/N)'s brows creased deeper in the middle, knowing well that this guy won't back down. "Whatever, you take it. I don't care anymore."

"Wow, thanks." He subtly rolled his eyes then walked away.

It was very awkward in the cashier where she had to wait behind him. Damn, he's so tall. Does he play any sport? Is he human? Or probably just a walking, mean tree?

What happened in the park flashed in (Y N)'s mind again. The impact of the ball might have been so painful to him since he wears glasses, where it cracked. What if the shards got into his eyes? Her wallet isn't ready for more payments, but that isn't the issue right now. She was worried about his well being. Both of them got out of the convenience store and she called the blonde male before he could get away again.

"Uhh, hey!"

He looked over his shoulder a little, "What?"

"Are your eyes okay? I mean, your glasses cracked... shards could've got inside your eyes..."

"Yes, they're fine, fortunately."

(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief. "That's... good to hear."

"But if something happened to my eyes, I will not hesitate to find you and make you pay for an eye surgery."

"You're exaggerating."

"It's not impossible. Now, go home. Elementary school students shouldn't go past the curfew."

She frowned. If only he wasn't a stranger, she would've kicked his ass to hell.

"Oh, gladly. I wouldn't want to stay near a bootleg Eiffel Tower any longer. Have a good day for you."

The blonde male left without any more words. (Y/N) sighed again in mental exhaustion, having to finish a lot of things this night. She was walking straight to her home while thinking of ideas to put in her current project when she realized that he was still walking ahead in front of her.

Where is he going?

She made her footsteps lighter, not wanting him to think that she was following him. She was thinking where does this guy live or why is he walking the same route as she does. It's not wrong to know where does this asshole stay, right? This continued for a couple of minutes before he turned around.

"Will you stop following me?"

Her eyes widened, not expecting him to know that she was behind him, "Excuse me? I'm just walking to my place?"

"Really?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

(Y/N) looked around to find a way to escape. There, she saw her house that she almost missed because her mind was occupied, "Oh, look. It's my house. I gotta go!"

She waved goodbye to the blonde stranger, ran to her apartment, and slammed the door, dying from the awkwardness. She proceeded to the kitchen to drop the food supplies and to cook for herself as well. The salt in the cupboard reminded her of the rude, four eyes that she just met again minutes ago. That's when she realized, she kept calling him either insults or his evident physical features when he probably has a name. She could've asked for his name earlier, but shrugged the idea off, thinking that he will never give her his name.

The common thing to do after graduating junior high is to find a decent high school. (Y/N) is scheduled to have her entrance exams next week, so she has to spend time reviewing her notes these days. She opted to go to the prefectural library the next day to get further references as she isn't satisfied with the books she has. It was Wednesday, thus it was full of people who are also preparing for their entrance exams. With her stature, it'll be easy to pass in this crowd of people but she will have to ask for help because she can't reach the books at the top of the shelves.

After wandering around the crowded library, she found an unoccupied table to quietly study. She made her way to it, carrying the heavy books she needed that was luckily located at the bottom shelves. As she set the books on the left side of the table, someone did the same on the opposite side. She looked up to see who the stranger is, only to find out that the person isn't a stranger to her anymore.

"Oh, the midget stalker is here." 

©4aloysius.porteu.2021. please do not repost, copy, or edit. plagiarism is punishable by law.

[theodora3022]

Blue Burn Salvation

Pairing: Dabi x F!reader

Request: Do you think Dabi would steal his horrible father’s little sweet thing out of spite, but decides to keep her because she is so lovely?

Summary: When you picture your hero, a villain like Dabi does not come to mind at all. But he did save you nonetheless, and your hero demands compensation.

Notes: So this is a lot softer then intended, but I hope you still enjoy them! This is the first time I wrote him, so hopefully it’s not too ooc...

Previous part can be found here!

Warnings: Implied dub-con, implied breeding kink, general yandere content

When Dabi hear his father had taken a new young fiancée, he assumed that she is just a gold digger, marrying the old man for his reputation and fortune. Heck, you are the same age as Shoto! Girls these days would do anything for some cash.

Until he saw on the news how uncomfortable you are, how you want to stay away from that horrible man as far as possible. The way you put on a faux smile made him realize there is more to you then Endeavor’s latest trophy.

