#the jacket is just a little less prominent

[forgettable-au]

Started doing character ref sheets! FINALLY!

Should have done these WAY sooner in the process

Gonna finish Sans and Alphys later, but have these for now :D

[darkmatilda]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you got used to running away from the consequences of your actions, but it turned out to be incredibly difficult when the consequences are your coworker and their name is spencer reid.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!baureader, canon typical violence and topics, season 1/2 reid, GLASSES REID, queen elle greenaway herself, gideon being a little creep (as usual), reader clearly ovulating lmao, mention of a trauma connected with drowning, mention of one night stands of the reader, inspired by taylor swift song "the bolter", dominant reader (mostly), spencer being awkwardly sweet

𝐚/𝐧: i should be doing my history assigment now instead of writing another freaky long fic but here i am

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 10k

Fuck, you thought the moment you realized you’d woken up in someone’s arms.

Double fuck, you added as it dawned on you that this wasn’t some random guy you met at a club, the kind who’d bought you a drink, whose name you hadn’t even tried to remember, and whose life you could easily disappear from without a second thought. Instead, you were lying in the bed of a coworker—a teammate you saw almost every single day.

Triple fuck.

Maybe even quadruple, because of how much you liked it. That is, lying next to his bare skin. In a position where one of his arms was wrapped around your body, his face buried in your hair, in the curve of your neck. His breathing steady, occasionally tickling you. Pleasant. It was pleasant.

You were up to five fucks already, and you hadn’t even left the bed yet.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to do it. By the time Spencer Reid opened his gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes, you’d already be gone. Long gone, behind the wheel of your car, speeding at the maximum legal limit with the window cracked open, despite the icy gusts of winter air rushing in.

You’d been perfecting this strategy for years. First, you’d lose yourself in strangers’ sheets with moans and gasps, only to slip away in the early morning, filled with a thrill even greater than what you’d felt just a few hours before. Why? A very good question. You wished you had the answer to it.

This situation shouldn’t have been an exception, though theoretically, it already was. After all, you’d never even considered doing this with people you knew so well. People you couldn’t just ghost without consequence. People you—leaning over to check the clock on the bedside table—were supposed to see again in less than an hour!

You rubbed your sleepy face with your hand, silently cursing yourself. If only you’d been drunk the night before. People dodge the consequences of far worse actions than having a sex with a coworker simply by blaming it on alcohol. But no—when all of this started, you’d been completely sober and fully aware. Incredibly turned on, it’s worth mentioning.

Before the memories of the previous night could start ambushing you, you scrambled out of the bed. First, of course, you had to untangle yourself from the mess of limbs—carefully, so as not to wake him. You gently moved his arm aside and adjusted the blanket over his hips. Where this sudden care and tenderness came from was yet another very interesting question.

Tiptoeing around the bedroom, you gathered your clothes. Your panties and bra you shamelessly clutched in one hand, intending to shove them into your jacket pocket later. Before heading for it, though, you paused for a brief moment in front of the bed, in front of the still-sleeping Reid.

The blanket, pushed low, revealed the upper half of his lean body—his prominent collarbones and the smooth, even tone of his delicious skin. His chest rose and fell steadily, his hand resting in the spot where you’d been lying just moments ago. As if you were still there.

What a shame it was only a one-time thing.

Some people, looking at his innocent appearance, had no idea how much he had to offer. Their loss, you thought, leaving the apartment on shaky legs, feeling soreness in most of the muscles in your body.  When you finally got inside the car and the wind began to cool your flushed face and cheeks, the guilt faded away. You didn’t feel as good as usual, your heart wasn’t racing, and the adrenaline wasn’t surging through your veins the way you craved. Strange. Did it have something to do with who your one-night lover was? You shook your head, trying not to dwell on it.

You’d had a really great time together that one night, but that was it. You were officially leaving it behind, forgetting it.

Just like you always did.

It wasn’t an exception, you told yourself, as you took a quick shower in your own apartment.

It wasn’t an exception, and the fact that you worked together didn’t change a thing.

It wasn’t an exception, you kept affirming, crossing the threshold of the office with still-damp hair and the buttons of your fitted black shirt unevenly fastened.

“Are we not greeting each other anymore?” someone’s question snapped you back to reality.

Lost in thought, you realized you’d passed your friend Elle’s desk without even nodding at her. She was sitting on the edge of it, arms crossed over her chest, her dark eyes seeming to pierce through your skull, sifting through your memories. She was sharp—sometimes, too sharp. With nothing more than a sly smile, she let you know she knew something was going on.

"Sorry. I'm still half asleep," you said, approaching her for a hug. You let out a chuckle. "Or maybe I'm completely asleep if I missed such a hot chick in my path."

Elle pushed you away by a finger’s length, her eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"You think you're gonna distract me with compliments? Better start talking—who's the guy?"

“What guy?” someone asked, surprisingly not you, but Derek, who stepped into the room with a massive cup of coffee, nearly dropping it as he tried to greet both of you. You loved the laid-back atmosphere of the early mornings at work, when you had a moment to chat about whatever. “Well, good morning, ladies. From the looks on your faces, I’m guessing you had a nice weekend?”

"From that huge cup of coffee, I’m guessing you did too, if you need that much caffeine. Partying on a Sunday night, you should be ashamed," you replied sarcastically, eyeing your coworker. 

His eyebrows shot up.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he whistled.

"She's just trying to change the subject," Elle informed him. "I was just interrogating our little bolter. 

You rolled your eyes at hearing that nickname again. They’d started using it a while ago, as soon as they found out how you handled things with guys. There was nothing judgmental about it—they just really liked to tease you.

It took Morgan a moment to piece together what was going on. When he did, laughter burst from his lips.

"Is that why your hair is still wet? You left in such a rush you didn’t even have time to dry it?"

"She was afraid the sound of the hair dryer would wake the guy up," Elle snorted. "And, heaven forbid, they’d actually have to talk to each other."

“Oh, screw you both,” you muttered, aiming to act your age—in this case, by flipping them off. Before you could, Derek caught your hand, stopping you from spinning on your heel and stomping back to your desk.

“You know,” he said, suddenly a touch more serious, as if the question genuinely intrigued him, “I can’t help but wonder why you actually do it. For me, personally, waking up next to a lovely lady who made the night worthwhile is kind of the best part...”

"Are you asking about the psychological aspects behind it?" You raised an eyebrow. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Elle tilt her head slightly, clearly intrigued. "I don’t know. Something from childhood, probably. Everything stems from there, doesn’t it? Or maybe the reason is something else," you lowered your voice to a near conspiratorial whisper, leaning in closer to their faces as if about to reveal some great secret. "I simply enjoy it. As they say, you don’t pry into people’s bedrooms or wallets."

"That rule doesn’t apply to our friendship, sweetheart."

You chuckled at the remark; sometimes, you really did share a lot with each other. In any case, your response had nothing to do with modesty or shame on those topics. You chose to answer evasively because you didn’t feel like describing how addictive that feeling of escape was, how much control it seemed to give you. How your heart would race in those moments, and how all your fucking lives seemed to flash before your eyes then. 

It was sick, many people have already told you that. Still, you couldn't stop.

"Good morning, everyone." Suddenly, JJ burst in, clutching a briefcase the size of an encyclopedia under her arm. "Hotch wants to see us all in five minutes, we have a new case. You'll find out everything in a moment, but I’ll say right away that it looks like a little trip is in store. Bring warm jackets."

"Mercy, not another case from Alaska..." Morgan started, rolling his eyes.

"Not this time. By the way, has Reid already arrived?"

Elle glanced around and shrugged.

"I don’t see him. Besides, if he were here, he’d already be telling us everything about the weather conditions in Alaska."

"Strange," Derek muttered under his breath. "I can’t remember the last time he was late."

You fixed your gaze on your shoes, as if there was something fascinating about them.

"It’s not like him," JJ agreed, a little worried. "Maybe I should call him..."

"He’s definitely stuck in traffic," you interjected quickly, forcing yourself to sound casual, though you tensed up involuntarily. The thought of confronting Spencer slightly scared you, though you wouldn't admit it to yourself. "I’m almost 100% sure. Anyway, shouldn’t we be heading out?"

You changed the subject, nodding toward the exit with your chin. And then, by accident, you made eye contact with Elle.

Elle, who knew you better than anyone.

Elle, who always, always knew when you were lying or hiding something. And whose eyes widened when she realized.

Feeling the blood rush to your ears, you subtly shook your head, silently pleading for her not to speak. But she, to your horror, opened her mouth.

"You two, go ahead," she directed at Morgan and JJ. Then she fixed her intense, demanding gaze directly on you. "We’ll join you in a minute. I need to have a word with our girl, privately."

Barely were you alone when she exclaimed:

"Did you sleep with Reid?!"

"Goddammit, Elle, could you say it any louder?" you hissed, glancing toward the door where your colleagues had just disappeared moments ago.

"Why not? So, you had sex with Dr. Spencer Reid...!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE..."

"...our genius boy and a member of the same team?!"

"I’m fucking sure even Strauss heard that in her office," you sighed. "But yes, I did it, I regret it, and most importantly, this has to stay between us. Not a word to Derek, JJ, or Penelope, understood?"

To your surprise, Elle burst into laughter and raised her hands in a defensive gesture.

"You know I wouldn’t tell anyone without your permission. I was just playing around Anyway..." she sighed. "I find it hard to believe. You two? Honestly, there’s always been something between you…”

"No," you interrupted her sharply. The words left a ringing in your head. "There was nothing between us."

"So, you decided to sleep together just like that, out of boredom?"

"We need to go, Elle. The rest is probably waiting for us."

You moved forward, your friend trailing right behind you, like that little voice in the back of your mind urging you to order pizza at midnight.

"Oh, one more thing. You said you regret it. So, what, our genius didn’t meet your expectations..."

"End of discussion..."

"Last thing, you told me not to mention it to Garcia, Morgan, or JJ. What about Hotch? Can I tell him?"

You couldn’t keep up the seriousness any longer and burst into laughter, joined by Elle.

"Tell me what?" a voice called from behind you.

Fuck multiplied by twelve thousand seventy-nine.

Somehow, your boss appeared in the same hallway, probably heading to the same room where you were going to be briefed on your next case. You noticed how all the amusement disappeared from Elle’s face. You both exchanged a look, like teenagers caught smoking a cigarette by their parents.

You both turned, silently negotiating through eye contact—arguing, really, over who should speak up and save the situation. It fell to you.

"Um... we were wondering... if we should tell you... that we absolutely love your tie. It's so... red and... long..." It was only then that you noticed it was a gray tie. "Not that one. Another one. Absolutely stunning. And I’m actually looking for a birthday gift for a friend. He’s... a huge fan of... ties."

You tried not to look at Elle, fearing she might burst into laughter. She already seemed like she was suffocating inside. Improvisation was never your strong suit; you always had to say too much.

"So, I hope you don’t mind me asking where you bought it. That’s exactly the kind of tie I’m looking for. Red..." You bit your tongue before you could say long again. "Good quality. One that you’d just want to untie..."

Hotch’s completely stoic expression didn’t help.

"Oh." Suddenly, you realized you hadn’t even greeted him. "Good morning, boss. Are you having a good day?"

"Average," he replied, completely ignoring your whole tie spiel.

Silence fell. Elle stared at the floor, and the corners of her mouth twitched dangerously.

"Let’s get to work," Hotch suggested, clearing his throat. He extended his hand, gesturing for you to go ahead. As soon as you turned, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. "I got it from Hailey," he spoke to you in a quieter tone, opening the door to the room where the rest of the team was already gathered. "But if you really care, I can ask her where she bought it."

Sometimes you had a hard time figuring out if the guy was serious or just messing with you.

"I’d be greatly appreciative," you managed to say, quickly passing him and taking a seat at the long table.

You heard Elle whispering to Morgan something that started with "You won’t believe this…” and contained a combination of the words red, long, and untie.

Actually, saying that all the team members were inside wasn’t entirely true. One of them was missing.

"Reid’s late?" Penelope wondered, just as your gaze fell on his empty seat.

"Let’s start without him," Hotch decided. "This can’t wait. JJ?"

She handed out the case files to everyone and moved to the screen, where the most important details and photos related to the case were being displayed.  Before he could even say a word, a late Spencer burst into the room.

"Sorry, really, sorry..." he said frantically. "I know this never happens, but I overslept..."

He stopped mid-sentence as soon as his eyes met yours. It felt like he might as well have shouted, Hey, you know we had sex last night? and it would have been less suggestive. Or maybe it was just your inner paranoid voice talking.

"You could’ve informed us you’d be late," Hotch said.

Reid was still desperately trying to catch your eye, even though you were determinedly focusing on everything except him. It wasn’t until a moment later that he realized Hotch had said something to him, and he sighed in surprise, snapping back to reality.

"Oh... yeah, I should have. Definitely. Actually... I actually sent a message to y/n."

At that moment, all eyes turned to you. You furrowed your brow. There was no way he had written or called you — you would have heard it… which, of course, didn’t mean you would have replied. Your hand went to your pocket…

"I forgot my phone."

Only then did you look at Reid, your expression should have given him the message you intended. I left my phone at your place...

“I’ll look for it for you,” he offered. He immediately panicked, probably realizing that you'd rather keep your night together a secret. “I mean, I’ll help you look for it. If you want…”

“Reid, please, sit down,” Hotch stopped him from completely humiliating both of you. At that point, you had a burning desire to bang your head on the table. “And close the door.”

“Right…”

He followed the order and took a seat next to JJ, across from you, sending a small, uncertain smile. You didn’t react, your face remained unreadable, even irritated by how much he was giving away about what had happened between you.

Still, seeing his slightly wrinkled shirt, the same one he wore the previous evening when he opened the door for you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Those small imperfections in the fabric were, of course, from how hastily you had removed it and tossed it to the floor, where it had stayed all night…

The first time you had met outside of work, as two ordinary friends and not colleagues, was a few weeks ago. You had to drop by his place in the evening to pick up some documents you needed for the next day at work.

“Thank god,” you sighed as the door opened. “Elle isn’t picking up at all. I have no idea what she’s doing or where she is, and I seriously need this. If I don’t bring it, I can pretty much say goodbye to BAU.”

Only then did you lift your gaze to the man standing in front of you, too absorbed in your panic over the missing papers to actually take a good look at him. One hand rested on the doorframe, dressed in a sweater vest with the collar of a shirt peeking out beneath it.

“I’m glad I could help,” he replied. Thin-framed glasses rested on his nose, which he only wore occasionally for work. It was a shame because they suited him well. “But I’m sure Hotch wouldn’t throw you out just for being one day late.”

“I’ve been putting it off for three weeks.”

“That definitely changes things. Are you coming in? I need to... check if I have everything. “I’m really sorry, but you actually called just a moment ago and I didn’t manage to…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved a hand reassuringly. “I should’ve reached out earlier and not bothered you at this hour. But since you’re inviting me, I’m coming in. I’ve never been to your place before.”

“You’re not bothering me at all,” he assured you as you both walked further into the apartment. The lighting was dim, creating a cozy and relaxed atmosphere.

You stopped in the living room when a familiar sound reached your ears—a melody you knew all too well. Without a second thought, you followed it to its source.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you huffed in surprise, coming to a halt in front of the glowing TV screen, its bright light cutting through the dim surroundings.

“What?” Spencer finally noticed you had wandered off and joined you a minute later. “Oh, sorry. I was watching it earlier and forgot to turn it off…”

“No!” You stopped him before he could reach for the remote. “Don’t you dare. History’s Mysteries is my favorite show.”

Spencer looked at you as though he expected you to burst into laughter any second and admit you were joking. But no, you genuinely, wholeheartedly loved that program. Especially the episodes about extraterrestrial life—deep down, you’d always been a bit of a nerd.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be annoyed.

“What?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “You think just because I’m hot, I can’t have any intellectual interests?”

He widened his eyes, shaking his head.

"Don't put those words in my mouth. I’d never say—or even think—something like that."

"That I’m hot?"

"No! What? I mean… I wouldn’t assume you couldn’t have intellectual interests just because you’re…"

"Hot," you finished for him, letting out a laugh. "Relax, Reid, I’m just messing with you. By the way, you have a really nice apartment. Honestly, I kind of expected, I don’t know, a lab or something."

"Well, so far, you’ve only seen the living room," he replied.

"And I'd love to see the rest of it," you announced, rocking slightly on your heels. "But I haven't seen this episode yet, and I'm very curious about what it's about."

You noticed him hesitate, clearly unsure how to respond.

"Unless, of course, you don’t want me to stay. Maybe you're expecting someone. A girl or a guy?"

"No, no, I’m not expecting anyone," he replied quickly, swallowing nervously. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—barely noticeable, but it was there. "You’re absolutely not bothering me. Actually, it’ll be... it’ll be nice to have you stay. But, um... the documents. I should—I'll go get those ready for you. Would you like something to drink?"

 "...Four bodies were retrieved from a hole in the ice of a completely frozen lake. All the victims were young girls, aged thirteen to nineteen and each of them was involved in prostitution."

You were brought back to reality by JJ's words. You felt someone's gaze on you, surprisingly not from the direction you had expected. It was Gideon, and you were sure he had noticed the strange tension between you and Spencer. That was likely the reason behind his scrutiny. You had always thought he was a solid guy, but at times, he scared you. He looked at people as if he could see their original sin, not just theirs, but also that of five generations back in their family.

You shuddered, but for another reason. The subject... frozen lake, bodies pulled out... even though so many years had passed, and you could barely remember the event, the chill still crept down your spine, and your heart raced like you were running away.

"Wait a minute," Derek said, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "How thick could the ice be on that lake?"

"Given the current almost extreme temperatures, probably around 50 inches. That's thick enough for even cars to move safely on it," Reid explained without hesitation.

You sighed, trying to hide a fleeting smile. You just... sounded like a fetishist, but you couldn't deny that it was a little exciting when he did that. He delivered long, flawless explanations, all while looking genuinely fascinated by the topic. It didn't matter what you were talking about.

Elle raised an eyebrow. You decided to ignore her.

 “Doesn’t it make you wonder how he managed to cut a hole in the lake, in such thick ice, without anyone noticing?” Morgan continued.

 “Actually, he didn’t have to do it personally,” Reid replied again. He took off his glasses and thoughtfully turned them in his hands. “Under different weather conditions, we might consider that, but these were most likely holes made for other purposes. Fishing, mostly, but also to test if the ice can support vehicles, for example. The unsub could have simply shown up, discarded the body, and that’s it.”

You all started the discussion on the topic without your input. You should have stayed focused, but you couldn't help but keep glancing back at his long fingers, holding the glasses...his touch so delicate and skilled…

The door opened once again, just like every Sunday, when the two of you caught up on the weekly episode of the show. After you stayed over at his place once to watch it together, it simply became a tradition. An unspoken one.

With each meeting, you talked less and less about work. It was still kept in a purely friendly atmosphere—otherwise, you wouldn't have shown up. You weren't looking for a committed relationship, but lately, the usual physicality wasn't enough, and you needed a new conversation partner on a deeper level. The range of your topics was vast, from casual chatter to deep analyses of the content you watched (you could talk for hours about conspiracy theories), or serious yet comforting conversations about life and the world.

"Where's my pillow?" you asked, pointing to the spot on the left side of the couch where you always sat.

"I spilled coffee on it, by accident. It's in the laundry. Sorry."

"Did you really just apologize for taking your pillow from your own apartment?"

"Sorry, It’s just my thing”

You both burst out laughing, sitting side by side on the couch.

"I miss something to rest my head on," you complained after just a minute. "I’ve got neck pain from sleeping on the jet."

"So, you should definitely sleep on a flat surface," he teased. "See, I took the pillow out of concern for you."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Spencer Reid before you. The man who will always find a scientific reason to make your life harder. Maybe I should just sleep on a bed of nails instead of a mattress, huh?"

“I just suggested a slightly flatter surface! Where did the nails come from?”

“That’s the same to me. I need softness.”

Spencer shook his head.

“I can bring you a pillow from my bedroom.”

“The episode is starting.”

“I’ll be back in a second…”

“Oh, and then you’ll complain you can’t talk about the plot because you missed the first minute, and so much probably happened,” you stopped him from getting up, grabbing his wrist. “Sit. I’ll survive the neck pain. Or… or I’ll just lie down here.”

Saying this, you simply rested your head on his lap, settling comfortably on your side.

 “What did the autopsy reveal?” Elle asked. “Did the victims die from drowning, or were their bodies just dumped in the water with a different cause of death?”

You should have focused on the case at hand, but you couldn’t shake the discomfort this topic caused you. No wonder your thoughts kept straying to more pleasant places as you tried to distance yourself from it. Still, you read through the case files, knowing you had to stay focused to solve this. Lives depended on it.

“They were all alive when they were thrown into the water,” JJ said with tightly pressed lips. “And each of them suffered a heavy blow to the head.”

“That’s how he abducts them,” Derek summarized. “Knocks them unconscious with a strong hit. Maybe he pretends to be a client, and once they leave with him, he strikes.”

“The question is, why specifically the lake’s ice hole?” you mused, tapping your nails on the table in an anxious gesture. “Is it purely practical? Did he think it was the easiest place to dispose of the bodies?”

You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos of the drowning victims—it felt like self-inflicted torture. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid staring at you differently than before. Once, you’d told him a story about something that happened to you as a child, more like a casual anecdote than a heartfelt confession. Even so, you thought you saw some worry etched on his face.

For the first time since he walked through the door, you met his eyes directly, responding to his desperate attempts to catch your gaze. Surprised that you finally looked at him, he froze, his slightly parted lips emitting a short sound as if he wanted to say something but forgot what it was at the last second.

"No... I don't think so," he finally said, drawing out the syllables absentmindedly. The slight furrow in his brow suggested he was deep in thought. "Bathing in water symbolizes cleansing from sin in many religions, both physically and spiritually. For example, in Christianity, baptism washes away original sin. Prostitutes are often the targets of serial killers who believe they’re purging society in some way. Since we’ve ruled out a sexual motive, maybe this is where we should focus our attention."

"That’s a good lead," Hotch agreed, as the rest of the team considered the analysis in silence. "In that case, we’re likely dealing with a religious fanatic. Such perpetrators often believe they’re acting in the name of God or some higher good. Worse still, they see their actions as morally justified, which means they feel no remorse."

"And that, in turn, means they won’t stop killing until they’re caught," Gideon concluded.

"Then there will soon be another victim. We need to move now," your boss decided, quickly straightening his papers against the table before tucking them into his briefcase. "See you on the jet in fifteen minutes."