It was just a normal day for you. Well, as normal as it could be when you are forced to serve as a pet to the No.1 hero. Breakfast needs to be ready at seven, goodbye kisses are obligatory. Not to mention the usual ass grabbing and occasion strokes on your breasts. Even though Enji promised you would stay a virgin until the wedding night and you slept in a separate bed, it appears he is willing to do everything else.  Then all you can do for the day is watch the household staff doing their jobs, reading books approved by him to kill time. It could be worse, because the big man told you he expects a few good children out of you once you are wed officially.

From the day you were brought to this now empty mansion, Enji had put a silver-looking bracelet on your wrist. “Not that I don’t trust you, just in case something happens to you, this could help me locate you.” It also restricts your quirk, unable to communicate with plants anymore, crap.

You were in the greenhouse, tending to the daisies when the villain shown himself. Even though your quirk is restricted, it also gives you a chance to experience gardening in a traditional aspect.

“If you are here to kill him, he is not here.” Taking a glance at the infamous murderer, you quickly turned your attention back to the flowers. “He should come back around six, wait around.”

But Dabi would not stand this behaviour. Have you settled into the role of a submissive little wife so easily? The last time he seen you in person you were fighting him fiercely, roses with sharp thorns that can sting.

“How about we make a deal, doll?” An idea is starting to form in Dabi’s head, a wicked one indeed. This can both get to his father and let him have some fun too. Although he hates the man with very being, Dabi had to admit the flame man got some great taste in women, both his mother and now you. “I’ll get you out of this prison, give you a new life away from him.”

“Are you sure you are a villain? You sound rather chivalrous to me.” You tease, stood up from the flowerbeds to face him. “Come to save a damsel in distress, how very nice of you.” Brushing a leaf off his shoulder, you point to the bracelet on your wrist: “As long as you can get this awful thing off me, I will consider your offer.”

He shook his head. “What kind of fool do you take me for, sweet doll? Flattery would get you nowhere. A hero like you can easily get out once you got your quirk back.” Grabbing your chin swiftly, the other hand wrap around your waist, locking you close to his chest before you can say anything more.

“How does he like to take you? From behind or in the front?”

You turned scarlet red, almost wanting to punch his nose, but your senses told you this could be your only chance to get out. “Does it matter?”

“Why, yes. I can do it way better then him, you know.” How you look so flustered is breathtaking, and how you squirm from him is just pathetically lovely. If he can, Dabi wants to take you here and now.

You shook you head, unwilling to meet his eyes. “We...haven’t done it yet. He promised to wait until the wedding night.”

So you are telling him the old bastard have some humanity left in him? Understandable, with a cute little treat such as yourself, even the ruthless arsonist feels tempted to say yes to your every demand.

Feeling him lean close, you close your eyes, letting him get a down payment for his offer. If kissing villains is what you have to do to get away, you are willing to deal with it.

But instead those lips landed on your neck, roughly sucking your soft skin as you hiss in pain. You know it is going to leave a bruise, and that would make Endeavor furious. He already fired one male servant who only had just been a little too friendly with you, things like this make you want to just bury yourself under the tulips.

“I’ll get you out of here, and in return, you will join our cause. You are too fine to just be a breeding bitch for that man. So, do we have a deal?” He is close, too close that his breath is fanning your face, eyelashes brushing yours. Those turquoise eyes, almost identical to the flame hero’s--

Judging from your hesitate state, Dabi figured that you still have doubts about becoming a villain. “What, do you think Endeavor would give up this easily? He would hunt you down and tow you back here, and he will be less compromising.”

“Fine, Dabi. You got yourself a deal. Now please get me out of this damned thing.”

Melting the metal hoop is a breeze, and you were so delighted. I am doing this for my own selfish gain, Dabi reminded himself harshly, I am not helping her.

By the time Endeavor notices you are missing, you were already laughing with Toga in their hideout, braiding her hair into a nice fishtail as you made fun of the old man. Dabi is glad that you are getting along with the unhinged girl, that means the transition would be easy!

But at nighttime, you were pushed onto a soft mattress while Dabi started to peel off your red dress. “Dabi—I don’t think—”

“You betrayed him so easily, I had to made sure you don’t do the same to me, right doll?” Leaving a light bite on your collarbone, he seems to be enjoying your struggles. “And what’s a better way to make a woman stay then a child?”

This seem to be bigger mess compare to the last. That is what you get for making deals with the devil, you suppose. At least he is close to age, not like Enji who is about your father’s age.

“If you insist, but please be gentle.”You mentally prepare to just grin and bear it, as this is what his deserved.

“No promises, Doll. You’re too delicious to let me hold back.”