Throughout the meeting, you'd laid out the victims' photos in front of you, studying them closely. Preoccupied with gathering them up, you could hear everyone heading toward the door, convinced you'd been left alone in the room.

But when you looked up, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Reid. Your breath hitched for a moment. You knew this confrontation was inevitable, but you'd worked so hard to push the thought of it away…

"Hey," he greeted with a small smile on his lips. He seemed almost excited about the conversation. "I just wanted…to ask how you're doing."

You shrugged, forcing indifference.

"Fine, I guess."

You finished sliding the photos back into the case file, closed it, and pressed it to your chest.

"We should get going. Hotch gave us fifteen minutes, but the sooner we leave, the better..."

"You don't even want to talk to me?" he asked unexpectedly, shaking his head slightly in genuine disbelief. He swallowed hard and added, "About last night?"

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. You hated this—hated it with every fiber of your being. That awful moment when you had to tell someone you'd spent the night with that it didn’t mean anything to you, that you didn’t want to keep seeing them, let alone get involved. And it was so much worse this time. This wasn’t some random guy. This was Spencer—your friend, someone you genuinely cared about, whose friendship you couldn’t afford to lose, especially since you worked together.

Your body was conditioned to run, to escape. Waking up in someone else’s bed always signaled an immediate sprint to the finish line. But this time, it felt like you’d tripped over an untied shoelace barely a meter in.

"There’s nothing to talk about," you replied. The strange tension of being in the same room with him again, just the two of you in this small space—so much like last night—settled over you. "Actually, wait. There is. I think I left my phone at your place, though it might’ve fallen somewhere in the car. Could you look for it when we get back?"

He didn’t respond. You weren’t sure why, but you kept your gaze fixed anywhere but on him—his shirt, the space behind him, anything to avoid his eyes. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should look directly at him, let your words carry the weight they were supposed to.

Spencer suddenly let out a short, sharp laugh, filled with shock and maybe even… sarcasm?

"Did it really mean so little to you that you can't even look at me?"

You gave in and lifted your gaze. His head tilted slightly to the side, his brow furrowed. He looked somehow hurt even though hurt seemed too strong a word.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how you disappeared this morning. I thought maybe you were in a rush or didn’t want to wake me, but when I got there, you barely even looked at me. Sorry—actually, you looked at me only once”

"What did you expect, that I’d throw myself at you and kiss you?"

"No, I expected that we’d talk about it like normal people."

"But there’s nothing to talk about. It happened, and that’s it. I don’t see any reason we should have to debate about it..."

Spencer wasn’t angry, like others might have been. He was simply stunned.

"I don’t understand this," he finally confessed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. It was as if they suddenly became a bother, so he adjusted them again, then, after a moment of hesitation, took them off. "Do you regret what happened?"

“No,” you answered quickly, it was the first honest thought that came to your mind. You pinched the bridge of your nose, unable to find the right words. “Well… I don’t regret it in the way you might think. It’s just… I’m not sure what you expect from me now. We spent one night together, it was amazing, but I don’t have anything more to offer you.”

“I don’t want you to offer me anything,” he said, irritation beginning to creep into his voice, though it didn’t seem to be directed at you. “The only thing I want is… to understand where we stand now. Look, we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, I thought you liked me…”

“Because I do like you,” you interrupted him mid-sentence. "Let me be honest with you, Reid. I don’t do relationships. And just so you know, I don’t usually sleep with my friends either, but it happened, and I can’t undo it, nor would I want to. Because I enjoyed it, I like you, and I have a great time when I’m with you. And up until now, I’ve really enjoyed how things have been between us. I don’t want anything to change."

You summed up what had been weighing on your heart, hoping with all sincerity that he’d understand. Spencer leaned his hands on the back of an empty chair, turning his body slightly toward you.

"So," he said, letting out something between a chuckle and a pained sigh. "Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to bed with me."

"Listen, sex doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a physical act, it doesn’t affect our friendship in any way."

 "Do you really believe that?"

“Yes, I do,” you insisted stubbornly, refusing to let yourself even blink. Spencer turned his face toward you, looking for signs of a lie or uncertainty in your expression.

He wouldn’t have been able to find any, even if he tried with all his might. Because you were a brilliant actress. And it wasn’t that you hid your feelings so well. It was more that everything about you was so contradictory that it created a whole range of possible interpretations. And Spencer, with his deeply rooted need to hurt himself and test his own worth, chose to settle on the one that would guarantee him that.

“Well, good for you,” he finally replied, before leaving the room completely, not even turning back over his shoulder.

For a moment, you stood in silence, unable to identify what you were actually feeling. In truth, your earlier words had been honest. You cared about your friendship, the connection, the conversations, and the time spent together. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that he simply attracted you. Just yesterday, you had convinced yourself it was probably just curiosity. Sometimes people wonder what it would be like to try something with a friend, they do it, and then all those similar thoughts fade away.

But was it the same for you two?

Your head and shoulders had been resting on his lap for a while, your cheek comfortably pressed against his thigh, and the glow of the TV occasionally lit up your focused face when something brighter appeared on the screen.

Spender seemed tense about the position for just a minute, then, for the next five, he was simply surprised. Although you focused your attention on the program, you could feel his gaze falling on your figure from time to time, stopping on it for a moment. After ten minutes, you were both lying comfortably, with mutual ease, and after an unknown amount of time, one of his hands was resting on your side.

Every now and then, you spoke to each other, exchanging short, often sarcastic comments about the episode. During one of these interactions, something caught your attention.

"Where are your glasses?" you asked. You turned onto your back, resting the back of your head on his lap instead of your temple and cheek.

You could look up at him from that amusing, lower perspective, from which everyone looks particularly unflattering. You smiled at his expression when he tilted his head to look at you.

"Oh, I have them here," he replied, lifting the glasses he must have set on the couch.

"But why aren’t you wearing them?" You could swear that when you started watching, they were on his nose. You had noticed because you really liked how he looked in them.

He shrugged.

"You’re straining your eyes. Put them on," you asked.

Spencer moved his hand as if he wanted to reach for them, but at the last moment, he hesitated.

"I... I don’t exactly like how I look in them," he finally confessed.

After those words, you stared at the ceiling for a moment, then pushed yourself up on your elbow, almost aggressively. His eyebrows shot up at that.

"You must be joking."

"What?"

"I said, you must be joking. You look great in them. They really suit you," you assured him, sitting up. "You know, when I was a teenager, I always wanted to wear glasses. I even envied the girls with poor eyesight."

"You know, I’m fully aware you’re saying this just to get me to wear them?"

"True, you got me. Did it work?"

"Not really."

You bit your lower lip, thoughtfully considering a certain idea.

"Okay, give them to me for a moment," you asked, extending your hand. "I’ll tell you something that will convince you to wear them. From now on, you’ll even sleep in them. Well, maybe especially sleep in them."

He tilted his head, trying for a moment to read your intentions from your face, but he couldn’t. He sighed and handed you the glasses.

"Don’t..."

"Don’t grab them by the lenses, I know that," you finished, rolling your eyes. "I’m not some animal."

With his glasses in hand, you changed your position on the couch, kneeling so that you were more or less facing each other.

"I’m waiting for your arguments," he said, his voice sly, to which you raised an eyebrow.

"Well, this will be an argument combined with a little presentation," you clarified. "Have you ever heard of the glasses theory?"

"Is that an actual concept in human psychology, or something you just made up? If it’s the latter, I’m afraid I haven’t”

Listen, it’s very simple, but you’d better focus on me," you demanded, ignoring his previous remark.

"I’m focused."

Indeed, he was. His gaze was fixed on you with such intensity and engagement, as if you were about to deliver a speech that could change the fate of the universe. Or maybe it just seemed that way because you were so close to each other.

"Forgive me for the unacademic language, Doctor, but I don’t like to complicate things too much. This theory says that with glasses, you can only look one of two ways: smart or hot."

Spencer had already chuckled, ready to jump in with a sarcastic comment, but you pressed your finger to his lips, moving even closer.

"Don’t interrupt me for now, I’m not done yet. This theory also says that your look in glasses will always be the opposite of your usual, everyday look. So, if without them you look like the typical intellectual who knows the meaning of every word in the dictionary, then in them…" You paused, tilting your head to the side. Up until now, your finger had been resting on his lips, which it had landed on by chance, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing it along his chin and jawline. He didn’t take his eyes off you, which only made it harder to stop. "In them, you look really, really attractive. Like, you know, sexually attractive”

You felt his chest rise. You felt it because one of your hands was resting on it as you sat on his lap, though you had no idea how you had ended up there. Spencer had been entirely focused on your face until now-on your speaking lips, not on how your bodies were positioned in relation to each other. He exhaled, loudly, far too loudly for comfort, the breath he'd been holding in. The sound escaped as you settled your full weight on his lap instead of just hovering above it.

“Do you really mean that?”

Yes, you wanted to respond briefly, right into his ear.

“That’s the theory. And I… I agree with it. I even have another example. You won’t deny that I’m hot, right? It’s just something people think when they see me. A statement of fact. So… when I put on glasses…” Saying this, you slid his glasses onto your own nose. Your entire field of vision blurred slightly, making it hard to see his reaction. You could only feel how his body responded..“Well? How do I look?”

He didn’t answer. His breathing grew deeper, his pulse quicker. You knew this because your hand, which had been exploring every corner of his face, had already made its way to his neck and decided to stay there for a while.

“Spencer,” you prompted, “I asked how I look.”

He lowered his head, the top of it brushing against your sternum, lingering there for a moment. When he straightened again, his eyes were in constant flux, like those of someone torn by too many desires at once.

“Smart,” he replied, his voice barely audible, the word catching in his throat. “Now you look really smart.”

You shifted higher on his lap, drawn to him by the pull of his voice.

“Smart,” you repeated with a laugh, your tone edging toward a whisper, slipping between the two of you and filling the small space like liquid poured into a vessel. “That confirms the theo—…”

You broke off when his lips finally surged toward yours, impatient and pushed to the very edge of restraint. His jaw pressed against yours, forcing your entire body to tilt back. You swayed on his lap, both of his hands falling tou your hips, his fingertips pressing firlmy into your skin to hold your body at the same place, right next to him, close, closer. 

The kiss, born of desperation, quickly transformed into the release of a long-hidden hunger shared by you both. It was equal on every level, matched in intensity and force.

In the midst of it all, you lost your breath, repeatedly pulling your lips away from his to gasp for air, only to reconnect moments later. One of those brief pauses drew a wretched, urging whimper from him.

It was around then that you felt the pressure, growing stronger against your core.

An involuntary smile spread across your lips, breaking the kiss, during which you briefly took control, tilting his neck back for better access. Pulling away by barely an inch, you managed to notice that his barely open eyelids were still fixed on your lips, glistening with saliva and flushed with desire.

“Spencer? What is it? “

After asking that question you pressed yourself to his hips, pointing to the obvious hardness. His eyes widened, as if all the previous actions had taken place far beyond his body, to which he had only just returned. He inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping your body firmly and decisively as if trying to slide you off his lap. Something in the intensity of his touch and his attempt to take control only made you cling to him more.

“Didn’t expect you to be that hard after a kiss, but maybe it’s my fault” You muttered a joke under your breath, your lips briefly marking the space along his jawline, chin, and finally his lips. In the meantime, while one of your hands remained firmly on his neck, the other decisively reached its target. Then, griped it through the fabric of his pants. His lips parted, b loout no sound came out; it seemed to have been swallowed by his surprise. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

Your hand remained still, waiting for an answer. At first, he was silent, focused on his own breathing, not looking at your face, which you found quite unsettling.

"Spencer, I want you to answer me."

When he hesitated again, you gently brushed your lips against the lobe of his ear. But before you could repeat your request, he unexpectedly pulled both of you to the side, positioning you beneath him.

You gasped, surprised by the shift in dynamics.

“I want this” he whimpered into your ear, covering it with his mouth along with the space around it. “I really, really want this, please…”

But was it the same for you two? 

You repeated the question in your mind and recalled how, arched like a bow, you placed the glasses on his face, wanting to see him wear them as he made you come. 

You stood there in the empty room, replaying that moment in your head, well aware that you should join the rest of the team, but not so sure about the answer 

*

"Please don’t tell me that those fifteen minutes when you were alone..."

"Disgusting, Elle, you’re just disgusting."

Your friend, sitting across from you on the jet, smiled as if you’d just given her a compliment. The rest of the team either engaged in conversation with each other or reviewed the case files once more, looking for new clues. Reid belonged to the latter group, though his absent expression didn’t suggest he was deep in thought about the case. But you made an effort not to look at him, feeling a bit guilty for how things had unfolded.

"What exactly did you tell him?"

"That I don’t date and I’m not looking for anything serious."

"You just told him that?"

"What was I supposed to do, draw him a picture?"

"It’s not about that, it’s just..." Elle hesitated, unsure of what she wanted to say. She didn’t seem as cheerful as before. "I guess you didn’t say it that directly, right? Don’t get me wrong, but it’s kind of... cruel."

Her gaze briefly shifted toward the subject of your conversation, looking concerned.

"Would you have come to that conclusion if it were any other guy you didn’t know?"

She sighed.

"Probably not, and that’s why I think I’m having some sort of moral crisis."

You fell into a bit of an unpleasant mood for the rest of the flight. Unsure of what else to do, you decided to think a bit about the case and the murders. You even came to a conclusion and were about to stand up to discuss it when it hit you that you wanted your conversation partner to be...Reid. You sighed and stopped halfway, not knowing if he was ready to talk to you again.

Soon enough, you arrived in the small town where the murders had taken place. Naturally, you headed straight to the site where the bodies were discovered. Bundled up in thick down jackets, the crunch of deep snow underfoot accompanied your every step. You busied yourself talking to the local police, deliberately keeping your distance from the lake. The vast expanse of frozen water seemed to glare at you, challenging and mocking, as though daring you to come and play. Every glance at the ice awakened an inexplicable urge to sprint to its center, to feel the chills coursing through your body and surrender to a reckless exhilaration.

Rain drummed against the bridge like a barrage of tiny bullets, sharp and unrelenting, as if determined to pierce straight through you. You stood huddled beneath an umbrella with Reid, but both of you were already soaked to the bone, shivering from the relentless cold.

“Where the hell are they?” you asked through chattering teeth.

As part of your investigation, you and Reid had been sent to a nearby high school to interview the teachers of a missing teenager. The rest of the team had been assigned different tasks, and someone was supposed to pick you up at the agreed-upon spot and time so you could regroup and share your findings. But the wait was dragging on far longer than expected.

“I’d just like to remind you that you laughed at me when I took this umbrella, saying there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and it definitely wouldn’t rain,” Spencer remarked, switching the umbrella from his red, cold hand to the other one he had been keeping warm in his coat pocket.

You looked at him with envy. Your jacket didn’t even have pockets, and you started wondering why you’d even bought it in the first place.

“This is not the time to point fingers at me,” you retorted. “This is the time to make sure I don’t die of hypothermia. Come closer. And don’t stand so close to the railing.”

“We’re nearly two meters away from it,” he pointed out, but still followed your request and stepped forward. You took the opportunity to shove your hands into his coat pockets for even a momentary bit of warmth. His coat smelled like rain, and your nose accidentally brushed against it. Your hands touched his in one of the pockets.

“Jesus, it’s like touching an ice cube,” he muttered.

“You still have feeling in your hands?”

“Still do, but I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time,” he replied.

“They’ll freeze and have to be amputated. We’ll be the only two handless FBI agents. Hotch will never send us on an assignment together again,” you joked.

He chuckled softly and shifted the umbrella to his other hand once again. For a moment, you both stood in silence—him staring at the river flowing beneath the bridge, and you gazing toward the direction where you hoped your rescue would arrive.

“Can I ask you a question?” he broke the silence, looking down at you.

You were standing so close, your hands buried in his coat pockets, that you had to tilt your head back significantly to meet his gaze.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Are you afraid of water?”

You stared at his face, taken aback by the question. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead, and for some inexplicable reason, you felt a sudden urge to push it back.

“Why do you ask?”

He shrugged.

“It’s just something I noticed today—though, of course, there’s a possibility I’m wrong. But we’ve been standing on this bridge for twenty minutes, and you haven’t looked down once. And you keep telling me to step away from the railing.”

“I’m just looking out for your safety, klutz,” you teased, lowering your gaze. He wasn’t wrong about the water, and it surprised you that he had even picked up on it.

“When I was six, I almost drowned in frigid water,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Spencer’s brows furrowed with concern.

“At least, that’s what I’ve been told,” you added before he could say anything. “Apparently, my dad took me and my sisters to a lake to go ice skating. He used to go there as a kid with his siblings, and the ice was always thick enough that no one even considered it might break. But that was twenty years earlier. He didn’t account for climate change. The ice cracked right beneath me.”

“God,” he sighed. “You know… maybe it’s for the better that you don’t remember it. At least not exactly.”

 “Maybe. Apparently, I spent the next two weeks in the hospital with pneumonia, but I don’t have a single memory of that. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I shudder at the mere sound of water.”

 “Your body must remember what your mind suppressed. But wait, didn’t you have to pass a swimming test to get into the FBI?”

 “I did. But it was in a pool, where the water was calm and not trying to kill me. Hey, do you see that car? Isn’t that for us?”

After a few hours, you began to appreciate living in a state where winters were mild. Your hands were even colder than they had been that time on the bridge, despite wearing leather gloves. The hood over your head muffled the sounds around you so much that the first time Hotch called your name, you didn’t even hear him. You only approached him when you noticed him waving in your direction.

Something in his expression made you quicken your pace.

“We have the unsub’s identity,” he said before you could open your mouth to ask what had happened.

The rest of the team had already gathered. Reid’s cheeks were red from the cold, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He wasn’t looking at you, so you avoided looking at him.

“What?” you blurted, surprised. “How?”

“He abducted another victim, but this time he wasn’t as careful, and one of the cameras caught him. Using the footage, Penelope tracked down his information. She also found out that he came from a very poor family, and his sister turned to prostitution at the age of fourteen to support both of them.”

“I don’t understand. Then why does he kill young girls, just like his sister, who sacrificed herself for their survival?” Elle asked, suddenly appearing behind you.

Her question echoed in your mind.

“He thinks that by drowning them in freezing water, he cleanses them of the sin of prostitution—a sin he believes was unjustly forced upon them because of poverty,” you said suddenly, the chill biting into your body far more sharply than before.

“The unsub might even think he’s doing them a favor,” Reid added, animated, picking up your line of thought. “That he’s their savior, granting them a departure free of that sin.”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of admiration glinting in them. But then, as if reminded of everything, he quickly looked away. You felt like sighing. So this is how every single one of your interactions was going to look from now on?

“We need to catch him before he drowns another victim. We don’t have much time; it’s getting dark,” Hotch issued commands quickly. “Gideon, me, JJ, and Elle will head to one lake, Morgan, Y/N, and…”

“I should go with you,” Reid interrupted. “Elle can go with Morgan, and…”

“This is not up for discussion,” Hotch replied in a firm tone, a flicker of surprise crossing not just his face but everyone’s. When it came to time, his decisions were final. You all knew that. "Go," He commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Before you knew it, you were in the speeding car. The tension and sense of mission always left you silent, focused, and most of all, determined.

“He’s here. Do you see him? He’s dragging her toward the hole in the ice!”

Throughout all of it, not once did it cross your mind—the obvious fact that you’d have to set foot on the frozen lake. Before you even had a chance to react or fully realize it, Reid unexpectedly grabbed your sleeve, pulling you toward him. He seemed surprised by his own action, his eyes darting with adrenaline across your face.

“The ice won’t break, do you understand?” he said, not letting go of your arm. “It’s thick enough that cars can drive on it. “It’s safe, trust me. And if you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” 

His voice was surprisingly steady, offering a sense of comfort that you hadn’t expected. You listened, almost stunned, not just by the care in his advice, but also by the fact that he was even speaking to you at all.

You didn’t have time to respond or even nod; the car came to a stop, and every second counted. Somewhere deep inside, though, you felt a surge of gratitude for his gesture and words. Because as soon as you set foot on the ice, it was as though your senses vanished. All that mattered was the water—cold, sinister, and waiting for you deep beneath the blue surface.

Morgan and Reid moved ahead of you, with the latter turning his head over his shoulder. You saw it, even as the darkness quickly closed in around you.

“If you feel like you can’t do it, just stay behind,” echoed in your mind.

But you couldn’t just stand there and watch while the victim’s life was hanging by a thread. Focusing entirely on his words and voice, you moved forward, gripping your weapon tightly, yet with a steady hand.

And it was your shot, fired in a moment of desperate resolve, that brought the unsub down, giving Morgan the chance to catch the unconscious victim in his arms and rush her to the shore as quickly as possible.

You stood there, breathless, still holding the gun high, completely unaware of it until someone gently touched your hands, guiding them downward.

“It’s me,” Reid said quietly as you flinched. Only then did it start to sink in that you were standing on the ice. Your imagination began to feed you the feeling of the bone-chilling cold, the water pressing against your body with all its might. After all these years, still so vivid. You grabbed onto his arms tightly, your legs suddenly slipping beneath you. Why hadn’t they slipped before?

“Hey, careful. The ice is thick, remember? It won’t break,” he reassured you.

He held you tightly, offering you support as you both made your way to the shore, taking small, uncertain steps. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. Yet, a question loomed in your mind, one you were desperate to ask: why was he even still with you? Why hadn’t he just left you there, maybe for some internal satisfaction? 

Finally, you were on solid ground, no longer gripped by panic. Still, your breath was rapid, every cell in your body shaking in spasms, but not in that teasing, playful way it had when you played the role of the bolter. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked, still holding onto him like a lifeline. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Before answering, Reid studied you in silence for a moment.

“I could be furious with you, but I wouldn’t leave you there, alone and scared,” he said.

You opened your mouth, a warmth spreading across your chest, something that felt almost like a comforting embrace. But before you could say anything, the rest of the team reached you, with Elle hanging onto your shoulder, her voice full of concern as she asked how you were feeling.

In the darkness and the flood of emotions, his face blurred, along with the faces of the others. You closed your eyes for a moment, surrendering completely.

It was only then that you began to calm down, though it would take many hours before your hands stopped shaking.

*

You nervously paced around the office, two pairs of eyes watching you with clear amusement.

"Do you think he called me in because of that whole tie incident?" you asked, nervously biting one of your nails. "Shit, it’s definitely about that. It was so inappropriate, he’s probably going to fire me."

"Calm down," Derek said to you, the corner of his mouth constantly rising and falling. "First of all, if Hotch were going to fire you for every dumb thing that comes out of your mouth, you'd be gone after a week. Second of all, it probably has nothing to do with that. Knowing you, it’s probably some overdue paperwork..."

"You’re not helping," you said, raising a warning finger.

Elle’s laugh mixed with her yawn.

"God, I’m exhausted from this day. I’m out of here. Call me later and let me know what this was all about," she kissed your cheek as a farewell.

You briefly hugged her with one arm.

"Keep your fingers crossed," you asked them as they walked away.

Both of them raised their hands, making the gesture.

It was evening, and you had just returned to the office after closing the case. You had hoped to head home and sleep off all the emotions from the day, but then you found out that Hotch had called for you. And you had no idea why.

Before opening the door with his name on it, you crossed yourself in your mind.

"Listen, Hotch, about that tie, it was really just some messing around," you blurted out, before even fully stepping inside.

The man sitting at his desk raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t alone—across from him, in a chair, looking like a student called to the principal’s office for punishment, sat Spencer, looking just as confused as you felt.

"Did you want to see me now? Or did I mix up the time or the days...?"

"I wanted to see both of you," he replied, pointing to one of the two chairs next to Reid.

You exchanged a brief glance with your colleague. Since your last interaction on the frozen lake, neither of you had spoken a word, but the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as before. That didn’t, of course, mean that everything between you was back to normal.

"Listen, I’m just as exhausted as you, but I need to have this conversation with you now so we can resolve it as quickly as possible."

You shook your head in confusion.

"Resolve what?" Reid asked.

"Whatever happened between you two," Hotch started seriously, his gaze moving between your faces. "Any argument, I don’t care what it was about or how serious it is, it cannot affect your work or professional relationship in any way."

You couldn’t help it and let out a laugh. You imagined Elle’s expression on the other end of the phone when you’d tell her the real reason behind this summons…

 "Hotch, there was no argument," you assured him, maybe not entirely honestly, but in an attempt to wrap up this somewhat, let's be honest, embarrassing conversation as quickly as possible.

 Spencer nodded enthusiastically.

 "Absolutely none. Never."

 "I'm not blind or, as you’re both well aware, stupid," Hotch continued, his gaze shifting between you both. "I can see what's going on, and I’m telling you now—I don’t want any conflict in my team."

You let out a snort.

 "So what are you going to do?" you asked challengingly. "Force us to shake hands and make up? If we do that now, can we finally go home?"

 He met your gaze, his expression as stoic as ever, but you were certain—absolutely certain—that deep down, he was amused by it all. To your surprise, he suddenly stood up from his desk.

 "No, I'm going to do something more effective," he declared. "I'm leaving you two alone for ten minutes. No one leaves this office. When I come back, everything needs to be settled. Understood?"

"Isn’t this some sort of elementary school method of discipline?" Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw that beneath his amused expression, there was also a hint of concern.

"Exactly how it sounds," you agreed, briefly meeting his gaze before shifting it to your boss with a pleading look. "You're not our father, Hotch. We're adults, stop treating us like children..."

His hand landed on the doorknob without a moment’s hesitation.

 "Then stop acting like children and talk to each other," he said, glancing at his watch. "I’ll be back in ten minutes."

You could’ve sworn there was a subtle smile playing on his face as he left.

 You watched his figure disappear in disbelief.

 And then, you turned to Spencer, who was already staring at you.

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist ! this one is pretty long tbh, i cannot sleep, can only write

Bellamy Blake - Dropship

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ You stumble across a knocked-out person, and you drag his body to your cave not knowing what to do; if only you knew what this would lead to. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: smut, lots of plot, violence, nsfw, grounder reader

Finding unusual things in the first wasn't uncommon. In fact, it became a normal occurrence for me. I had loved studying the animals in the Trigeda, always finding them astounding, every one acting a different way, how they'd interact with each other.

It was different from how humans interacted, with the animals it was peaceful; the circle of life. And with humans it was tough, always using violence as the first means of answer, their reasoning always being 'Jus drein jus daun.'

Blood must have blood.

Lincoln had told me about the boat people, how my views and theirs didn't share many differences. But I knew I couldn't condemn my life to one stuck on the water, surrounded by miles and miles of sea and fish.

I loved the wholly green trees, and the spots of color by the flowers when a welcoming spring came; a sign of forgiveness from the harsh conditions of a rough winter just weeks before, when the animals would go into hiding.

When the Sky People initially landed it scared off the animals for miles around the drop ship, it took two weeks for them to return to their natural acts.

I knew Trikru weren't fond of the Sky People, they were like all the other clans- instantly resorting to violence and wars. They fit right in here on Earth.

So when I found a boy who bore the symbols of Skaikru in the middle of the forest unconscious, I had to do something.

I knew what they'd do to him if they found him here, and I'd never forgive myself if I let that happen knowing I could've done something.

I had tried picking him up but he was fairly heavy, and I was fairly weak. I felt bad dragging him, not knowing what lay between the grass but it was the only option I had.

Luckily for him, my cave was nearby.

I dragged him all the way inside my cave before assessing what had happened.

I felt very awkward feeling him up and down, feeling as though I was invading his personal space; which I was. But it was for the greater good.

I think.

Once I was sure he didn't have any wounds I felt his face, his freckles, and dirt hid underneath my palms as I cupped his cheeks. His temperature was high but he was breathing fine, possibly dehydration? Starvation? Either way, I couldn't do anything until he woke up.

I removed his jacket and placed it under his head as a sort of pillow while also trying to take his body temperature down I rubbed a cloth with water across his dirty face.

Once the dirt was off his features were much more prominent, his freckles littered his face with underbags like he hadn't had a good night's rest in days. My guess was either blue or green eyes.

Deciding to let him sleep I backed away from the boy. I stepped towards my meat rack and grabbed two pieces of provisions, then placed the meat on the metal rack above the smoke to get something ready for when he awoke.

It didn't take long for him to wake up, the smell of cooked meat filled the cave in a warm atmosphere.

The boy shot up, looking around cluelessly before his eyes landed on me. He instinctively grabbed for a knife, instead gripping onto nothing.

I probably should've dressed less like a grounder.

I knew little of English, only really hearing it when I went to Trikru villages or Polis.

He backed up into the cave wall, struggling to stand on his feet.

"Shhh," I spoke softly, placing my hands out in a calming manner, if I could calm animals I could calm humans right?

"Where am I?" His voice was loud and rough, it boomed off the walls of the cave.

"Cave," I simply state, grabbing my knife from my pocket as the boy's eyes widen. I knew he'd feel safer if he thought he was in control. I tossed the knife over to him, showing him I had no other weapons.

He quickly leaned in to grab it, now aiming it towards me.

"Why am I here?" His voice was less louder this time, but still fairly rough in octaves.

"Asleep in the forest,"

The dots seemed to connect in his mind as he lowered the knife, still weary about my every move.

My hand slowly went to my side, grabbing my canteen and sliding it across the floor to him.

"Drink," I demanded, giving my best trusting smile.

He kicked it back to me, untrusting the contents. If I wanted him dead I would've done it when he was asleep in the middle of the forest!

Even animals trust easier than this.

"You first," He said.

I rolled my eyes and took the canteen to my lips, taking a small sip to save the rest for him.

Sliding it once again to him he swiftly took it and drank the remaining contents in a very fast manner, like he's never tasted water that good before. His swift actions made a giggle erupt from me, making him look weirdly at me.

"Why?" He asked, placing the knife in its respective holster.

I looked at him confused, unsure of what he was referring to.

"Why save me?"

I thought about the words for a moment, unsure of how much trig he knew- or if he knew any at all.

"I am much kinder than Trikru," I said, walking towards the smoke rack. "Food, eat,"

He wasn't sure if he could trust me, even after I just saved his life, he thought I'd want some unrepayable favor back, or that I was just waiting for my leader to show up.

I sighed and walked to the wall of the cave, sitting down and leaning back on my arms. "Okay, starve," I said.

His face was one of inner debating, not taking long before getting up and taking his share of the meat.

"What's your name?" He asked, now sitting down in the same spot he was before, which was fairly close to me. Though he held the knife in his hands as he ate; I didn't mind.

"Many questions," I say with a smile, "y/n."

He never returned my smile, instead turning his expression into one of seriousness "I'm gonna have questions for the person who dragged me to this cave,"

I scoffed, "You have a knife, gonot,"

There was no use in helping someone who won't take it, it's like chasing a rabbit who doesn't wanna be chased.

The boy rolled his eyes, his head shaking as well, he knew enough to know I told him to leave. He used his knee to prop himself up, heading towards the cave entrance with one last look at me.

Brown eyes. He had deep, brown eyes.

It had been a few days since my last encounter with the brown-eyed boy. I hadn't thought about him much, only before I went to bed, when I woke up, when I was watching animals, and when I was talking to Lincoln. I'd like to think that wasn't much.

I couldn't shake the fact he hadn't even thanked me for saving his life, nobody had ever treated me with such coldness before. Especially after I help them. Maybe it was just a Skaikru thing, maybe they weren't used to common courtesy. He hadn't even told me his name.

The boy on the other hand had also been thinking of me, the grounder who saved him.

Though he didn't like that word.

Instead, he told everyone he camped out in a cave with a grounder that he held hostage. He couldn't believe the grounders were kind, not after the lives they took, the torture they put Skaikru through. But he couldn't help repeating my name in his head, repeating that day over and over.

A grounder saved him.

I wasn't sure why I was so drawn to the boy with the brown eyes, but I just knew I was.

Walking through the forest I was picking random flowers, feeling bad for them as I was ripping them from their bodies stuck to the ground, but it made great feed for the rabbits.

I was twirling the daisy between my fingers when a loud voice boomed off the barks of the trees, scaring the crows from their nests.

"Don't move!" I heard a voice yell from behind me.

My entire body froze in fear, I had never been put in a situation like this, never having made many enemies.

"Turn around, slowly!"

I did as told, moving as slowly as I could until I was face to face with a boy, this wasn't the boy from the cave, this one had bright blue eyes you could see from miles away and a messy middle part with a particularly big nose.

I felt like a deer that was spooked by hunters, everything in me was telling me to run, escape, and take my chances. But my legs wouldn't cooperate with my head. I couldn't take this guy on, I wasn't a fighter, I never learned.

He could sense the fear radiating off me, "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, grounder." He spoke with such spite as if I was a disease or plague.

I couldn't form any sentences, my heart was beating against the cage of my chest, and I prayed that anybody would come and save me.

I didn't wanna die.

I didn't wanna die before learning his name.

I was about to die and he was the first thing I was thinking of, unbelievable.

"Speak!" He shouted once again, stepping closer to me with his gun aiming towards my head.

"Murphy!" The familiar voice filled my ears.

Murphy, I'm assuming, looked back quickly before letting out an angry groan.

The brown-eyed boy appeared, and when he saw the scene he was angry.

He marched up to Murphy and grabbed ahold of his jacket, making him drop the gun.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He yelled into Murphy's face, still gripping his jacket as strong as ever, he practically lifted him up.

"Finishing the job man!" Murphy tried pushing the boy off but it was no use, fear seeped into Murphy's voice.

"Finishing the job?" He repeated though it wasn't a question.

"C'mon, Bellamy, she's just a stupid-," Murphy tried reasoning.

Bellamy.

"She's what!?" Bellamy yelled, slamming Murphy into a tree before grabbing him again, "She's what!?"

I couldn't lie to myself, seeing this side of Bellamy was attractive. Knowing he was already so protective over me, I couldn't let him kill Murphy.

"Bellamy!" I shouted.

Bellamy didn't look towards me, instead, he glared into Murphy's eyes before throwing him down and backing away towards the dropped gun.

Only then did he meet my gaze, examining me from feet away to make sure Murphy didn't harm me.

Murphy took a while to regain his composure, standing up and dusting himself off while looking between us.

"Let's go," Bellamy said, looking towards Murphy.

Bellamy stole another glance at me before leaving for their ship, leaving me standing there still processing everything.

That day came and went, and so did the next. I had begun missing Bellamy, I roamed the woods hoping I'd run into him but I never did.

I even debated on just running into their camp, but the big weaponry scared me off. All I could do was hope and pray he was okay, that Trikru hadn't gotten to him first.

I spoke with Lincoln the day after the incident, I told him about Bellamy, about Murphy. And he admitted he too saved a girl from Skaikru, she was Bellamy's sister, and she wasn't like the rest. Octavia was kind, and gentle with Lincoln, a calm contrast to the way most people had treated him.

I was happy for Lincoln, he found someone he was interested in, and it was nice to have someone relate to the same experiences I was going through.

Bellamy was worrying about me just as much as well. After the previous incident, he wasn't sure I could handle myself if another person were to threaten me. The thought alone had his blood boiling.

He wanted me there, in camp, where he knew I'd be safe. But after what happened with the grounders he didn't think the rest of the camp would like that idea.

He tried everything to go outside the walls, to even catch a glimpse of me but he knew the camp needed him there now. The wall wouldn't build itself. He'd always find his mind coming back to me, carefree picking flowers and talking to the animals.

Most would find it crazy but he found it mesmerizing. In such a dark world there was such beauty, and I knew how to find it in even the darkest of times.

I was in my cave when I heard someone call me.

"y/n."

It was Lincoln.

I smiled when I saw him, Lincoln was one of my best friends, well, my only best friend.

"Yea?" I ask, walking up to him, his expression is a mix of anger and worry.

"They're going to attack tonight, the bridge,"

Lincoln didn't need to explain further for me to know what he was talking about.

Trikru was going to march on Skaikru.

I needed to warn them.

I swiftly ran past Lincoln, but he quickly grabbed my arm.

"Lincoln! I need to-"

"Be safe."

I gave him a nod before rushing off to the drop ship, my mind only worrying about Bellamy and his people. With every step, the sky got darker, and my legs began to get sore but I had to push through.

And then I saw it.

The big wooden fence made of scraps.

"Grounder!" I heard one of the men atop the wall yell. "Don't move!"

Bellamy was the first to open the doors, his face turned to one of surprise, but I didn't have time for reunions.

"Don't shoot! She is safe!" Bellamy yelled.

I ran to him, "Bellamy," I looked into his eyes, "They're attacking soon, from the bridge," His expression dropped to a more serious look.

"We know," He said, "Ravens working on a bomb right now,"

My face must've contorted enough for him to notice.

"For the bridge," He finished with a smile.

A breath of relief passed through my lips.

"Come in, I'll catch you up."

It took him an hour to explain everything, from Murphy going missing to him returning with a temporary sickness infecting everyone but the immune. It was something Trikru did to thin out the battlefield, my heart felt for all the souls who couldn't make it past the sickness.

"Bellamy!" I heard a girl from outside his tent call, he gave me a look before exiting the tent and I curiously followed, receiving stares from everyone around us.

"Raven? What's up?" He asked Raven, she had a tan complexion with a high ponytail.

"We did it, now we just need to make it there and shoot it."

Bellamy nodded, "I'll do it,"

I immediately looked towards him, "No!"

"I have to, it's for my people," He said, now looking down towards me.

I couldn't stand the thought of possibly losing him, what if something went wrong and he never came back?

"There isn't any other way?" I pleaded, worry evident in my face and tone.

"Our other shooters are too sick and I'm the last good shot," His hands went to my arms in a comforting matter, "I'll be back before you even know it."

His words did little to calm my worries, but I knew he was set on his decision. All I could do was nod in reply.

Raven handed him a sniper and mixture, "Pour the gunpowder around the jelly, then run far away."

With every word she spoke, I could feel the fear and sadness crawl up my spine.

Bellamy was ready to leave but before he did he looked at me before approaching another boy "If anything happens to her, they answer to me, got it?"

The boy nodded his head in reply.

I watched as he left the gates and as they slowly closed behind him, the anxiety growing within everyone in the camp. If Bellamy failed, it was over for everyone else as well.

For the next few hours, I stayed in Bellamy's tent, lying in his bed and curled up under his blanket which still smelled like him. I was beyond worried for him, I hadn't known him long but I deeply cared for him.

"Don't think I just forgot." I heard a voice say, now entering the tent. It was Murphy.

The same scared feeling returned throughout my body.

"What do you want?" I ask, sitting up off the bed, trying to seem as tough as possible knowing deep down I was terrified of the man standing in front of me.

"You made me look weak!" He shouted at me, his grip on the knife becoming stronger as his knuckles clouded over with a white shade.

"I don't know what you mean," I tried defending myself, Murphy stepped closer and brought the knife to my throat. The cold metal sent shivers and goosebumps down my body.

I wanted so desperately to defend myself, to take action, but I just couldn't.

"Shouldve done it when I had the chance,"

"Done what," Bellamy said before entering.

I almost started crying at the sight of Bellamy, his curly hair now matted in the dirt, but he never looked more handsome.

Murphy instantly dropped the knife and turned around, the moment he did Bellamy's fist locked with Murphy's face, making him scramble on the ground. Bellamy grabbed Murphy by the collar of his jacket and dragged him to the gate, not even letting him get up.

What scared me most is the fact Bellamy hadn't said a word since he found us.

The gates opened and he threw Murphy to the ground, giving him a nice kick to go with it.

Once Murphy was out of the way the gates closed, everyone watching in worry and fear as whispers erupted from the crowd.

Nobody had ever protected me like Bellamy had, I felt more safe with him than I've ever felt before.

Bellamy wasted no time in returning to the tent, seeing me wait there for him.

I ran into his arms and cupped his cheeks, locking our lips together finally.

His hands snaked down to my lower back, pulling me closer into his embrace as he led me to the bed laying me down gently.

I pulled away to catch my breath and he took this time to shrug his jacket off.

"I missed you," I said breathily, smiling up at him while he took his shirt off, revealing his toned chest which I swiftly ran my hands over, feeling every crevice, wanting to engrave the feeling into the pads of my fingers.

"I missed you too, princess," He returned my smile slyly, sneaking his hands under my top and sliding it off with ease, revealing my bare chest as he looked in complete awe.

Being under his gaze made my face flush with a deep red, suddenly feeling vulnerable, it didn't take him long to get his hands working up and down my body, feeling over my breasts and sides before slipping my pants down slowly revealing my soaked cunt, I bit my lip at the coldness meeting my warm pussy.

Bellamy let out a groan, feeling his bulge harden against his tight jeans. Tossing my jeans to the side he slid his fingers in between my slit, coating his fingers in the juices and trailing them up my thighs.

"This fine, princess?" He asked, staring into my eyes with his beautiful brown eyes.

I nodded my head quickly, needing this more than anything at the moment.

I heard his belt unbuckle and his zipper become undone. His hands grabbed my thighs and spread them open before lining himself up with my hole.

Bellamy let out a soft groan after only pressing his tip into me, he slowly pushed deeper into me causing sweet moans and pants to fill the tent.

It was the sweetest sound Bellamy had ever heard, he needed to hear more.

Once Bellamy was fully inside me he began slowly grinding his hips into me, not wanting to fully pull out. The feeling was ecstatic, unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

My hands reached for anything to grab onto, landing on his arms I grabbed onto them as the pain flooded my body from the abuse my sweet spot was going through.

"Doing so good," Bellamy groaned out, grabbing ahold of my hips while my legs wrapped around his waist. He gazed at the facial expressions I was making, the faster he pounded the better they got to him.

Bellamy wanted to be rough with me, to thrust into me until I couldn't take it anymore, but he knew he needed to be gentle with me. At least for now.

His grip on my hips forced me to stay still, unable to properly arch my back making him hit the deepest spots in me. I knew I couldn't last, I knew my climax was reaching me this soon.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck... Bell!" I moaned out loudly, my climax washing over my body as I shook in Bellamy's grip.

The tightening of my pussy drove Bellamy crazy, he couldn't be gentle, not like this, not when I was below him being so irresistible.

His slow thrusts soon turned rough and fast, each thrust ending with wet and lewd sounds.

Tears began streaming down my cheeks at the overstimulation, my hands going to his chest trying to push him away but my attempts were futile.

"Just keep looking pretty under me," Bellamy said, his eyes not looking away from my face, only taking quick glances toward my breasts.

His praises were addicting, making my legs start to shake erratically.

His face was coated in a thin layer of sweat, causing his skin to shine as the light from the small lantern lit the side of his face, I wanted to remember this moment forever, him above me making me feel so insanely good; better than anyone could ever make me feel.

Bellamy's hand trailed up my body and to my neck, he squeezed lightly giving him a better angle to fuck into me.

The pressure on my neck was enough to make me cum again, my body shook uncontrollably as another orgasm washed over me, painting Bellamy's cock in a thick white layer, making it easier to slip in and out of me.

Bellamy was close to his own climax, chasing the high.

"All mine, all mine," He breathed out, leaning down and kissing my neck while giving light squeezes to my neck.

His groans became louder in my ear, and it wasn't long before I felt him pull out and finish all over my stomach.

He leaned into my shoulder and caught up with his breath, smiling into my neck and breathing me in.

"You did so good," His voice was rough, a slight contrast from before.

He stood up slowly and grabbed a nearby cloth to clean me up, discarding it after.

"You're okay?" Bellamy asked sweetly, while I crawled into a more comfortable position on his bed.

"Mhm, lay with me," I said meekly.

Bellamy smiled at the sight of me curled up in his bed, he crawled in beside me and pulled me closer to him.

"Stay here with me," He whispered, stroking my hair lovingly.

"What if Murphy comes back?"

He thought for a moment, "For you? I'd banish him a thousand times over,"

I smiled up at him, placing a small kiss on his lips.

"I'll stay then,"

With Bellamy's fingers stroking my hair, the heat coming from our bodies, and the safety I felt beside him, I drifted off to sleep.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[saphiccarma]

- Post Bellum - Alcohol is love

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - One teasing remark from Rio and a barking dog and then you're spiraling, but they're both there to cheer you up until it all goes sideways and you panic again.

Warnings: ✨Trauma✨, smut, fingering (r receiving), cunnilingus (r and A receiving), face sitting (A on r), more trauma

A/N: secretly in love with this chapter

The liquor burned your throat harshly as you tipped the shot down your throat, eyes heavy and mind swirling with memories. The glass slammed down on the counter with a clink, and you poured yourself another. And as you took more shots, eventually just sipping straight out of the bottle, the shadows in the corner of your apartment looked less menacing and your emotions weren't so prominent anymore. It felt nice to feel the familiar sting and the haze that fogged up your mind.

As soon as you had finished your job with Agatha and Rio, you had run to your apartment. Some nights, and you were never sure what determined them, the two would have you stay the night at their house. Sometimes it led to something that was not at all professional, far from it really, and you knew it went against your job description. But Agatha's sly words and taunting smirk, plus Rio's casual, teasing remarks lured you in. It was purely a hookup, nothing special at all. They fucked you and in turn you fucked them, plain and simple sex. Even still you would slip out of bed after they had both fallen asleep and sneak to the guest bedroom, footsteps soft.

Then Rio said something today, just something simple and meant to be harmful at all, but you couldn't stop the rush of memories.

"It's just a dog," she teased when the three of you passed a barking dog in the street. You had hardly heard her words, but it had made your panic all the more intense. It was a German shepherd, teeth bared and growling at everyone who passed, tugging on its leash. Saliva dripped from its mouth and all you could see was violent dogs during your tour. Regardless of Rio’s remark, you sped up, ushering them along with you.

The thoughts had tugged at the back of your brain for the rest of the day. You tried to stay focused, stay remained on the job, but your eyes were clouded over, and you could just barely think. When Agatha had given you an odd look, her silent way of asking if you were okay, you ignored her. When Rio had trailed her fingers up your arm, but you had tugged away, mumbled some excuse, and you were out the door and home by 9:00.

You weren't an alcoholic, drinking wasn't your go to for coping, but it was something you held in your back pocket. You loved the way whiskey, or beer, or vodka, or whatever you had would clear away any worries you had, even if it was only for a moment and then you would have a nasty headache in the morning. It only lasted for a little while, but that was enough for you to use it as a resource. You could hear a shout from outside, the voice oddly familiar. Your drunken brain hardly comprehended it.

Pressing the rim to your lips, you tipped the bottle back again, eyes falling shut. You didn't want to stop; you wanted to drown in the drink. A knock snapped you from chugging the rest of the bottle. Clumsily, you placed it down onto the counter and stumbled towards the door. Common sense flew out the window. You fumbled with the door handle before swinging it open, a wide grin spreading over your lips at who was there.

Agatha and Rio stood side by side, still dressed in the same clothes they wore to the office, but Agatha had a jacket slung over her arm and a wallet in her hand.

"Hey," you slurred, "Watcha doin' here?"

Agatha frowned at your garbled words and the way you leaned heavily on the doorway, "Are you drunk, hun?"

"Maybe a little," you giggled. You stumbled away from the doorway, meaning to invite them in, but forgetting as you ambled back towards the counter. Your fingers curled around the neck of the bottle, but before you could take another sip it was yanked away. Whining, you stomped your foot like a child, "Give it backkkk." You drew the last word out, petulance and annoyance coating your words.

Passing the bottle to Rio, who was smirking slightly but with a shimmer of concern in her eyes, Agatha took hold of your outstretched hands. You instinctively flinched at the touch. Her fingers held firm, pulling you in close. She could smell the alcohol on your breath and see it in your eyes and all your movements.

"You're drunk," she said bluntly.

You whined, "Sooo? I'm an adult."

"You're really drunk," Rio chimed in, "Way more than you should be."

Once again, you giggled at her words and shrugged. So, what if you were drunk? Agatha kept your hands in her own, even as you tried to pull away, and dragged you towards the bedroom. Rio shoved your liquor in a cabinet before filling a glass of water up, the water clashing against the metal sink too loudly for a moment that had you whining. It sounded too much like the pouring rain, battering down on the rusted metal sheets you had for a roof.

"Aggie," you tugged at her hands, using a name that was reserved for bed only, "Let goooo."

She scoffed, ignoring the nickname, and didn't dignify you with a response. Instead, she sat you on the bed, relieved that you were already out of work clothes and into what resembled pjs. Getting you into different clothes a battle she did not want to fight. The minute she let go of you, hoping you would stay seated, you tried to bolt up. Agatha stuck her hand out, catching you in the chest before shoving you back to the bed with a firm glare.

"Stay," she ordered. You kicked your feet, grumbling, and falling into her chest. Your face fell onto her breasts, and you cackled a little, but Agatha took it in stride. Briefly you tried to palm her breasts, but Agatha stopped that quickly by batting your hand away. As much as she would enjoy that, you weren’t in the proper state of mind for anything like that right now. Her hands came up and stroked through your hair, gently combing out all the stray knots you missed when brushing your hair this morning. For once, you let yourself relax around her - the feeling of nails gently scratching your skull and back of your neck lulling your brain into a sense of peace.

Rio entered the room moments later, a cup in hand with a plastic straw she found after some searching, and Agatha gave her a soft smile. Tapping your shoulder and gently guiding your head up, Rio pressed the straw to your lips. It took you a minute to process, but once you did you started drinking some water. It wasn't long before you had downed the whole cup with a satisfied sigh. The water cooled the harsh burn in your throat just like Agatha's hands helped to soothe your nerves that were constantly on edge.

After you finished the glass, it was placed onto your bedside table and Agatha was forcing you to lay down. You squirmed for a moment, not wanting to rest, but then Agatha laid down next to you and wrapped her arms around you. Her embrace was warm, comforting and you melted nearly instantly. An arm was draped over your waist as Rio flopped down on your other side, her face burrowing into your neck, and you tucked your face under Agatha's chin.

With their combined comfort, something you didn't know you wanted, you were able to slip into sleep easily.

^______________^

You woke up to a wetness between your legs and heat pooling in your stomach. Slowly, your eyes blinked open before your hands shot down the grab at the head between your legs. Rio groaned against your cunt, the vibrations waking you further sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Rio," you whined, tugging at her hair, pulling her close but also wanting to push her away. Your head pounded as a result of your actions last night but the throbbing in your core made you keep her close. Her lips were wrapped around your clit, sucking softly, and her hands kept your legs pried apart.

She pulled away for a moment, mouth glistening with your juices, "Shh, you don't want Agatha to hear, do you?"

Briefly, you glanced at Agatha was still sleeping soundly, the sunlight shining softly and highlighting her sharp cheekbones. Rio suddenly flicking her tongue out drew your attention back and you couldn't stop the small whimper that came from your lips. You were never particularly vocal during moments like these, too guarded to let them see you any more vulnerable, but Rio had caught you in a tired state and you weren't holding back.

Your clit pulsed in her mouth as she kept her lips wrapped firmly around it, even as you yanked on her hair when your head fell back and eyes shut from pure pleasure. You clenched around nothing, and your feet kicked out slightly.

"Tell me what you want, baby," Rio murmured against your sex, her breath warm.

Shaking your head you just fumbled around to grab her fingers, dragging them towards her core. You weren't the biggest fan of your words, much less telling people what you want. Rio chuckled and once again pleasure ripped through you from the vibrations that rattled through you. Pushing her away with one hand, you pressed her fingers to your dripping sex, silently begging with your eyes. Rio grinned at you, the sight devious and filled with pride.

"Words," Her voice wrapped around you a silk ribbon, softly coaxing you to tell her what you want. It took you a moment to find the right thing to say, even though it was so simple, your thoughts were so scrambled right now.

"Fingers," you whimpered, pushing her digits closer to your core, "Please."

That had her smile widening considerably, "Good girl." Her praise made satisfaction flow through you, but not nearly as much as when her fingers plunged into your core, two of them stretching you out nicely. A loud noise escaped you against your will and you slapped your hand over your mouth, glancing nervously at Agatha. The last thing you wanted to do was wake her up. Rio's two fingers thrust in and out of you at a brutal, yet steady, pace, not once relenting.

A few pumps in her thumb positioned itself to hit your clit every time her fingers were deep inside you, the pads of her thumb rubbing against your clit roughly. Your hand left your mouth to scramble and grab the bedsheets, fisting the white fabric in your fists to try and keep your composure. Rio was quickly making you fall apart with everything she did, all the movements unraveling you bit by bit. And the pressure inside you built rapidly as your walls fell down just as fast.

Absolutely enjoying in the way you were just dissolving beneath her, Rio crashed her lips onto yours, and you could taste yourself on her. Her tongue brushed against your bottom lip, asking for entrance, and you granted it, her tongue exploring your mouth. You grabbed at her shirt instead of the bedsheets, keeping her close as if she would leave you once you let go, and whined into her mouth. Her fingers continued their brutal pace on your cunt, thumb hitting your clit harsher nearly every time.

Your thighs began to tremble, and your stomach tightened. Clenching around her fingers, your sounds were muffled by her mouth. You could feel your climax building steadily within you and Rio could tell. She pulled back from your mouth for just a moment so that the two of you could breathe, your breaths coming in short, fast, gasps, before pressing her lips back onto yours. Then her fingers curled just right, hitting that spongy part inside your cunt, and her thumb rubbed circles around your clit, pressing down perfectly, and you were spasming beneath her, your orgasm ripping through you.

Rio swallowed up your moans greedily, her mouth devouring yours as she pushed you down into the bed further, her arms bracketing your face. You clawed at her back, grip tightening and knuckles turning white from how hard you held onto her shirt. This was possibly the best orgasm you'd ever had.

Slowly, you came down from your high, breathless and sweat making your hair stick to your face. Rio detached her lips from yours, a string of saliva still connecting them, with her fingers still buried deep in your cunt. You whimpered when she pulled them out.

Leaning down, she pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and then another to your nose, "Such a good girl."

Your face heated at the praise you and scowled at her to hide your embarrassment. Rio smirked cheekily before she was yanked off of you. You had hardly noticed that Agatha was awake, until she was hauling Rio into a brutal kiss. You watched, slack jawed, as Rio absolutely melted into Agatha - turning from dominant to submissive in a few simple moments. The kiss didn't last for long before Agatha was tugging Rio away by the collar of the neck.

"You are a naughty girl," she hissed in Rio's face, and the other woman squirmed beneath her glare, whining.

"Aggie," she pleaded, her hands coming up to fist Agatha's collar desperately, "Please." In just a simple kiss, Agatha had turned Rio into a fumbling, needy mess, just as she had done to you. And it seemed like Agatha was going to give into Rio's pleas, but she just smirked before shoving her firmly against the headrest.

"Stay," she commanded, and when her eyes caught Rio's hand inching to her own pants, she barked out another command, "And don't touch yourself." Rio pouted but crossed her arms and glared at Agatha. Agatha turned towards you, her smirk still firmly planted, but her eyes softened slightly, "Did Rio wake you up baby? Did you like that?"

You hesitated before nodding your head slowly, afraid to get in trouble like Rio.

"You're not in trouble," she cooed, but there was a certain edge to her words, "If you can prove to me that you're a good girl."

This time you nodded frantically, eager to please her in a way that was so uncharacteristically you. Agatha muttered soft praise that you hardly caught before she was slipping out of her pants, black lace panties coming with. You propped yourself up on your elbows, ready to adjust in any way she needed, but then the older woman pushed you back onto the bed. Her knees came to bracket your sides before she shimmied up and then her dripping core was right in front of your face. You could smell her arousal and feel the heat radiating from her cunt.

"Is this okay?" she asked softly, her hand brushing a stray hair out of your face, and you nodded she added, "Words."

"Yes," you said, breathless, "This is okay."

Agatha smiled at your eagerness before she lowered herself onto your face. Your hands came up to grip at her thighs, holding her in place because you never wanted her to move. Hesitantly, your tongue flicked out as you heard Rio moan beside you and Agatha do the same. You swiped your tongue through her folds, teasing her for a moment, before pressing it up against her entrance.

And then, the delicate bubble you were in burst. Agatha ground down on your face and you couldn't stop the panic that seized you. Your entire body locked up and it felt like too much. Agatha was pressing her cunt against your tongue, but it was too much, she was too close, and you couldn't breath and- You forced yourself to calm. You were fine, this was fine. Threading her hands through your hair, Agatha was too absorbed in pleasure to notice your panic, and you forced yourself swirled your tongue around her clit.

"Just like that," she groaned, completely oblivious to how taut you were. Every single one of your muscles had locked up and you had to resist the urge to shove her off. You owed her this. But Rio was watching, her eyes taking in every detail, and she noticed the way you went stiff, all joy leaving you.

She reached out, grabbing Agatha's shoulder, "Agatha stop."

The other woman snarled, ready to tear into Rio, but she paused when she saw how concerned she was. Gently, Agatha removed herself from above you and you whined, sitting up slightly.

"Why'd you stop? Did I do something?" Your thoughts spiraled, thinking you had done something wrong, but internally you were relieved. You could breathe now. Agatha was directly on top of you, she wasn't suffocating you.

(Sand wasn't being dumped on your head as your wrists were bound and you were about to be buried alive. Your sister in all but blood wasn't next to you, sobbing as she fought against her binds. The sun wasn't beating harshly down on you as you thought you were going to die.)

Rio gave you a pointed look, causing Agatha to do the same.

It was a moment before the former spoke up, "You weren't okay," Her words made your throat close up and for some reason tears threatened to prick at your eyes, "Why didn't you use your safe word or tap on her leg three times?"

And just like that all your walls slammed back up and you scoffed, "I was fine."

"No, you weren't," Rio argued, and you could see Agatha chewing her lip, glancing between the two of you. Guilt swirled her eyes, but so did frustration, and that was what you latched onto. You chose to believe she was frustrated at you and Rio, rather the truth. Agatha was upset she didn't notice that you didn't want to continue, that you were done.

"I said it was okay, I was fine," you snapped.

"Darling," Agatha reached out to cup your face, stopping when you flinched back, "Just because you say it's okay doesn't mean you have to keep going."

You rolled your eyes, scoffing once again before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. A throbbing pain hit you full force in your head the minute you stood and your legs were weak beneath you. Ignoring Agatha and Rio's protests, you made an excuse about having to use the restroom. You locked yourself into the bathroom, sinking to the floor.

Burying your head between your knees that were pulled tightly up to your chest, you groaned in annoyance. Why couldn't you just enjoy the moment? All you had to do was not stiffen, not lock up and it wouldn't have stopped. Then everyone would be happy.

Why couldn't you just be normal?

Taglist: @poppyshuman

[emeritusemeritus]

Beloved, Besotted, Betrothed. [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: Beloved, Besotted, Betrothed.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: {DH1} set during Bill and Fleur’s wedding. No mentions of War or Voldy.

Summary: Weddings always bring out the best in people, but you hadn’t expected it to bring out something else entirely within Fred.

Warnings: SMUT. P in v sex, oral sex both male and female receiving, Role-play, illusions to choking, Fred has a wife kink? Innocence kink. Strong cursing. Mentions that reader has curves and large breasts. Established relationship. Talk of marriage.

"Oh Molly you look beautiful," you say as you step into the kitchen, seeing your boyfriend's mum all dolled up ready for her eldest son's wedding. You had been upstairs getting ready with the bride and the rest of the bridesmaids, finishing your hair and makeup when you remembered that Fleur's fascinator was still in the box on the kitchen table.

The men had been tasked with setting up the marquee outside and had been essentially banished from the house as the women got ready, with strict warnings from Molly to not mess about, those warnings no doubt pointedly aimed at Fred and George.

"Oh thank you dear," she says blushing as she fusses with a piece of her hair, flustered by the compliment.

She was wearing a long green and turquoise patterned dress with flowing sleeves, a little satin waistband and a ruffled pattern on her right shoulder that resembled a flower. Her signature red hair had been curled with one section pinned back and decorated with a beautiful antique hair brooch and her makeup complimented her look perfectly.

"It's so nice to be all dressed up," she giggles as she waved her wand slightly, the plates of food on the counter becoming magically wrapped by a covering to keep the food fresh. You smile at her, nodding your head to agree as you spot the box from the table, choosing to spend a little time with Molly before retreating back upstairs.

"I wish it were you and Fred getting married today," she says with a sigh, looking out the window towards the Weasley men, and Harry, who are all trying to erect the tent. Your chest swells as you spot Fred looking so handsome in his suit, minus the blazer jacket, his golden waistcoat glimmering in the sun as he concentrates on the spot he's lifting with his wand.

"Molly," you playfully scold, knowing exactly what she meant by that. She gives you a little look where she pretends to be contrite for just a moment before scrunching her nose up and shrugging.

Fleur was not her first choice of daughter in law as she'd admitted to you more than once that she found her bossy and rude and had questioned the longevity of their relationship as she believed they were rushing into things, that the physical attraction between them was the most prominent reason why they were together.

Truthfully, you quite liked Fleur. She could be a little off handed with some of her comments, a little too quick to say what she thought rather than consider the effect of her words but you always thought it could be because of her having to mentally translate before speaking English. You couldn't deny that she had not made clever moves to try and impress Mr and Mrs Weasley and had inadvertently criticised their home, the family and Molly's favourite singer, Celestina Warbeck, all in the same sentence. If you hadn't been so protective of the Weasley family, you'd probably had actually found it impressive that she'd managed to offend nearly everyone in the household in less than two minutes.

You'd met during your sixth year at Hogwarts when the triwizard tournament had taken place and had become good friends with her and two of her Beauxton schoolmates Colette and Clemence, both of whom were also bridesmaids.

"I'm just saying," Molly says with a little knowing smirk. "I can't wait to have you as my daughter."

"Then you'll have to talk to your son," you quipped, casting one last look back outside to where the men were still trying to get the tent up straight, seeing even from afar that Fred's tongue had slipped out to rest in his bottom lip, something he did when he was concentrating hard.

"Believe me I will," she says with a smile, reaching out to pat your shoulder before walking over to the sink to busy herself.

You grab the box with Fleur's fascinator in and return back upstairs to finish getting the bride ready. Once Fleur was ready, you quickly changed into your bridesmaid's dress, each of you helping zip the others up before smoothing out your curled hair in front of the mirror.

The dress was a beautiful grey silk with a blue undertone that clung to every one of your curves, perfectly tailored to your body. Each dress was just slightly different but all had the same structure and little cape over the shoulders that was reminiscent of their Beauxbaton school uniform, a little ode to their magical roots.

"Fred will die when he sees you in that," Colette says as she appears behind you in the mirror, a smile tugging at her glossy lips as she looks at you. Her accent never failed to make you smile, hearing her try to pronounce 'Fred' in such a thick, French accent was always a little humorous to you.

"Oh hush," you say, casting one last glance at your body, smoothing out any lines in the silk.

You had to admit that you did feel incredibly sexy in the dress, though it was still modest in principle, it definitely showcased your features splendidly. Your breasts were considerably fuller than the other girls who all had slim figures and small breasts whereas you had a more hourglass figure that was openly showcased in the dress, something you knew Fred would enjoy greatly. You'd had to make adjustments to the cups of the dress multiple times in fittings as your breasts didn't fit in the same style as the others and so with a little ingenuity from the tailors, they'd adapted your dress to hold your chest a little better.

You checked the time and saw that there was still half an hour to go before the ceremony was due to begin and so you began to clear away the makeup and beauty stuff that littered the room.

Fleur's mother knocked on the door a little while later and you decided to leave them for a private moment, just Fleur, Gabrielle and their mother.

You passed Ginny as you walked down the stairs, seeing her eyebrows shoot up as she looked at you. Ginny had not been a bridesmaid, on account of her dislike for the bride. Bill hadn't been offended and truthfully neither had Fleur but you still felt a bit of guilt at being a bridesmaid at her own brothers wedding when she wasn't.

"Has Fred seen you yet?" She asks, walking in her dressing gown towards her room.

"No? Hello by the way," you replied, a little confused by her smirk but instead of replying she simply giggled and slipped through the door of her bedroom.

You hadn't expected to see anyone except Molly downstairs, knowing that the boys had been banished, but when you reached the kitchen it wasn't Molly that you saw leaning against the counter. Fred.

He was facing away from you, reading the paper from what you could see, his hip resting on the counter as he leaned down, looking devastatingly handsome, even from behind.

"What do you think?" You asked quietly, creeping into the kitchen. You didn't miss his little jump of surprise, which made you bite back a smile as he turned towards you, smirking already as it he was already planning a snarky reply.

The second he turned and saw you, his mouth opened on its own accord, jaw dropping, seeing him freeze as he openly gawked at you. You had to bite back a laugh at his reaction, seeing that it was even better than you'd hoped.

"I," he began to say before clearing his throat, his fingers doing an involuntary dance at his sides as his eyes take over you, before fixing his gaze to your breasts. "I think it's illegal to look hotter than the bride on her wedding day."

You laugh and watch as he seems to bounce back to usual, though his gaze linger a little longer on your curves before he reaches out to you. You place your hand in his and he pulls you gently towards him, delicately placing his arms around you as to not crease your dress.

"Ah, lipstick," you say, pulling away from him as he tries to kiss you, making him frown and pout at your denial of a kiss. "I promise you can mess it up after the ceremony." His eyes a little as he shoots a wicked smirk at you, his hands wandering over the soft fabric of your dress, running his hands over the curve of your waist.

"You look so beautiful," he says, smiling down at you. Even with your heels, he still towers over you with his height.

"And you look very handsome," you replied, reaching up to push his hair back from his face as you smile at each other.

"Well don't you look nice," George says, interrupting your moment, walking in with his bandage wrapped tightly around his head.

You turn and smile at him as Fred grumbles under his breath for his twin ruining the moment.

"How are you feeling Georgie?" You ask, looking at him with concern, even though it had been nearly five days since he received the unfortunate curse, you were still worried about his pain levels and him in general.

"Stable enough to walk down the aisle with you," he winks, earning another grumble from Fred. He'd been overwhelmingly annoyed at not being able to walk with you down the aisle even though he was also a groomsman but Molly had insisted on the fact, knowing it was both tradition and superstition that unmarried couples should never walk down the aisle together. Fred had instead been paired with Gabrielle, Fleur's younger sister, whilst you were paired with George, a rather unfair deal he had stated.

"I better get back," you said, your gaze flickering to the stairs, knowing that you needed to get Fleur ready for the ceremony.

"I love you," Fred says, a surprisingly sentimental tone to his voice that made you pause, his hand now holding yours as he looks at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"I love you more," you say teasingly, slowly pulling away from him as you climb the stairs once more to help the bride.

The ceremony was beautiful and the newlyweds looked utterly joyful and in love, with smiles all around. You could feel Fred's eyes on you at multiple times during the ceremony and each time without fail he would either wink at you or smile sarcastically sweetly, trying to break up the formality of the situation.

At the reception, you'd been carrying out your role as bridesmaid flawlessly, helping with gifts, chatting to guests and even helping Fleur go to the toilet in her elaborate, poofy dress. When you returned to the marquee, you could see Fred and Molly chatting in the corner and so you took a seat next to George at the table, resting your head on his shoulder as the early morning and demand of the day began catching up with you.

"Tired, maid of the bride?" George joked as he shifted down a little in his seat so that you would be able to rest your head on his shoulder without straining. You simply nodded in reply, closing your eyes for just a moment before opening them and looking around the room at everyone you loved, all of whom enjoying themselves.

"Mind if I steal my girl?" A familiar voice asks from behind you and you can't help but smile as you lift your head from George's shoulder and look up to find Fred with his hand outstretched, ready to steal you away. You place your hand in his and he leads you to the dance floor as a slow song begins to play.

"This is familiar, eh princess?" He smirks, taking your waist in his other hand as he pulls you close. "I thought nothing would ever top your Yule ball dress but you always manage to surprise me." You smile up at him and can't help but study his gorgeous features, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world in that moment. Memories of the Yule ball danced in your mind, Fred's long hair, your glittering dress and the fun you had that night making a smile erupt on your face.

"You know, when we get married I hope there's none of this crap," he says, looking around at the slightly overdone decorations, curtesy of Fleur's imagination and her father's wallet.

"When?" You asked, a little teasing smile tugging at your lips, "that's a little presumptuous don't you think Weasley?" He smirks, spinning you gently in his arms before pulling you back into his chest, holding you even closer.

"Princess I've been calling you my future wife since the moment we first met, ask George," he chuckles slightly, still rocking you in his arms. "There's no one else I would ever want to call my wife."

You smiled up at him and reached up to press a kiss to his lips in the middle of the dance floor, not caring once bit about the mass of people around you. He kisses you back immediately, also unfazed by the people around you as you sink completely into the moment, just the feel of Fred around you and the sound of the music in the background.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look?" He says dreamily, his hand stroking the spot on your waist where it resides.

"Not in the last hour," you tease with a smile.

"Then I must apologise, a woman as beautiful as you deserves to be told constantly."

"I think you're drunk," you say with a blush at his words and he chuckles whilst shaking his head.

"Just in love," he replies giving you a look of utter adoration that takes your breath away.

You dance for a little while with Fred before George steals you away for a dance, then Bill and then Arthur. You laugh as Arthur twirls you around, seeing Fred doing the same to Ginny not too far away from you. You'd never felt more loved and included than you did in that moment, feeling like a Weasley already. Fred eventually steals you back from his dad as a more rambunctious song comes on and you dance wildly around the dance floor between both the twins, no longer caring about holding your composure or ruining your dress as you fling your arms about, jumping around with the younger guests.

You couldn't help but tease Fred as the night carries on, dancing a little more provocatively as the upbeat music continues, swinging your hips as you dance. You lightly grind against him acting as if it was an accident at first but he soon realises exactly what you're doing, his hands coming up to grip your hips hard as he stands behind you and leans down to talk in your ear so you'd hear him over the music.

"I know what you're doing princess," he says breathily in your ear, pressing his crotch tightly to your backside. Apparently your little deviant plan was working as you felt his semi-excited member pressed against you which made you smirk.

You soon around and Fred immediately places his arms around you, caging you into his body.

"Want to sneak away?" You said quietly with a little devilish smirk as you flirt with him, "you know, I won't be able to get out of this dress all by myself."

"Let's go princess," he says with a little smirk, patting your bum twice before taking your hand and leading you out of the tent back towards the house. You looked around you, checking that no one was watching but it all truthfulness you couldn't care less.

The house was still deserted when you entered, with all the other family members and guests still partying outside. Fred stopped at the base of the stairs as you began to bunch up the bottom of your dress to climb the mountain of stairs and suddenly lurched at you, picking you up bridal style earning a little surprised squeak from you and a chuckle from him.

He attempted to kiss you whilst you were in his arms and ascending the stairs but you quickly put an end to it, knowing that he'd most likely bang your head on one of the many wooden banisters or worse due to being distracted. As soon as you stepped through the door to his and George's room, he slammed the door shut with his leg, still carrying you as he went to throw you on the bed, briefly muttering a silencing charm before he turns his attention back to you. He wasted no time and crawled on top of you, pausing only briefly to take in the sight of you all dressed up and sprawled out on his bed before he captured you in a delicious kiss.

The kiss deepened immediately with Fred's tongue swiping at your lip, his hands already running over your curves, teasing both himself and you as he puts off touching you in the places you desperately want him to. His kisses begin to extend down your neck, towards your collarbones as you heave out a calming breath, already feeling wonderfully overwhelmed by the sensations. He kisses over your clothes breasts and a flick switches in you, needing to feel his lips everywhere without obstruction. He apparently feels exactly the same and begins fumbling at the little zipper on the side of the dress.

You untie the little cape and let that open wide, waiting for Fred to do the last little clasp which you knew he'd enjoy. You reach for his hand and pull it towards the little clasp in between your breasts which he opens in no time, watching as your naked breasts spill out of the dress, not having been able to wear a bra all day. He curses under his breath as he looks at your bare breasts and you take the time to slide the rest of the fabric down your torso so that you're left in just your lace panties.

"Godric you're beautiful," he says more to himself than anything as he looks over your body before his gaze flicks up to you and he smiles before diving it for another kiss. His hand that he isn't bearing weight on comes up to massage and toy with your breasts and you can't help but run your fingers through his hair, trying to get his mouth where you want it. He senses what you want and immediately begins feasting on your tits, licking and sucking as your sensitive nipples which had you gasping and writhing almost immediately.

You begin pulling as his collar, desperate to get him naked too as you push him, flipping him over so that he was lay flat on the bed. You crawl to straddle him and you don't miss the glimmer in his eyes as your almost naked body climbs over his, breasts swaying as you begin to suck at his neck, making him moan.

You pop open the buttons on his collar, pulling off his tie and open up each individual button, placing a kiss on the newly exposed skin as you make your way down his torso, thankful that he'd taken off his jacket and waistcoat earlier in the night. You almost ripped the shirt off him as soon as the last button was done and you ran your fingers over his gorgeous chest and shoulders, running down his stomach until you reached his little happy trail.

You moved down on the bed so that you were face to face with his crotch and began opening the fastenings of his trousers, pulling them over his hips and down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers, the outline of his impressive length clearly visible. You placed a kiss to his cock through his underwear and heard him groan, knowing he was watching your every move.

You looked up at him and saw his intense gaze, making you smirk as you tugged at the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, his excited length springing out and falling onto his lower belly as you tug away the underwear, discarding them across the room. The sight of him bare before you, his perfect cock already hard and leaking was enough to make your mouth water and you couldn't help but lean down and press a few fluttering kisses along his length, feeling it twitch against your lips in excitement.

Maintaining eye contact with Fred, you gave him your sexiest look and leant down further to take his cock into your mouth, licking all the way around the sensitive tip as you tasted him. He groaned and shoved his head back against the bed at the sensation as you took more and more of him into your mouth, running your tongue along the veined underside of his cock to extend his pleasure. As you began to bob slowly on his cock, you were rewarded with loud groans and curses of your name from Fred, his cock only hardening further in your mouth.

"Godric princess, your mouth is fucking perfect," he groans in bliss.

Your hand came up to support your ministrations as you began to pump the few inches you weren't sucking, running your hands over his balls and giving them a very gentle tug like he liked, all of which making him writhe and groan.

"Princess, get up here," he says, suddenly reaching his hand out for you. You kisses his tip one last time before crawling up his body, his hands immediately reaching for you as he pulls you into him, one hand cupping your jaw as he pulls you in for a sinful kiss.

"Merlin," he says, pulling away as he runs a hand over his face, "you have no idea what these little white panties are doing to me."

"Do they make me look innocent?" You ask with a little smile, kissing down his jaw, eliciting another breathy moan from Fred.

"Yeah, but it's like you're the bride, making me lose it picturing it being our wedding night," he admits, his hands gripping you tighter in his hold, one large hand cupping and massaging your bum covered by the white lace. Your eyes widen a little in surprise, though he doesn't see, as you take in his words.

"That get you going big boy?" You ask breathily in his ear, still nibbling at his jaw as your hands explore his chest, briefly catching his nipples as you roam. "Picturing me as your bride? You like the idea of fucking your new wife?" He curses and moans, hips surging at your words, answering your question.

"Fuck baby," he whines as your hand wraps around his cock and begins slowly pumping him, your thumb catching the beads of precum and rubbing it into his soft tip.

"Maybe you like the idea of ripping off my sweet, appropriate little wedding dress and seeing exactly what's underneath."

He moans louder than you remembering ever being as your speed increases, your words having an evident affect on him.

"Or is it that everyone would know how good you're fucking your new wife, that everyone would know that I belong to you?" His hips start to stutter and you know he won't last much longer, the mixture of your hand on his cock and the words in his ear almost too much for him as he nods along with you, whining and groaning.

"Mrs Fred Weasley does sound good don't you think?" You ask him with a little smug smile at how he curses, hands scrambling to touch your tits as you pump him. "Y/n Weasley, Fred's wife." He's so close you can almost taste it, knowing he's just need a little nudge with the game you were playing.

"You wanna pretend it's our wedding night? I'll let you do anything you want to me husband, let you fuck everything that's yours."

He moans loudly as his hips stutter, your hand working his quickly as your other hand cups his balls as he erupts, ropes of cum spurting from his cock and landing on his stomach as you pump him through his orgasm, not stopping until his body stops twitching. He's breathless as he comes down from his high, chest heaving as a look of bliss falls over his face.

"Merlin," he says, finally opening his eyes to look at you, seeing your wicked little smirk. "Fuck that was hot." You smile as you reach down to grab his shirt from the floor, wiping his pleasure from his abdomen before throwing it back down onto the floor.

"Now, I think it's time I looked after my bride don't you think?" He says with a wicked grin, hands already pawing at you as he cups your jaw, pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping over your curves as he suddenly pushes you down onto the bed. His mouth wastes no time in pleasing you, immediately latching back into your breasts as he goes all out, grabbing, toying and sucking your breasts, never leaving the other one left out.

His fingers begin to drift down your body and tease your inner thighs as your legs part in anticipation, your arousal dripping from you at this point. When Fred's fingers finally slip between your legs and he feels the abundant wetness of your panties he curses again, latching onto your nipple and giving a harsh suck making you gasp.

"Mrs Weasley, so wet for me," he says with a smirk, slipping one finger inside your panties and into your waiting hole. You moan out at the sensation, feeling his thumb come up to toy with your aching clit and you can't help but roll your hips, unable to keep still as his fingers work you perfectly. "So good baby, so fucking perfect."

"Freddie," you keen as he adds a second finger, adjusting his angle so that he can press up against your gspot, making you writhe against him. The panties restrict his movements but it doesn't seem to faze him, working his magic on you.

He suddenly pulls his hand from you, making you whine but he quickly grabs and spins you on the bed so that you're on your hands and knees, his ability to manhandle you so effortlessly only furthering your arousal.

He moved to stand behind you, pulling you towards the edge of the bed as his fingers toy with the white lace panties you're still wearing. His hands hook into the waistband and you feel him rip off your panties, pulling them right down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. You gasp as the cool air hits your sensitive pussy lips and within seconds his mouth is on you, feasting deliciously on your dripping cunt.

"Freddie!" You moan, pushing your hips back as his tongue slips between your lips, lapping as your clit before slipping into your little hole. His entire face is pressed against your pussy and you can hardly contain your moans as you feel his mouth playing you like an instrument. His tongue circles your clit before he sucks on it in little bursts, making your hips writhe against his face. He alternates between sucking and licking, covering himself in your arousal before he suddenly pulls open your ass and really dives into your pussy, locking his lips around your clit and sucking, tongue circling the little bud.

"Fred!" You shout as you cum, hips rolling over his face as he laps at you over and over in just the right spot, letting you ride out your pleasure.

Your orgasm has done nothing to calm your arousal, if anything it's only spurred on a further need for Fred as you turn and drag him down onto the bed with you, kissing him feverishly as you feel the signs of his arousal renewed against your leg.

"Freddie, fuck your wife," you say, dragging a breathy moan and a curse from his lips as your hands reach out for him in anyway you can get him, hips raising up in desperation.

"I've got you sweetheart," he reassures you as he kisses you one last time before reaching down to kiss your nipples, hands lifting your legs, seeing you beautifully exposed before him. "My perfect girl, so fucking hot."

"Yeah you got a hot little wife Freddie?" You tease, knowing that your words would only fuel his fire.

"The fucking hottest," he growls, pumping his cock twice before positioning himself right at your entrance.

"Give it to me good Freddie, only you can fuck your wife so good like this."

He curses and grabs hold of his cock, tossing your legs into his shoulders as you feel him slowly sink into you, stretching you out as he gets deeper and deeper. You both moan in unison as he moves his hips, hitting all the right spots inside you before he begins to pick up his pace, big hands holding your thighs tightly. He watches as your breasts begin to bounce in time with his thrusts and you can't help but raise your arms up to grab hold of the metal headboard so you can get leverage to raise your hips in time with his, letting the last inch of his sink into you.

"Yeah you like that sweetheart? Your husband fucking you good? Fuck you are so tight," he says, eyes flicking between your breasts and watching his cock disappear into your pussy.

"So good Freddie," you moan out, arching your back as he pounds into you. "Only you can fuck me this good." You right hand slips off the bed frame and you start to circle your clit for a little extra pleasure until Fred notices and bats your hand away.

"Dirty girl, your husband not taking care of you good enough? Is my big cock not enough for you?" He teases.

You begin to whimper in reply, "no it is, so good baby."

He immediately pulls out of you and flips you over like it's nothing, pulling your hips up slightly before he slams back into you. He takes no prisoners with his thrusting as you feel his balls slapping against you, his left hand gripping your hip so hard it'll almost certainly leave a bruise. His right hand snakes around your hip abs begins toying with your clit deliciously and you can't help but rock your hips, your insides clenching around Fred's thick length as you cry out.

"Oh Freddie!" You cry out, feeling thoroughly fucked as he slams into you. "You're so deep!"

"Come on my little perfect wife, I want you to cum all over your husbands cock," he says, leaning down and changing the angle slightly so that he rubs against your gspot making a silent scream erupt from you. The hand that was holding your hip suddenly shifts and he wraps it around your throat as he fucks into you with abandon, his hips stuttering just enough that you know he's close. His hand doesn't squeeze nor put any pressure on but just feeling his long fingers wrapped around your throat whilst he plays with your clit and pounds into you is enough to send you hurling towards your end.

"Freddie Freddie Freddie!" You chant as you cum, nails clawing into the bedsheets as you feel the white hot pleasure erupt within you, your hips rolling back onto his cock as he pounds you even harder, no doubt feeling your walls squeezing him. He suddenly lets go of your throat and scrambles to grab hold of your hips as he slams his length into you once more and holds you tightly to him, buried entirely in you as he cums. You can feel his cock twitching inside you as he shoots his load as deep in you as he can, groaning and cursing behind you as your name falls from his lips.

After a few moments, he pulls out and watches as his cum begins to dribble out of you, cursing once again at the sight. You feel him shift and he presses a kiss to your back before carefully shifting you so that you were lying on the bed as he slips in next to you, instinctively reaching to pull you into his side.

You lean up and kiss him as his arms snake around you, one hand resting gently over your breast, thumb idly passing over your nipple.

"I love you so much sweetheart," he says, pulling off your lips but never really moving away as he kisses you again.

"I love you Freddie," you say, pouring as much love as you can into your words.

"Gonna marry you one day princess," he mumbles and you can suddenly hear the tiredness in his voice.

"If you're gonna fuck me like that again, I'd marry you right now," you said breathlessly, entwining your fingers with his.

He chuckles, squeezing your hand in his as his eyes close, "give me 10."

"I want to be your wife one day," you say quietly a few moments later, no longer teasing. You feel Fred's eyes open and he looks at you with a look you can't place.

"Sweetheart, nothing would make me happier than you being my wife, but stop talking about it before I get hard again."

[candycandy00]

My Sweet Pet - A Togame x Reader Fanfic

Togame ends up with a pet hybrid cat girl he never wanted. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Hybrid AU. Togame is aged up (mid 20’s). Oral sex. First time sex. Reader has a prominent scar. Divider by @benkeibear! Any and all feedback is very appreciated!

Togame never wanted a hybrid pet. He’d seen the poor little things trailing along behind their owners, looking pitiful. He knew what they were used for, and just because they were literally created to be living sex toys, it didn’t make the situation feel any less gross. 

They were built a little smaller than normal adult human women, sporting cute ears and tails. He supposed he could see the appeal, but the idea of buying a woman just seemed wrong to him. 

Tonight as he’s walking home from the Ori, hands in the pockets of his Shishitoren jacket, he hears a small commotion coming from an alley. He stops and glances in the direction of the noise, blanching when he realizes the alley is right beside a hybrid Pet Shop. 

In the dim evening light, he sees a large man dragging a small woman with cat ears toward a van. She’s screaming, fighting with all her might to pull her little arm out of his grasp. Togame sighs. He knows how things work at these “shops”. He shouldn’t be shocked, and he shouldn’t get involved. But just then she looks up at him, and their eyes meet. 

“Please help me!” she cries, her pleading eyes full of tears. 

Fuck. How is he supposed to ignore this?

He walks over and grabs the man’s shoulder. “Hey. You’re hurting the lady. Could you ease up?”

The man turns to look at Togame, still tightly gripping the woman’s arm. He’s a big guy, a couple inches taller than even Togame’s considerable height, and bulky with a combination of fat and muscle. “Fuck off! This is none of your business!”

“Well, see, she asked for my help,” Togame says slowly with a casual tone. “That kinda makes it my business now.”

The man releases the woman so that he can focus on Togame. He draws back, raising his fist as he shouts, “I told you to fuck off!”

When the fist swings down, Togame catches it in midair, twists it while gripping the man’s forearm, and then uses it to throw the man to the ground. “And I told you to ease up,” he says, not even breaking a sweat. 

The woman with cat ears scurries over to Togame, hiding behind him as another man walks out of the shop and down the alley. 

“What the hell is going on?” the new arrival asks, looking from the man groaning on the ground to Togame. 

Togame feels the woman clutch his arm. Her hands are shaking. “I didn’t realize shops were so rough with hybrid women,” he says. 

The new man exhales. “We usually aren’t, but she’s a special case.”

Togame glances down at her. She looks up at him with those glistening, teary eyes. “Special how?” he asks, curious now. 

The man, who at least seems calmer and more reasonable than the one on the ground, gives the woman a pitying look. “We can’t sell her. She has an ugly scar on her body that makes her… undesirable.”

The woman seems to shrink at the words, looking at the ground as if in shame. 

The man goes on. “We tried to sell her, but no one wants her. I can’t keep feeding her forever, so I decided to put her down. That’s where we’re taking her.”

Togame feels disgust swirling in the pit of his stomach. They’re going to kill this woman because no one wants to fuck her? He never imagined things were this bad for hybrids. He looks down at her again, at her tear streaked face, her small, trembling hands clinging to his arm. 

Fuck. He never wanted a hybrid, never wanted anything to do with them. But he can’t just walk away from this. 

“How much is she?”

The man looks surprised. “You want her?”

Togame sighs again. “Just tell me the price.”

The man stares at the two of them, then shrugs. “If you’re willing to take her, you can have her for free. I’d have to pay to put her down anyway.”

“Guess I’ll take her then,” Togame says, looking down at his new pet again. 

She suddenly releases his arm and slips around in front of him, wrapping her arms around his torso in a soft but tight hug. 

Togame’s face turns pink. “Huh? What are you doing?”

Without answering, she breaks the hug, reaches down and takes hold of his hand, then pulls it to her mouth. He’s too confused to pull away before she opens her mouth and bites him. It’s not a hard bite, barely breaking the skin, but it does surprise him enough to make him jerk his hand out of her grasp. 

She looks up at him, a disappointed expression on her face. Togame looks from her to the shop owner. “Uh, is it normal for her to bite?”

The owner chuckles. “You don’t know anything about hybrids, do you? She just imprinted on you.”

Togame examines the faint teeth marks on his hand. “What does that mean?”

The owner shakes his head. “I don’t have time to explain everything. Look it up online.” Then he turns and walks back toward the entrance of the store.

Togame looks at his pet. “Are you gonna explain?”

She shakes her head, looking at the ground shyly, her face flushed with embarrassment. He hasn’t heard her speak since she asked for help. If not for that, he’d think she’s mute. Maybe hybrids just don’t talk much. 

“Guess I’ll just Google it,” he says, then he starts to walk out of the alley. “Come on, I’ll take you to my place for now.”

She follows after him, and for the first time he notices her tail, swishing excitedly behind her, the same color as her ears and hair. 

“I’m Togame, by the way. Togame Jo,” he tells her. She nods, but doesn’t offer her name. Does she even have one? Is he supposed to name her?

As they walk down the street, Togame pulls out his phone and begins reading about hybrids and what “imprinting” means. 

“Hybrids typically imprint on their owners within three to five days after being purchased,” one website says. “Once a hybrid imprints on someone, they feel an emotion much like intense romantic love for that person. They also feel extreme sexual arousal while in the presence of the human they imprinted upon.”

Togame stops reading and glances to the side, where the woman is walking next to him. She’s staring at him with glassy eyes, her lips parted, a blush on her cheeks. Holy shit, is she turned on right now? He feels his own face getting warm under her lusty gaze, not sure how to deal with this situation. 

Looking back at his phone, he continues silently reading about imprinting. 

“To complete the imprinting process, the human owner must bite the hybrid in return. Until then, the hybrid will feel uneasy and insecure. Some owners intentionally refuse to complete the process to keep their pet in this state, desperate to earn their owner’s love.”

That sounds cruel, but Togame isn’t sure he wants to complete the process. He tries looking up how to break the imprinting, but all the sources he finds suggest that is a very bad idea and would cause psychological harm to the hybrid. Ah well, he can decide a little later, after doing more research. 

There’s something else he reads about the care of hybrids: “Since they are genetically engineered to please their owners sexually, most hybrids use sexuality to communicate their feelings. Rejecting their advances will make them feel that you are rejecting their feelings.”

He shoves his phone into his pocket, wondering again how he’s going to navigate such a troublesome situation. 

**************************

You follow your first ever owner home, eager to find out where you’ll be living from now on. Just minutes ago, you were about to be killed. Even before that, you had resigned yourself to never being bought and spending the rest of your life in a tiny cage. Though the idea of being owned by a stranger, forced to do whatever he wants, was terrifying, a lifetime in the cage was even scarier. 

But now you can’t believe your luck. Not only were you finally bought, escaping death in the process, but your owner is kind! He saved you when he could have simply ignored you. On top of that, he’s incredibly handsome. 

You watch his tall figure walking beside you, a little bit further ahead. With his long legs, he could easily leave you behind without even noticing, but he’s considerate enough to keep pace with you. 

It’s no exaggeration to say you’ve never seen a human man so beautiful. You really didn’t even have to imprint on him to fall in love and be attracted to him, but the urge had been so strong in that moment, you couldn’t resist. You want nothing more than for him to complete the process. 

There’s just one thing worrying you. He hasn’t seen your scar. He was told about it, but that’s not the same as seeing it for himself. Maybe you can keep most of your clothes on, even when pleasing him, at least until he completes the imprinting. 

The two of you arrive at a tall building and climb stairs to reach the third floor. You haven’t been out in the city since you were a kitten, when they took groups of you out to learn about the outside world. But you remember buildings like these, called apartments. 

He stops in front of one of the doors, unlocks it, and steps in, motioning for you to follow. With a bit of excitement and a bit of anxiety, you go inside. 

The apartment is small, but cozy. He shows you around, giving you the very brief tour of the living room, tiny kitchen, bathroom, and single bedroom. 

“It’s not much,” he says. 

“It’s bigger than my cage,” you tell him. He looks surprised to hear your voice. You’ve always been quiet, not liking to talk much to people you don’t know. But this is your owner. You’re going to know each other intimately. 

The thought has you squeezing your thighs together. From the moment you bit him and began the imprint, you’ve felt a burning desire for him. It started out fairly weak, but has grown in intensity with each passing moment. Right now, you want to feel his big, strong hands on you, to have him climb on top of you. But you’re too shy to initiate anything. You’ve never had an owner before, so your knowledge of sex comes only from the videos they had you and the others watch. You didn’t realize arousal could be so powerful. 

You really hope he wants to enjoy his new pet tonight. 

When he shows you the bathroom, he awkwardly rubs the back of his head, messing up his wavy black hair. “You can take a shower if you want.”

Oh! Maybe he wants you to be nice and clean before he touches you. “Thanks,�� you say, stepping over to the shower and looking at his bottles of shampoo and soap. 

“I’ll find something for you to wear while I wash your clothes,” he says before leaving the room. When he returns, he’s carrying a few towels and a folded shirt. “You can wear one of my tshirts for now. I know it’s too big but we’ll buy something for you tomorrow.”

You take the bundle of items into your arms, thanking him again. He shows you how the knobs work and then steps out, shutting the door behind him. 

After waiting a few seconds to make sure he’s not coming back in, you strip off your clothes and turn the hot water on. After climbing in, you realize the water isn’t hitting your head. You look up to see that the shower is angled too high, pointing at the wall. Oh. It’s because Togame is so tall, over a foot taller than you. 

You reach up to change the angle, but the sprayer is out of your reach. You try jumping, but you still can’t touch it. That’s when you notice the small plastic stool in the corner with soap sitting on it. You move the bottles, position the stool beneath the shower head, and carefully climb up.  

***************************

Togame is sitting in his small living room, drinking a bottle of soda as he flips through the channels on his tv. His mind is elsewhere though, still trying to figure out what he’s going to do with the woman in his shower. 

He needs to look online for the safest, kindest way to release a hybrid pet. Are there shelters for them? Places that take care of them? Above all, he doesn’t want her to end up handed over to some perverted asshole who would do unspeakable things to her. 

Of course he’s noticed that she’s attractive. He’s human after all, and she was biologically designed to be sexually appealing. He sighs again, turning the tv off. 

Just then he hears a shriek coming from the bathroom, followed by a crashing thump. He jumps up and runs to the bathroom door, banging on it as he calls out, “Are you okay?!”

When no answer comes, he flings the door open. If she’s fallen and hurt herself, she might be unconscious! He hurries to the shower and jerks the thin curtain back, only to find his new pet on her back on the floor of the shower, wet, stark naked, and sprawled out. She’s groaning and holding a hand to her head. 

He quickly averts his eyes. “Uh, are you hurt?”

She apparently notices him then, as she rolls over to her side, her back to him, and curls in on herself. “Don’t look!” she cries, her voice even more desperate than when she asked for his help. “Please don’t look!”

He tries not to, but he can’t help seeing the way she’s curled up, shaking under the water. He turns his back to her. “I’m not looking! I just heard you fall and was afraid you got hurt.”

“Don’t look, don’t look,” she’s muttering, then finally says, “Don’t look at my scar!”

Oh. The scar. He saw it of course. It was hard not to. A very large, prominent burn scar stretched from the front of her stomach to her right hip. 

He peels off his jacket and turns to face her, quickly draping the jacket over her trembling form. He could deny seeing it, but he feels like that would only let her anxiety about it build. He remembers what the shop owner told him, that no one had bought her because of the scar. That must have made her feel terrible 

“It’s okay,” he says as she looks up at him, her hands pulling the jacket tighter around herself. “I already saw it, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Her eyes widen. “No! It’s ugly! Please don’t take me back! I’ll keep it hidden!”

Togame squats down to her level, looking her in the eyes. “It’s not ugly. It just shows that something terrible happened to you and you were strong enough to survive it. That’s beautiful.”

Tears fill her eyes, and suddenly she hugs him again. He pats her head, not sure how else to react to his affectionate little pet. 

Eventually she disentangles herself, and he stands back up before helping her to her feet. “I’ll go back out until you’re finished,” he tells her, then goes back to the living room. 

When she emerges later, she’s wearing a white T-shirt of his that dwarfs her small frame. The collar is practically slipping off one shoulder, and it occurs to him that she had no underwear to change into, so there’s nothing beneath the baggy shirt. He tries to avoid thinking too much about it as he collects her dirty laundry and puts it in the small washer that stands outside the bathroom. 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asks as he walks back into the living room. She’s sitting on the floor, on a cushion, her plump, bare legs curved up beside her. 

“Not hungry,” she says. “A little thirsty.”

He walks over to the fridge. In this tiny apartment, the living room and kitchen are practically one room. “Do you like ramune? I have water too.”

“What’s ramune?”

He looks up sharply. “You’ve never tried ramune?”

She shakes her head. 

He pulls a strawberry flavored one from the fridge and opens it for her. “Here, try it,” he says, reaching her the frosty glass bottle. 

She takes it, examining it closely. She even sniffs it. “Why are there bubbles in it?”

Togame grins. “Just try it. Trust me, it’s good.”

She lifts the bottle to her lips and takes a small sip. Then quickly takes another. She looks up at him with shining eyes. “This is delicious!”

He laughs. “See? I told you so! I have other flavors you can try too.”

At that moment, she smiles for the first time, bright as the sun. Togame feels his heart skip a beat as she happily drinks the soda. 

Afterwards, they’re both sitting on the floor, drinks finished, her hair nearly dry, when she crawls closer to him. She’s blushing, her eyes slightly glazed as she says, “Thank you for saving me, Master.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Togame says, giving her an uneasy smile. “Just Jo is fine.”

“Jo,” she says, as if testing how the name feels on her tongue. “Jo,” she says again, almost a purr, making him turn slightly red. “Will you complete the imprinting? Please?” She’s so close now, she’s practically in his lap, on her hands and knees. The oversized collar of his shirt is draping down, and he can see her soft tits through the gap, making him hyper aware of how little there is between him and her naked body. 

He swallows. “Uh, I need to think about it.”

She looks up at him with those big, adoring eyes. “Don’t you like me?”

He wants to look away from her, but he can’t pry his eyes away. “It’s not about whether I like you or not. I just…”

His voice trails off as she leans forward, nuzzling his abdomen with her face, slowly moving down. “Can I try to please you, Jo?”

The way she says his name, with such reverence, is making him feel heated. Her face moves lower, now brushing over his crotch. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, using all the willpower he has. 

She looks up into his eyes. “But I want to! I want to please you more than anything!”

His heart is beating faster. “That’s just because you imprinted on me, right?”

She shakes her head, and her face grazes over his rapidly hardening cock. “I imprinted on you because I feel this way. Not the other way around. So please?”

Ah, fuck. How is he supposed to resist a sexy little hybrid nestled between his legs, begging to suck him off? He doesn’t want to take advantage of her, but if what he read online was true, rejecting her might actually hurt her psychologically. 

Fuck it. 

“If you really want to, go ahead,” he says. 

Her eyes light up. “Thank you!” she says, as if he gave her a present. Then her warm little hands are tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling it down to reveal his erection. She blinks. “It’s already hard. And it’s so big!”

Togame looks away awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“It’s beautiful,” she says, wrapping her fingers around it as much as she can. “Like you.”

His face is getting hot. He’s never been called beautiful before, and it’s a strange feeling. Between his thighs, his pet extends her tongue and licks the tip of his cock. She lets her spit coat him as she keeps licking, running her tongue along his length for a few moments before taking half his cock into her hot mouth. Can she even fit any more than that? 

He can feel her throat, and then it seems to open up as she relaxes it and pushes him in deeper. Oh shit, he’s going down her tight little throat! She’s gagging around him, but keeping her composure, using her tongue to swirl around him. 

“Have you done this before?” he asks, remembering that he’s her first owner. 

She pulls away and looks up at him. “No, but they showed us videos so we would know what to do.”

As she takes him back down her throat, he groans and says, “You must have paid attention.”

Her mouth feels incredible, far better than any other blowjob he’s ever had. Then he remembers something else he read online, something he mostly skimmed over at the time. Hybrids’ entire bodies are designed to give maximum pleasure to their owners. Even their saliva has something in it to increase pleasure, and… their saliva also acts as a powerful aphrodisiac. 

Togame watches her suck his cock, his own arousal growing even stronger than he ever thought possible. Fuck, he’s gonna lose control here! 

He holds out as long as he can, even closing his eyes to block out the sight of her pretty face stuffed full of him. But that only emphasizes the wet, slurpy sounds she’s making, the little “mmm”’s of pleasure from her. But eventually, he can hold back no longer. He groans loudly as his hand flies to her hair, holding her head steady as he cums down her throat. 

She swallows it all gratefully, and when finished she pulls away for a moment before she begins to diligently clean his cock with her tongue. 

Togame stops her, taking hold of her arm, pulling her up and into his lap, so that she’s straddling him. His hands move to her hips, then slide up beneath the T-shirt. 

She grabs the hem of the shirt and pulls it down, looking panicked and shy. “M-my scar…”

“I told you, it’s beautiful,” he says, edging the shirt back up slowly. “Don’t hide something so special from me.”

She releases the shirt, letting him pull it up and over her head, leaving her totally bare in his lap. Whatever was in her saliva to get him turned on was strong stuff. He’s hard as a rock again already, and he feels an intense hunger for her like nothing he’s ever known before. 

He moves one hand down, slipping it between her plush, slightly spread thighs. She gasps as his fingers rub up and down her slit, feeling how wet and slick she is. She’s breathing hard and fast, her shaky hands on his shoulders. As he presses one finger in to stroke her tender, swollen clit, he says, “If I don’t fuck this wet little pussy, I’m gonna go crazy.”

************************

All your life, you were told your purpose is to please your future owners, whoever they might be. You were designed for it, were taught exactly what to do to bring pleasure to your human. At no point were you told anything about your own pleasure. It was irrelevant. 

So you had no idea your own body could feel so good. Jo’s fingers rubbing the little nub between your folds is sending shockwaves of pleasure through your whole body, making you release mewling cries, your eyes tearing up, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you bury your face in his neck. Your body is trembling, your needy pussy clenching around nothing. 

You want him. You wanted him even before you bit him. You never thought your own desires mattered, your own preferences in human men. But now you belong to a man who is everything you ever wanted. If only he would bite you back and complete the imprinting. 

His fingers move a little faster, a little harder, and your body jerks. You cum for the first time, clinging to him as you cry out. 

You barely have a moment to pant in his lap before he shifts on the floor, pressing you onto your back in front of him. You squeak in surprise as he hovers over you. He’s so tall, so much bigger than you.

With one hand he gently rubs over your scar, making you flinch. You still can’t believe he finds it beautiful, and having him touch it scares you. What if he decides it’s ugly after all? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? But he bends down and presses his lips to the scar, kissing it in several different places. You draw in a sharp breath, tears in your eyes again, overwhelmed by the love you already feel for this man. 

He smiles up at you, then he lifts your legs, placing them on his shoulders, folding you in half. 

You stare up into his lovely green eyes as he presses his cock into your dripping virgin pussy. He goes slowly, carefully, but you can see the strain on his face. He wants to shove in fast and hard, wants to fuck you wildly. He’s too kind for that, taking his time and making sure you’re not hurt. It’s your first time after all. You smile up at him, even as you feel the first stings of your hole stretching to accommodate him. 

“You can go faster,” you say, trying not to wince. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Really?” he asks, then going just a little faster after you nod. 

It hurts a little, but you want him to feel good, to enjoy your body however he sees fit as your beloved owner. Still, he remains careful, watching your expression, and your love for him only grows. 

He gives a few shallow thrusts, and when you moan in response, he goes deeper. 

“You feel so good,” he says, leaning down to kiss your lips. You clench tightly around him, excited by his affection. You want more of it, more kisses, more touches. You want his love. 

A small shudder rips through him. “Fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that, I won’t be able to hold back!”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t want you to hold back,” you tell him, locking him in your adoring gaze. “I want all of you!”

He grunts as he shoves in deeper, probably harder than he intended, but his self control is clearly slipping. He begins thrusting all the way in, with slow, languid, impossibly deep motions. You cry out, tightening your arms around his neck, and he kisses you again, one of his hands moving to stroke your hair soothingly. 

“Ahh… Jo!” you cry as his thrusts pick up speed. He’s holding you so tenderly as he begins to pound into you. “Jo… I love you! Please… please love me!”

His eyes widen as he looks down at you, his cheeks going pink. For a moment he just stares at your face while he fucks you, hitting a spot within you that has you moaning. Then, all at once, he bends down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. It’s not a hard bite, just enough to draw a tiny drop of blood. 

Enough to complete the imprinting. 

Your eyes fly open, your body responding immediately. Starting the imprinting process makes you feel love and arousal for him, but when it’s completed, those feelings grow wildly in intensity. You cum on the spot, nearly sobbing as all these sensations overtake you. 

Jo holds you firmly in his embrace, waiting for you to ride out your high before he releases the bite. Then he locks eyes with you as he plunges in deeper than ever before, his body going rigid as he groans. You feel his hot cum shoot into you in thick spurts, and you know he’s now claimed you as his own. 

The two of you lie there on the floor for a while after, you curled up in his arms. You look up at him. “Thank you, Jo.”

“Hmm? What for this time?” he asks, a lazy smile on his face. 

“For making me yours.”

He laughs breezily. “More like you made me yours.”

You grin, your face pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You’re finally content, knowing the two of you belong to each other. 

[softshuji]

𝟏𝟏:𝟓𝟗𝐏𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐀𝐍

Title: I love you as the day loves the night

Summary: Ran knows he is not a good man, but he's trying to be better for you. You don't argue often, but when you do, Ran confides in the only person who might understand him.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of sex, alcohol usage, Ran is a little sad, Rindou being a good brother, some vague suggestive parts, explicit pregnancy mentions, nothing too serious. Reblogs appreciated!

Ran downs another shot and winces at the burn as the alcohol coats his throat. From here, he can just about make out the thrum and trill of music in the club underneath him, and it seems the beat is pulsing in time with his racing heart.

Packed bodies, heads thrown back in laughter, tables coated in white, the floor sticky with the residue of drinks spilled and then hastily mopped up and underneath it all, the vinegary tang of sweat and sex.

Considering the time of night, he isn’t surprised to see Sanzu talking in low tones with Mikey on the other side of the private bar, his head dipping, pink hair framing his face. 

The scene makes him nauseous, and it takes ample self control not to vomit the contents of his stomach all over the mahogany table.

He rubs his temples, inhales the hot and heavy air and closes his eyes, throwing his head back to the artificial lights. The red glare dances on his skin and he shudders as the urge to throw up tickles the back of his throat for a second time. The tension under his knuckles is a spark of electricity when he grips the table for support.

‘Ran?’ 

A voice pulls him from the darkness, and he rocks forward in his chair, groaning against the anxiety that threatens to climb its way out of his chest as his eyes crack open, squinting at the harsh flare of the lights.

‘Rindou.’ He chews on his lip and makes to pick up his glass again, the condensation wet against his clammy hands. He grips it hard to force down the shaking that snakes along his knuckles. ‘You’re here.’

‘This better be good Ran,’ Rindou says and pulls out a chair opposite, propping his chin up on his palm as he takes in the sight. His Brother’s tired eyes, shadows clinging to the skin underneath, the pinched brows that give him a permanent frown, the matted hair that sticks to his forehead, curling at the nape and around his ears, the sweat that rolls down his temple despite the air conditioning. 

‘Thanks for coming,’ Ran says solemnly, his head hung low, eyes downcast.

Rindou narrows his eyes and reaches into his jacket, fishing around till he feels the sharp metallic edge of his cigarette tin, frowning when Ran’s hands shake as he leans forward to accept the offered cigarette.

‘So what’s this about then?’ Rindou moves the glass from Ran’s reach absent-mindedly, noting the way his Brother’s lips purse as he takes a long drag, holding the smoke in till it burns.

The smoke curls from his mouth, grey against the light. ‘Had a fight with My Girl. A bad one.’ This last part is a barely imperceptible whisper, and Rindou leans in, tucking his hair behind his ears as he strains to listen.

Ah, Rindou thinks, his lips a firm line. He scoots his chair closer around the table till the thump of music gyrates his ears less and gestures with an incline of his head towards the bartender for a drink. Under this light, the shadows under Ran’s eyes and the creases in his otherwise immaculate suit are all the more prominent. As is the shaky exhale when Ran puffs his cigarette.

He knows the wedding band on Ran’s finger is still new, that Ran hasn’t fully adjusted to married life and domestic bliss is a concept he’s not well acquainted with, that it had taken Ran a very long time to persuade himself that he was capable of marriage in the first place.

‘What about? Can’t be that bad.’ Rindou watches as the bartender sets down a jug of iced water and two glasses, backing up when Rindou shoots him a look, bowing profusely. 

He fills a glass, all but thrusting it into his Brother’s hands and Ran doesn’t know if he should be grateful for the action when his hands itch for something dark and strong, and the pounding in his head tells him it can only be lulled by more alcohol.

‘It was bad Rin, don’t think we’ve ever fought like that before.’

It was new and it was ugly and the feelings are still fresh this many hours later as Ran drowns his anxieties for the umpteenth time tonight. 

 It’s not as if the two of you hadn’t fought before. At the beginning, your relationship was fraught with hushed arguments, vitriolic whispers that caught in your throat, words said without meaning, anger and bitterness and negligence thrown back and forth, a sharp word here and there that turned into something else entirely.  Sometimes, not very often, he would say something that cut you, a clean slice through the tendon of your heart, and you’d wonder at what manner of love you had for him that had you constantly crawling back, sniffling down the line as you both whispered your apologies to each other. 

It always ended in love, with you against his chest, your feelings for him, that of tenderness, the need to protect him renewed when he kissed you again and again and again, fervently, desperately, his lips latched onto your neck as you hoisted your legs around his waist.

‘So?’ Rindou fills his own glass and gestures with a hand, tilting his head as Ran curls around his glass of water, an injured animal hunched and hurt, his back and shoulders heavy with an invisible burden.

‘I cancelled our date,’ he starts and his eyes flick to the ceiling. The elaborate and ornate decor seems a mockery right now, and he can practically feel the desperation leaking from his skin. ‘You know how Mikey’s been on my ass lately,’ he says and his eyes move to his boss seated in a booth with his eyes closed, hair fanning the bridge of his nose. 

The spark of his anger had started small, a flickering flame. You’d huffed and his ears had prickled at the sound and he’d raised his eyebrows as you crossed your arms, glaring at him as he shrugged on his jacket. 

And the minute the complaint had left your lips Ran’s hackles had risen and the flare of his temper had sparked to life and you had cried, left sopping wet stains on the corner of your sleeve as you threw the insults back and forth. What hurt more, you couldn’t tell- the complaint itself or the fact that your complaints had been met by the domineering force of his viciousness, the wall that had slammed down on your voice when he glared, his lavender eyes swirling with rage. Rage at you. 

You’d learned somewhat, to accept that part of him. The larger than life part, the fullness of him, as if he swallowed the light in every room, the ruthlessness that came with that, the cutting edge of his words when they bit into you. But this was different and as he’d towered above you, dragging a hand down his face, you knew it was the smallest he had ever made you feel.

‘Okay and then what?’ Rindou refills the glass and pushes it towards his Brother. 

‘She told me she never got to see me, that she was always fighting to have my attention, that she missed me.’ Ran has never felt so humiliated, and the self loathing wraps its hands around his throat, and the guilt and shame is thick in the blood that floods his ears and head.

Rindou winces and sucks in a breath, the crease in his forehead growing larger as Ran takes another long drag of the quickly burning cigarette. 

‘So what did you do?

‘I yelled at her, told her I had enough, that she was selfish, that she was being a spoiled brat when I was working hard for our future.’ Ran feels small as he says this, judged, even though he knows the opposite is true and even now, replaying his words out loud, he knows how harsh and critical they sound and Rindou only drives the point home unintentionally as his lips part and jaw drops open.

‘In those exact words?’

‘Yeah…Yeah in those exact words.’

‘And then you walked out?’

‘Yeah…’ A whisper against the glass, his hands still shaky, slipping on condensation. 

Rindou purses his lips and pauses momentarily. ‘That was bad nii-chan,’ he says, the childish nickname slipping past his lips with ease. ‘Y’know she hates that stuff the most. It must have hurt her.’

Something in him softens watching Ran’s head tip towards his chest, the sad droop of his eyes, the singular strands of hair out of place around his ears, curling towards his forehead. He knows Ran can be brash and iron-handed and sometimes even cruel. 

But he also knows that Ran loves you, and it’s a simple fact in itself. He knows he loves you as the day loves the night and the sun loves the moon enough to share its light. An indisputable unchangeable fact.

‘I know, I’m an idiot.’ Ran lifts his head, setting the glass down and dragging a hand forlornly across his face. He sniffles, and maybe it's the alcohol coursing through his blood, so much of it that his brain is fuzzy and swimming in his head, or maybe it’s the thoughts of you, your broken sob that died when he slammed the door, the hunched figure alone and left staring at the paint as he drove off to drown his sorrows, but he thinks he’s never felt this wretched or consumed by bitterness at himself for damaging something so precious.

‘Yeah no shit Ran, you messed up big time,’ Rindou says. A fact, not a criticism. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’ 

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘Well you’re going home to talk to her right?

Ran’s lips curve into an ‘o’ and he blinks owlishly, his vision hazy. ‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’ Even as he says it, he knows how cowardly that sounds. That he continues to run from confrontation, from difficult arguments and sullen silences, from the clenched jaws and the eyes misty with tears, that it’s a consequence of constantly treading on eggshells in the life he’s chosen, a life of constantly running.

‘You don’t know if that’s a- are you listening to yourself?’ Rindou is incredulous, his glass suspended in the air as he shakes his head. ‘So what, you’re going to sit here all night?’ He scoffs and blows the wisps of hair kissing his eyebrows from his face.

Ran’s head snaps up, his eyes a harsh deep violent and flaring with anger. ‘So what do I do then?’

‘Go and talk to her, obviously!

It’s Ran’s turn to scoff bitterly, despite the fact that he knows Rindou’s right, that running from this conversation only serves to cut through both of you and prolong the pain. ‘I can’t.’ It’s the most shameful thing he’s ever said, the most pathetic.

Rindou only softens in response and while he could berate him and drive home the point of how clueless he thinks he is, he knows this isn’t the time, that Ran needs both his honesty and his brotherhood, the lifeline that connects them.

‘Nii-chan…’ Rindou swallows and takes a breath, hot and heavy in this cloistered atmosphere. ‘If you’re not going to listen to her or give her what she deserves, then leave her, because she deserves someone who will.’ 

It isn’t laced with hatred, bitterness, jealousy or resentment, and the softness, the low cadence of his Brother’s voice only tells Ran that he is being given a rare truth, that Rindou wouldn’t say it if he didn’t care. As pathetic as he feels, with anger and tension and cynicism rolling in waves under his skin, he understands the gravity of what he is being given, the weight of what the consequences are. 

The thought itself however, is practically inconceivable. It’s another irrefutable fact that  you have made him the man he is, at least to him. You have chased away the days spent tossing in a cold bed, sheets wrinkled as he turned in his sleep, nightmares hooking claws into his back. You tore down those walls he had so painstakingly built as a nest around himself, believing he could never be hurt if he never loved.

Ran closes his eyes and his clenched jaw is a knife simmering on the precipice. 

‘And if she doesn’t want to listen?’

Rindou shrugs. ‘Then listen to her instead,’ he says, as if it’s the simplest concept. ‘And don’t get angry if she tells you things you don’t want to hear.’ She only does it because she loves you, he adds as a mental afterthought, a fact that he knows from experience and one he took too long to come to terms with.

Ran nods, his eyes fixed on a speck on the mahogany table and Rindou only hopes his words aren’t floating into the ether, that Ran’s addled state still allows him to grasp the gravity of them.

‘I’ll try.’ The words come out broken and cracked, his voice hitching as the breath forms a lump in his throat.

Rindou pats his Brother on the back. ‘Relationships are all about communication but it stands for nothing if there’s no comprehension involved too,’ he says. ‘It’s all well and good saying you want to talk to each other but are the both of you willing to listen? That’s what matters.’

A strange sense of pride tickles Ran’s chest as Rindou speaks. Pride in his Brother, in the way he raised him, in the way Rindou snatched a life worth living in a lifestyle that was less so and refused to allow it to break his spirit completely. Ran makes fun of him yeah sure, for the fact that Rindou is so homely and soft, tender and caring and embarrassed to hear it, but he’s also proud beyond belief, that Rindou had found something he loved so completely, or someone rather. Something that was so directly in contrast to the vicious and violent Brother he knew, raised and watched crack bones on a daily basis.

Underneath that pride comes the tendrils of love for you, the shame at having walked out on you when you had tried to talk to him, the renewed hope that perhaps he can fix his own mistake.

For the first time that night, Ran allows himself to roll the tension from his shoulder, his neck prickling as the coil of anxiety dissipates a little through the soles of his feet. He downs a full glass of ice water, the sharp sting a welcome sensation against the murkiness of his head. He winces as the cold rushes down his chest, cools the pulse of anxiety simmering in his belly.

‘How come you’re so good at this relationship stuff?’ 

Rindou chuckles and the faint warmth kissing his cheeks tickles the base of his neck as he hangs his head ‘It’s just experience. I had to work through this too, remember?’

Ran can’t help but smirk knowingly as the heat prickling his skin begins to ebb, leaving behind a strange tranquillity and it’s the calmest he’s felt all night since he slammed the front door. He knows he has a lot to make up for, that you’ve every right not to take him back, but he hopes the vigour of his efforts when he returns home will be enough to assuage the anger you no doubt have for him.

‘How is she?’ Ran asks, if only just to see the wistfulness in his Brother’s gaze, the glaze of his eyes when he stares at the glass in front of him, trying and failing to pull back the smile. 

Rindou’s lips curve into a grin and the tint on his cheeks only grows tenfold. ‘She’s good. You and your girl should come when you get time.’ 

‘And the baby?’ 

‘Also great. Still a little soon to be buying baby things though.’

Rindou smiles sheepishly, his leg bouncing with excitement and Ran basks in the wonderment of Rindou’s happiness, returning the easy smiles, his heart settling back in his chest. Perhaps it’s because they’re older now, no longer so naive and arrogant and flighty, consumed by distaste for the world around them, but they no longer find themselves retorting with quips wrapped in jealousy, with anger or bitterness. Things are easy between them and when they glance at each other in that unspoken way that siblings often do, it is always with love and brotherhood, memories of running through alleyways laughing as the rain comes down in droves.

As Rindou babbles about his wife and the baby soon to come, Ran’s mind drifts. He thinks of you, of your belly swelling with his child, of your quick smiles, the lazy Sunday mornings under the covers, him tracing patterns on the sliver of skin under your collarbones, his thumb brushing over the hollow in your throat. He thinks of all he stands to lose if he can’t fix his own mistakes.

Haitani Ran knows he is not a good person, he doesn’t expect to be called one. He knows he has the ability to be callous, pretentious, even downright selfish and he knows that the less than savoury aspects of who he is flare to the surface at the worst of times, that he bites at you, makes you cry. Domineering and cruel and unrelenting. 

But he also knows another indisputable fact. That he loves you, that he’d walk barefoot in the desert, the hot sand licking at his heels just for a glimpse of you in a mirage, that he, the unredeemable, is redeemed by the two people who love him the most despite his severity. 

And you, you love him too. You know you’ve forgiven him already, that the sharp and jagged edges of his cutting words have softened now and all you want is to bury your head on the smooth planes of his chest, your hand on his stomach as it flexes underneath you. You wonder if you can keep going like that, arguing and making up, the constant back and forth, torn between love and anger. For him, you would bear it all, the full force of his will. 

‘Ran?’ Rindou’s voice tears him from his thoughts and he shakes his head as the alcohol begins to loosen its grip on him.

‘Hm? Sorry, what did you say?’ 

‘I said, shall we go? I’ll drive you home.’ Rindou is already shrugging his jacket back on, leaning back to down the rest of his ice water. He looks at Ran expectantly, his clear violet eyes flashing under the sickly artificial lights.

‘Yeah…yeah let’s go.’ Ran stands and as he slips into Rindou’s car, he thinks again of your hair against his chin, your lips on his, needy and tender all at once, the way your teeth graze against his tattoo and his stomach jumps with the sensation it sends across his skin. He thinks of his hand tilting your chin up, kissing the sharp point of your lips, your pout that only makes him laugh fondly.

And as Rindou drives, he finds for the first time tonight that he is less scared and anxious about returning home, that instead he can only count the seconds till he can press his mouth to your neck, hear your giggle as you swat at him. 

You are his, and he is yours, and that is the way he likes it. 

a/n: happy birthday to my darling <3

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @mitsuwuyaa @haruwuchiyoo @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @anxious-chick

[skayafair]

Ghost Clothes

There were many enough posts on how deliberately and meticulously the costume designers approached the wardrobe choices for the characters.

What I want to talk about is a different thing - how clothes matter inside the show. Namely, the ghost clothes.

It's less prominent with Charles, so I'll mostly talk about Edwin.

Let's start with the fact that none of their clothing exists in a living world. It's not physical, otherwise people would have seen a pair of costumes flying around like with that jar. So I believe their clothes is being deliberately manifested.

Like I said, it's simpler with Charles: his clothing doesn't change much in general and remains mostly as what he was wearing when he died (he took off some because it was cold and soaked through but it still imprinted on his memory and mind). It's mostly just the colour of his polo that changes to reflect his emotional state.

But that's how I came to this whole train of thought because with Edwin it's much more interesting.

Because he doesn't wear what he died in. I'm not even sure it's his school uniform. Sure it has indications of "this is a young man and a student" but all in all doesn't look like a uniform to me. So Edwin chooses it very, very deliberately.

I wonder if he stumbled out of Hell wearing just the same night pajamas he had on when he was sacrificed - maybe just cleaner because it wasn't dirty or bloody back then and that's how he should have remembered it. Or maybe it remained dirty and bloody because Edwin didn't remember much of his life before Hell at that point, all the horrors being too fresh in his mind.

This look is defenseless. It's meant to be worn while asleep - the most vulnerable time. Edwin wore it when he was the most helpless and powerless - while being dragged from the bed and sacrificed. It's also a reminder of his time of torture in hell. It's also plain white - colour of purity - as a sacrifice - but also death. And, moreover, it's PLAIN. It has no distinguishing features. There's no Edwin in it, Edwin is being erased with all the torture. Lastly, this is something - just another thing - Edwin had no control over in Hell, it stayed there by default.

So I BET the first thing he did after pulling his thoughts together in living world was to change that fucking nightwear into something that was him. As an act of regaining himself and control over what was going on with his existence.

After he found out he could do that and how, of course. I wonder if he met other ghosts or just ended up back in school and stayed there for a while.

So no wonder Edwin is so thorough with what he wears. This is him - his armor, yes, but also undeniably and glaringly HIM. His existence, his way of it, his freedom and will, his choice.

Of course it reflects his attitude and relationship with others. With Charles Edwin has no issue with shrugging off both the jacket and the vest, leaving only the shirt - and even it has its sleeves rolled up and collar unbuttoned when he's ears deep in some research or problem-solving mode. Edwin is this comfortable with Charles, we all know that.

With Crystal it's always a full buttoned-up mode or I didn't make a mental note if it was otherwise some time. Hit me up if it was!

With Niko it's mostly a jacket off - which is a considerable step towards trust and comfort.

Anyway, these are little details.

And now imagine ending up back in Hell, but also back in that nightwear. Stripped off everything he was trying so hard to keep. A similar thing happens when he's taken by Esther. No freedom, no choice, no will of his own, no Edwin. Just a soul, a toy, an energy source.

The costume Edwin picked for himself as more or less default one comes back immediately once he and Charles stumble back into the living world. Notice this - he was wearing a different attire when he was dragged to hell.

Edwin regains everything - himself, his freedom, his connections.

Also I'm not sure how to interpret the gesture, but once the Night Nurse's boss proclaims that DBDA can exist as is further and they are let off the hook (although not off the leash), Edwin pats his jacket from top to bottom. I thought it might have been connected to his notebook and episode 4, but it also may be just that - "I'm still here, in one piece, and still me". His clothes is a proof of his freedom of will.

Lastly, there was another case apart from the main two when this is reflected. The girl who took her life because of two jocks - her ghost was wearing a sport suit. At first I couldn't understand why, it was clearly not what she died in (or, well, unlikely). But sport has been the most important thing in her life - her goal, her pride. No wonder that's what she chose to appear in.

UPD. Oh I've just remembered about the Cat King, another example of a character who goes through a variety of costumes. If my pov on Edwin's approach to clothing is correct, his words to the CK in the 8th episode make so much more sense. They really are alike - not just in loneliness.

[crustyfloor]

What is this horror that I just woke up to

Firstly, Luka's tattoo has finally been revealed (too bad it's not where I theorized it was...) Unlike the others, one detail is stark this time, that being that he was awake during the entire process. He's not even lying down when it would probably be less (by a pinch) painful, and more efficient if he did. He's watching. Even helping by keeping his shirt up.

And it seems he is still maintaining his heart rate even through the pain.

(And, expectedly he is thin so this would've hurt a lot more. I wouldn't be surprised if keeping him awake was to benefit his ability of endurance)

And we have his mugshot too. there are a lot of scribbles on his page so I tried to decipher the two clearest ones to me

LUKA - 010401 (His ID number)

And alongside that, we finally have the full cast tattoo process. (save my Till loving heart what are they doing to him.) HyunA and the girls on the top and Luka and the boys on the bottom.

On the topic that the Aliens in ALNST are horrible and can't be bothered to even put the pet humans to sleep while going through such a painful process, it doesn't look like Ivan is spared either and was also awake. otherwise, I don't know how he maintained that grip.

There's no telling for sure yet but his grip looks loose, perhaps he has a good pain tolerance.

And Till's picture. I think that's a full-body restraint right there (Like a straight jacket) If he was awake the whole time too then that's probably to be expected. There also seem to be wires around his face? a mouth gag? I can tell his is just...gonna be horrible to look at. (I am going to cause a scene. bashes my head against the concrete ARGH)

And we have everyone's mugshots, Sua -> Mizi-> Till -> Ivan -> Luka -> HyunA

(These were especially hard to read 💀 but they all seem to have their own signatures on their own pictures )

Sua (x2) - 1132 (in the circled area) - 020201 (That's close to her ID number- 020211.) - The rest is indescribable except for the "No"(?)

Another interesting part of this, we're shown Till's part of the Season 50 data book. A lot of the text is scribbled out.

Lyrics to unknown Till the end (And something scribbled out on the top) it looks like a draft copy. I can't tell if much changed from the version we have today..just got to see when the full version is out.

I tried to decipher as much as I could, take this with a grain of salt but his profile (left) is more of a teacher's note, one of his flaws being that he's aggressive, and he has a strong suit in performance. (Heavy emphasis on practicing music because his performance is his strong suit)

The C might be his overall grade, his only passing class was music.

(So many star scribbles..Mizi liked stars)

-

The album cover looks like a Brain (it reminds me of an MRI scan kinda) Is it Till's brain after all the experiments he's been through? if so, I'm not surprised it seemingly has a lot of abnormalities.

Also, the prominent signature in the middle looks a little bit Like Ivan's.

And finally the main piece, Given the similarities in data the person going through the test is still Sua.

The bandaging on her head is very confusing though, (is this the process of creating Anakt's child?) She also looks like she's yelling more than singing in this piece. (with the tight restraints it's hard to even tell but she doesn't look as relaxed as the second picture.)

Mental - Good (despite the red light?)

Cry (singing. maybe.) - Good

This could be in the literal sense that Sua was actually crying during this test, or this phase of the test. But Aliens have a warped perception of human sounds. They call crying, singing so...I don't know. If there was a lot of resistance from Sua during the earlier phases then the bandage is probably there as another restraint..so many restraints.

[shalomniscient]

hi! may i request nsfw hcs of shalom in a sundress? 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

anon u r so galaxy brain for this............. licherally feeding my shalom delusions HLDSJHDLSJHD

(SUN)DRESS || shalom x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. cunnilingus, praise, pet names (pretty girl), mentions of public sex, fingering, strap-ons, riding

notes. this takes place post-canon :) also features implied chief!reader, because i can’t really see shalom ever truly falling for anyone else (sorry rahu 😔😔) also this is more fic than hcs because i wasn’t sure what to write for hcs….. sorry anon 😭😭😭

Shalom doesn’t wear sundresses often, but God help you when she does. The dress is form fitting and loose in the best of places, and it makes her seem almost ethereal, like she walked right off the set of some whimsical romance movie.

She enjoys the breeziness of the dress, and the amount of movement it allows—both very useful for when she convinces you to fuck her while she’s wearing it.

More often than not, she won’t be wearing anything underneath, allowing you very easy access to her cunt whenever you please. You could even tug the neckline down, if you so pleased, to access her full breasts. All this culminates in Shalom often testing your self control when you’re in public. Sometimes you wonder if she really does want you to just hike her dress up ever so slightly and fingerfuck her until she sees stars in some mall bathroom or a less visited corner of a park.

She likes to keep it on even in the comfort of your own home, and you’re not complaining much. She looks like a fucking vision when she rides your strap, her pretty little dress flowing and fluttering with each movement. Or when she’s on her back, silky hair splayed on the bed lile a halo as you fuck into her, dress bunched around her hips so you can see the way her cunt swallows your strap.

All in all, between the two of you, a sundress has become an unspoken invitation for sex. It’s a little unorthodox, but that’s the name of the game in your relationship, so you very much don’t mind at all.

Shalom is a woman whose every move is calculated. You know this from experience. From every move she makes, to every word she speaks, nothing is without purpose. It is a remnant from her days as a HUSH—though you’ve ensured she’ll never return to that life, it is nonetheless difficult for her to completely abandon that way of life after having lived it for a torturous amount of years.

All of this is to say that, Shalom deciding to go commando in a sundress today was 100% something she planned, even if she smiles and tells you otherwise.

Shalom looks real fucking good in a sundress, and she knows it. The bodice cut of the dress just makes the hourglass of her figure even more prominent, the wide neckline showing off her collarbones and her ample chest, usually obscured in her loose blouse and bulky Paradeisos-issued jacket.

The dress itself is a pastel shade of wine-red, a little lighter than her hair. Thin spaghetti straps show off her shoulders, and God, that open back—really, it was quite the achievement you lasted as long as you did.

Shalom laughs airily as you pick her up by her thighs and press her against a wall of your home. You felt like you’d been tortured the entire morning on what was supposed to be a peaceful promenade around town on a lovely summer morning. Instead, the mere sight of her in that damned dress has left your thoughts in complete and utter disarray. Now that you’re back in the privacy of your own home though, you press hot, open mouthed kisses against the pale column of Shalom’s neck like a woman starved, while her legs wrap around your waist.

“Eager, aren’t we?” she teases, fingers winding in your hair as you kiss lower, tongue and teeth laving at her collarbones.

“Wanted you the moment you put this fucking dress on,” you rasp. “Almost couldn’t wait to get home.”

Shalom chuckles at that. “Poor little thing.” It turns into a pleased groan when your hands find the globes of her ass and squeeze appreciatively, your thumbs rubbing circles over the indent of her hips. You swallow all of her noises with a greedy, devouring kiss. Fuck, you just can’t get enough of her.

“Pretty girl,” you mutter, as your hands slip under her dress. “So fucking pretty, all for me, hm?”

“All for you,” Shalom breathes out readily, eyes blowing wide as she watches you sink to your knees. The floor is hard, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when you come face to face with her bare, dripping cunt. She holds the lower half of her dress up for you, letting it bunch around her hips as you dive in.

The first stripe you lick along her sweet cunt has her sighing in pleasure. Slim fingers wind tightly in your hair as she tugs you closer to her sex, your nose pressing against her stiff clit. One of your hands grips her thigh and throws it over your shoulder, giving you more access to her. Shalom moans, high and loud as you plunge your tongue into her waiting cunt, lapping up her slick right from her twitching hole.

You practically make-out with her pussy, the wet sounds of your tongue fucking in and out of echoing around the living room. You glance up at her, and blood rushes to your core when you note the flush in her cheeks and the way she bites her lower lip between her teeth. It inspires you to keep going, to make her shatter from pleasure, so you withdraw your tongue and replace them with two fingers instead, right to the knuckle.

Shalom cries out, a sound so beautiful you wish you could capture it and keep it forever. But you can’t, so you decide to just pull more of them from her lips. Her ankle digs into your back as her body tenses up, and you feel her cunt tighten around your fingers, even as you scissor and curl them just the way you know she likes.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” you ask softly, pressing kisses to her thighs. Her body trembles, and the fingers in your hair tighten.

“J-Just like that, my heart,” she says breathily, hips starting to jerk as she careens towards that high. “Oh, love, I’m—“

You take the oppurtunity to dive back in and wrap your lips around her poor, swollen clit and suck and that’s all it takes for her to cum all over your fingers with a loud cry, almost a scream. You replace your fingers with your tongue as you help her ride out her orgasm, not letting a single drop of her slick go to waste. You don’t stop until she’s pushing your head away, hips twitching from overstimulation.

At that, you rise to your feet, and she lets her dress fall back how it’s supposed to. The waist area is terribly crumpled, but neither of you really care. You place a hand on her waist as she catches her breath again, and you resist the urge to pepper more kisses along her flushed chest and neck. Shalom has always had a somewhat poor constitution, so breaks were necessary in between.

“I should wear sundresses more often,” she muses eventually, leaning her head against the wall and offering you a smug smirk. You roll your eyes, but what can you say when you played right into her hands?

[veritas-scribblings]

love - @jartylusmicrofics - words: 768 [mature]

Regulus has ended up with two of them: two of the neediest, most touchy-feely people he knows. They’re very different, Barty and James. Granted they’re both extroverts and incredibly needy, but that’s really where all comparisons end.

Barty is rough around the edges, a proverbial menace to society. He has a somewhat questionable sense of morality, does not love or trust easily, though when he does he is determinedly and terrifyingly loyal. He comes with his own warning label: approach with caution, be careful as he may bite. He cares not what people think, does as he pleases, and any attempts to manage him really only serve to further egg him on.

James, in comparison, is relatively posh and polished. A people pleaser who cares more for others than he does for himself sometimes. He is fiercely moral, occasionally to a fault. An optimist who is prone to bouts of depression, who cares deeply what other people think. He is quick to love, loves freely and widely. He burns so bright that it is sometimes blinding.

Regulus loves them both, albeit in very, very different ways. He needs them both in very different ways. He has never questioned it, as he has never needed to. Initially, though, James had. While it had frustrated Regulus for a while, it is in retrospect understandable. James had been the newcomer who had arrived long after the love between Regulus and Barty had grown, planted roots and become established. He had struggled to find his place in Barty and Regulus’s dynamic, before he’d finally come to understand that he didn’t need to find a place in their dynamic. That they would create a new dynamic for him that included him.

Regulus runs his hands over the expanse of Barty’s bare back, feeling the knobs of his spine, the ropes of lean muscle that shift slightly as Barty moves in his sleep. His breath has stabilised. His racing heartbeat as slowed, though he still shivers a little as Barty shuffles and squirms atop him.

Barty is sticky and sweaty, the weight of him half-draped over Regulus, who desperately wants to get up so he can clean himself and pee. But the desire to let Barty sleep—because Barty so rarely sleeps—eventually wins out and Regulus just lays there.

James stands in the doorway watching. He must have arrived home from work a while ago as he’s shed his jacket and loosened his tie. Regulus exactly doesn’t know when as he hadn’t heard. But from the prominent bulge in James’s trousers, he thinks he may have been there for a while.

James just watches, silent and heavy-lidded. He will not interrupt, Regulus knows, because he has likely decided that they’re having what he calls ‘a moment’. So, instead he waits for an invitation, less because he’s being respectful and more because he’s simply avoiding provoking Barty.

The thing is that Barty can get territorial; he doesn’t share as well as James does, no matter how fond of James he is. It’s a regular source of conflict between them, and while Barty is always up for a healthy quarrel, James much prefers to avoid conflict where his loved ones are concerned. In the name of domestic bliss, or something.

It is wise of him, Regulus thinks. He himself much prefers James in one piece.

‘Should have gotten home early,’ James eventually says, quiet so as not to rouse Barty.

‘You could have joined.’ With a little bit of careful manoeuvring, Regulus manages to free an arm that Barty isn’t clinging to and reaches out to James.

Taking Regulus’s hand, James sits himself down on the edge of the bed and leans over to kiss Regulus gently. And he responds as Regulus had thought would, with a soft, amused smile and, ‘You were clearly having a moment.’

James stretches, rolls his neck, causing the bed to shift a little with the movement and Barty to grumble in his sleep. ‘I’ll sort myself out in the shower. Work’s been hectic anyway and I’m tired and I’ve got another work call tonight—’ Rubbing his eyes, he groans into his hand.

Barty shifts again, burrowing his face into Regulus’s neck. He clings to Regulus even tighter, almost possessively, throwing his leg over Regulus’s body. James takes this as his cue to leave. He’s learnt, from many mistakes during the early days, to not wake Barty when he’s sleeping.

‘Give me a moment, I’ll come and join you,’ Regulus says, a little louder than he should as James has left for the bathroom. Barty grumbles more insistently, only half-sleeping now.

[maybe-moonchild]

CHAPTER 6

summary: in which it is the end. oh, what a ride this has been. WC: 6.0k

°｡⋆˚🕷˚⋆｡⋆｡

Later doesn’t come until after you’ve been discharged from the hospital the next evening. 

Since your ‘mugging’ resulted in loss of consciousness, you had to spend the night and morning under observation before discharge papers made their way into your hands. Well, more like into Peter’s hands. After he watched you struggle to hold the clipboard and pen to sign your name, he took over without a word. 

You had to change back into your dress which was less than pleasant. Red tinged the back of the collar from the blow to your head and dirt streaked the front but you don’t really care, not when you’re too busy being wheeled down the hall, out the door, and under the dreary skies to wait for a cab.

Peter is there every step of the way. 

He’s always there, hovering, whether it be sitting beside your bed, helping you into the cab, or opening all of the doors to your apartment, he’s there. His presence isn’t overwhelming considering neither of you are feeling particularly chatty. While you half consciously watch TV, he’s napping with his head in his arms beside you in that shitty hospital chair. When you start to get restless and struggle to find a comfortable position propped against the crappy pillows, he wordlessly adjusts them for you.

The ride back to your apartment is filled with a similar quiet, neither of you knowing what the two of you are. Before today, you hadn’t even been friends. Just two people maneuvering around an awkwardness, one as tangible as the furniture in your entryway as he guides you inside. 

Katies missing presence is apparent the moment you step in the door. Darkness holds the room captive, the only light coming from the windows, even that all gloomy from the weather. A part of you is relieved you might blurt out Peter’s secret to the first person you see, the knowledge settling in your stomach like you swallowed a firecracker. 

Plus, she texted that she’d be home late. Something about having dinner plans and needing you to check her in for a lobotomy in the morning... whatever that meant… 

“All I’m saying is that a 24 hour sushi spot… game changer,” you murmur, earning a sound of amusement from Peter as he shuts the door. Your keys find themselves in their home in the catchall on the table, clattering against the glass a familiar sound of home and you finally feel like you can relax. 

“You’re saying you eat enough sushi at two in the morning to justify that?” 

Your limbs still feel heavy that you don’t protest as he works your coat off your good arm, the other side hangs off your shoulder. 

You just shrug, returning another timid smile as he hangs up your jacket. “I’m just saying that I crave enough sushi at that hour that I could keep them in business.” 

“Okay. No more sushi at three in the morning,” he snorts. Something about the sound almost feeling like a laugh makes you feel a little lighter. 

“Do you want something to eat?” he asks. The way you scrunch up your nose is enough of an answer. After the events of last night, nothing sounds particularly appetizing. You’d eaten at the hospital since you were under watchful eyes, but you were more focused on the prospect of crawling into your own bed. 

You struggle to unlace your shoes with one hand, leaning back against the wall for support. It’s harder than you thought, the laces of your high tops being a struggle only reminds you that, for the next 6-8 weeks, everything is about to be a struggle. 

Without a word, he’s crouching in front of you so he can take over. You let him, head falling back and watching him, pretending you’re not making note of his mouth, how it pinches to the side when he concentrates. His freckles had become less prominent over time, once dusting his cheeks which now were likely in a constant state of bruised. His fingers are gentle as they work out the knot before pulling off your shoe, dropping it to the floor. . 

You tell yourself it's the drugs; that’s why you suddenly wish you had a microscope, magnifying every detail of his face so you could scrutinize each detail about him. That the remnants of drugs from your time in the hospital- who were you kidding? A part of your discharge requirements was that they were wearing off and your pain was managed by over the counter medications. 

Fine, then maybe it's simply because you are still trying to comprehend that Peter is Spider-Man. That you’ll eventually see something that makes it all click into place, making that somehow seem less like a dream. If he said it was all a dream, you might have believed him. 

Your shoes land with a thud beside the door, his hands finding your hips to steady you and himself as he stands. The contact is brief and you feel disappointed in how hard it is not to reach for him. It’s almost embarrassing, how strong of an impulse it is that you barely manage to keep your hands to yourself. 

So you focus on the things you can completely control. 

Change clothes, brush teeth- hell, maybe your hair too- and then right to bed. A shower can wait for morning and you will happily rewash all of your sheets in the afternoon if it means you can crawl under the sheets. 

“I’m okay, you know.” His brows furrow at the unprompted statement, like he can’t believe you would try and convince him of that. Peeking up at him from your lashes, the corner of your mouth turns up in what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I’m just going to head to bed… so… I doubt you got any sleep last night sitting up right in a plastic chair.”

Truthfully, you don’t think he had even tried to rest. You managed to sleep pretty well considering you were partially conscious and partially hopped off the steady stream of whatever drugs were floating around your IV. Each time you stirred throughout the night, you managed to get a glimpse of Peter, his leg bouncing anxiously, either half asleep or fully awake. 

“That would be really great if I believed you.” You frown at him, unsure if he’s talking about you actually saying you’re okay or if you’re going to go to bed when he leaves. 

His shoulders dip in a shrug. “I don’t want to leave.” His tentative smile drops for a moment. “You’re hurt…I feel responsible for it. You should never have been in the place to…,” he adds before lifting his head to look down at you. The words are bitter in his mouth, coated in something that tastes like guilt and shame.

But you also wonder if he hates the idea of being alone as much as you do. 

Except, when you actually think about it, if anyone else were here, you wouldn’t want them hanging around. You realize that it’s less about being alone and more about the crave of his company. 

Specifically, the crave of his presence. 

“You can borrow something of Flash’s,” you say over your shoulder. Peter lifts his head, taking a moment to raise his eyebrows before quickly catching up as you lead him down the hall. Drugs make your steps a little fumbled, Peter's hand hovering behind your lower back like a shadow. 

His mouth twitches into a little frown, “Flash?”

Katie and Flash, the two people had somehow wedged themselves into the spot that had once been his- No, no no. That wasn’t true. They’d trickled into his place when Peter had left it vacant. Through four years of high school and another four  years of undergrad, they stuck around. Katie’s room was just down the hall and Flash crashed enough on your couch to warrant him having a drawer here. 

They stayed with you. They didn’t leave. 

And Peter did. 

They were always there. 

And Peter wasn’t.

Before either of you really think about it, Peter’s moving with a muscle memory he didn’t realize was still ingrained in his limbs. He finds your bedside lamp, flipping it on to bathe the room in the dim light that sends the shadows stretching around your furniture. Then he’s flipping off the overhead light since you’ve always found it to be ugly and harsh. 

As you dig through said drawer of Flash’s, searching one handed for a T-shirt and sweats that will fit him, he opts to hover near the wall. 

“Here, just let me help,” he adds, his voice as his touch as he reaches for you, steadying you by the crook of your arm and your waist. “You. Sit. I’ll be your hands.”

You’re too tired to argue. Instead, you just nod and let him guide you to sit at the edge of your bed. Your pajamas are sitting on your desk chair, a habit you’d had since you were a kid. Peter collects them and sets them in your lap. 

“You can change in the bathroom and I’ll change in here?” 

The two of you go your separate ways so you can strip off your damp clothes in an attempt to escape the vague sterile smell lingering on the fabric.  By the time he’s returned, dark hair messy and arms easily filling out the borrowed T-Shirt so nicely, you’ve managed to get your shorts on.

That's it. 

“I can’t get it off one handed,” you grumble from where you have flopped backward on the mattress, “I can’t actually get the sleeve over my cast with one hand but I can’t use my other hands because it is clearly the problem here.”

That was where you had given up. Your legs dangle off the edge, eyes staring up at the ceiling as you frown. The frustration of  trying to do such a simple task with such a great difficulty had been enough to almost bring you to tears. 

Give yourself a break, you’d had a pretty rough day. 

The corners of Peter’s lips twitch as he slowly shuts your bedroom door. Even though your eyes are still staring flatly at the ceiling, he does his best to hide any sign of amusement on the chance that will send you over the edge and into tears.

“Come here,” Peter says, his voice soft and gentle as he uses one knee to kneel beside you. He pulls you up so you’re sitting upright and you let him, even if you can’t help but sigh dramatically. This was going to be a long six to eight weeks until the hairline fracture in your arm healed entirely. 

You watch him from under your lashes as he bends down. His fingers are delicate and deliberate as he starts to work on shimmying your sleeve around the cast. Your eyes can’t help themselves from flicking at his mouth; his bottom lip rolling under his teeth in concentration, trying to avoid his knuckles accidentally brushing along the skin of your stomach or back

“There,” he says, gently brushing your hair back behind your ear. “There...all set.”

You would mumble more than just a thanks if your brain didn’t feel like it was short circuiting. The sleeves dangle at your sides, arms free from your dress while it is still on in some capacity and you’re not sitting entirely exposed either. 

“You can uh… just… turn around.” There's a long pause and your skin feels so hot you want to die. 

“Instead of leaving the room- if you’re comfortable with that…”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, definitely.” Peter doesn’t hesitate as the words practically spill from his mouth before he is spinning around. “Yeah, I can just- I can’t see anything but, here I can cover my eyes.”

“Pete, you don’t need to cover your eyes-”

“Too late. Already covered.”

You shake your head fondly, feeling like the entire room has taken a breath. 

It might as well have been a lungful of carbon monoxide when you quickly realize that you’ll be changing just a few feet away.

You’re an adult; grow up. 

Clearing your throat, you move gently when you pull off the dress, feeling exposed even if he clearly isn’t looking and he’s humming to pass the time. Peter is humming, facing the opposite direction and rocking back and forth on his feet. At first you think he’s only doing it because he’s trying to make it as apparent as he possibly can that he is not looking. Then you start to wonder if it’s because he’s uncomfortable at the prospect of you changing behind him, just a few feet away. 

Now you feel uncomfortable at the idea that you have now made him uncomfortable. But why would he be uncomfortable over that after last week when you’d slept over? When his mouth was hot and feverish on your neck, distracted in the quest of tasting every inch of skin- you yank the NYU sweatshirt over your head to shut your mind up. 

“You need anything?” he asks after a moment has passed. 

You shake your head before realizing that he can’t see you. “No, but thank you. I’m good, by the way. You can… uh… look now.”

The first thing he does is take your dirty clothes and toss them into your hamper with ease; just so you don’t have to get up. Then, he’s lowering himself behind you and making quick work at freeing your hair from the collar of your sweatshirt as you try to yourself. 

You inhale sharply when he brushes against the back of your neck. 

Fidgeting with the plaster of your cast is a good way to hide part of your face and avoid his eye. Peter’s head is tilted to try and see you anyway before he seems to hesitate, reaching out before pulling his hand back. He must decide to go for it then, inhaling quietly and letting his fingers dance with your own. 

“You’ll have to sign it,” you hum, knocking his knee with your knee to lighten the mood. “Make it look less ugly right?”

It works, a little smile appearing on his mouth before he tries to press his lips together to stifle it. This time when you look up, Peter’s not looking at you. While it looks as though he’s studying your intertwined hands, you know him enough to know he’s staring at the cast and letting his mind runamuck with guilt. 

“It was like when we were ten. When you tried to teach me how to skateboard.” You look down too, but more so that you can remember the memory. 

“God, that was a nightmare,” Peter chuckles quietly, shaking his head. “You’re first and last time on a skateboard.”

“Nuh uh, I got on it after that.”

He snorts quietly, lost in thought, “Yeah, only when I held both of your hands.”

The two of you settle into a quiet that makes the splatter of rain against the glass echo. Gray clouds hide the sun, making it feel later than it truly is. Everything seems quieted by a thick blanket of solitude. 

As kids, the two of you had a knack for trouble and injuries. Usually it was Peter that needed some degree of medical attention with scraped knees from the pavement or a sprained wrist when he didn’t notice a particularly troublesome crack in the sidewalk. Your injuries were usually in conjunction with his when he tripped you on his way down or a spout of shenanigans sent both of you falling down a few steps. 

Teaching you how to skateboard had been difficult that Saturday afternoon when you were both nine. Red and orange leaves covered the driveway, half raked into piles the two of you had made to jump into before he found a slug and you decided you’d had enough. 

So when you agreed to let him teach you to skateboard, gripping each other's arms as he slowly pulled you forward, he’d been ecstatic. He was even more ecstatic when you felt confident enough to let go and roll a slow few feet to a stop. Until you stepped back, lost your balance and the skateboard flew right out from under you. 

Peter really did try to catch you when you fell. His fingertips brushing the sleeve of your sweater and instead, you went down hard, a hairline fracture in your wrist that was donned in a red cast for most of November. The guilt was so consuming that he climbed in your window every night for a week because he couldn’t seem to rest.

It had been nothing like tonight. Tonight, neither of you had been reckless and stupid children. A Mickey Mouse band aid or a popsicle didn’t dry watery eyes until the pain was dissipated by the distraction of cartoons. 

Nothing could make this better. Peter had been so worried for you. So, so worried that he’d nearly broken his own phone. When he’d thought of Fisk deciding to do something drastic to make a point, he didn’t care about finding his backpack he’d stuck to a dumpster to change. He didn’t care about showing up in his suit, his secret identity not mattering if you were…

His fingertips press against the pads of your own before tracing down each digit and brushing your knuckles. It’s strangely nice; calming you even deeper towards the bone deep exhaustion that has settled in all of your muscles. 

“It’s because you’re Spiderman right?” you breathe out, more like a statement than a question. “That's why you stole those files. That’s why you wouldn’t tell me how you got them.”

There’s a pause before he manages to nod slowly. 

“Yeah,” Peter says in a low voice. “That’s why. It was… a complicated thing, you know.”

Another pause, but this time, you nod slowly. What are you supposed to say to that? 

Everything seems more complicated than possible. You still can’t quite grasp the fact that he’s Spider-Man, no matter how hard you try to envision him crawling in his window, yanking off the mask to reveal his staticy looking hair or flushed face, you just can’t see it. 

The entirety of Midtown High had noticed when he stopped getting his ass kicked without throwing a punch back, how he filled out and seemed a little bit brighter. You’d noticed more than anyone, making sure it seemed like you noticed less than everyone else. 

Katie had been the first one to make an offhand comment about it while you two were stretching for cheer practice senior year. Both of you had been co-captains, roles you’d been destined to fill since freshman year that you worked your asses off to obtain. She said it as she was tying her dark hair into a pony, voice hushed and teasing. 

‘Know how Parker always bolts out of class randomly? Like all the time? Ever wonder if he’s the friendly neighborhood hero? Hey, you guys used to be close, you think that Parker has a body like that- ow!’

You’d promptly shut her up with a playful smack on the arm. 

The idea that Katie had been the one to put it together first, sporadically mentioning that she still believed that dorky Peter Parker could be the one swinging around Manhattan, despite you and Flash writing it off. At least you didn’t have to go through the tremendous I-told-you-so that she would have since you could never tell her. 

He shifts and starts again,“I’m sorry you had to…” Play hostage by a crime boss, spend the past day in the hospital and now two months in a cast.

He can feel his throat burning when he admits that, feel the burn of shame in his chest as he looks at you. Who he was now was based around a secret. One that he didn’t want you to ever know to keep you out of danger. 

Turns out, secret or not, you had been in danger anyway. 

You know that there is a jumbled mess of an apology tangled on his tongue, his mouth parting again and again like he can’t quite find where to start. It’s why his silence doesn’t make you angry that he’s not more vocally apologetic. You know he’s practically beating the life out of himself inside of his own head. 

Just because he was apologetic didn’t mean that you were thrilled at him either. 

“Do you know how scared I was?” You think you’ve asked him that before- no, you know that you have asked him that before. The question either an irritated grumble as you put a bandaid on his elbow or a yell, like when he wiped out on the MET steps because he was spontaneously attempting to grind along the railing without a helmet on.

“I know,” Peter mutters softly, nearly wincing at the thought. The nervous fidgeting of his fingers still, wrapping around yours and squeezing to give you some sort of reassurance. “I know. I know how scared you must have been.” 

He turns to face you more.

“But I promise you - I’m going to do everything in my power to never let anything like this ever happen again to you. I mean it, okay? I am never going to let Fisk anywhere near you.”

Your frown deepens which is not the reaction he had anticipated. 

“No. Not for me,” you clarify. “For you, Pete. When Fisk told me to call you… I just.” The thought of it makes you wince. “I thought he was going to kill you. It’s why I hung up the phone. I just couldn’t…”

Couldn’t be the reason something happened to him.

You'd hung up the phone because it was the only way you thought would protect him. It would almost be funny; the prospect of you protecting him now when he clearly did not need it

Peter says your name but you do nothing. He says it again, sitting up straighter and speaking with a little more desperation, “Look at me.” He takes your cheek in his palm and moves your head so you’re staring directly into his eyes. He wants to make sure you can see the intensity of what he has to say.

You let him, chewing on your cheek. 

“You don’t need to worry about me. I am not weak. I can take care of myself.” Peter’s voice is steady, confident. Confident in himself, at least, less so spilling his heart out to you again like he had the night of graduation. “Come on,” he smiles somberly, thumb tapping your cheek in the hopes that you would understand that he wasn’t the same uncoordinated kid that used to get his face punched in. 

Okay, so maybe he got his face punched in or worse on the daily, but that was different. 

You tilt your head to the side, both to raise an eyebrow at him and press your cheek further into his palm. His eyebrow raises in challenge since it's clear you don’t quite believe him. 

“I’ve been worried about you since I watched you fall off your skateboard the day I moved in across the street,” you breath out with a watery smile. “I’ve never stopped.”

Peter’s entire chest aches when you reach up to touch his face, knuckle grazing his bottom lip. Not even he could deny the way his body lights up whenever your hands are on him. 

He’s still in love - deeply and thoroughly and undeniably. 

Peter knows he’s in for it if he lets this go on much longer. He doesn’t know if he could resist the urge to kiss you all over again. 

“Well, stop worrying about me,” Peter says before leaning down towards you, your faces only inches away from one another to emphasize his point. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

Some days, you thought that not having him in your life the past eight years could’ve killed you. You didn’t think you’d survive it again. But god… you’d let him kiss you even if he left you again.

The words and your soft, gentle expression makes Peter want to kiss the breath out of you.

“I promise.”

You believe him. Relief floods your body and makes your head hang so it’s resting against his. Peter leans forward too, both of your eyes falling closed and sinking into the touch. 

Deep in thought, Peter considers his options while you focus on the feel. He’s always been a bit impulsive and it’s clear that there’s something he’s dying to say. Peter taps his forehead against yours a few times while he debates speaking. 

“I have something to say.”

When you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you. Something about it makes the both of you break into shy smiles, foreheads pressed together and fingers all tangled. 

“Okay.” Your mouth barely moves but he’s so close that the faint sound easily carries. Your previous need for sleep is gone and you can’t imagine wanting to move. 

“I've always loved you,” Peter says without hesitation. It's a simple truth; one he's never been confused by.

Love, in him, has always been inevitable.

It’s easier to put out there since he’d come to terms with it so long ago, it felt as much of a part of him as sticking to the ceiling was. 

You don’t quite expect it and lean back only enough to see his face, blinking in surprise. It’s the abruptness of it that catches you off guard. A part of you isn’t entirely shocked at the admission- you might’ve even known deep down after he kissed you four years ago. 

He goes still too but doesn’t let go of your hands. They tighten faintly like you might slip away now that he’s said it out loud. 

"I don’t remember exactly when. I think I first thought about it when we were twelve and the wood of your trellis snapped when I was sneaking back out and you-”

“Pulled splinters out of your arm for an hour so May wouldn’t know,” you finish for him, swallowing down the urge to cry. “Yeah. I remember.”

Peter nods, slow at first then quickly shaking his head with a determined look. 

“No- well yes, but not only that.” The bed dips under his weight as he shifts closer to look at you better. “It was so dark outside and it knocked the wind out of me. I thought I was dead. I literally thought I had fallen to my death. One second, I totally thought I’d died until you practically jumped out of the window after me. You didn’t even… you didn’t even hesitate.”

The memory makes your frown deepened since you had never been particularly fond of it. It still made you recoil at the thought, even all of these years later. Not for yourself, but for him. 

When you don’t say anything again, he scoots even closer, knees pressing further into your own but you don’t dare move away. His hand cups your face, his thumb feeling for every inch of skin it can reach. 

“And then- yeah, fine. Then you did pull splinters out of my arm for two hours but that wasn’t when I knew. It was when you nearly jumped out your window after me.”

Something about that makes your smile watery, which in turn, makes him choke out a laugh. If you speak, well you’re not entirely sure what words or sounds would come out of your mouth. 

“But I think it was really the summer before freshman year when I realized it.  When that kid two years older than us shoved me on the subway and broke my science fair project. Remember?” He continues hopefully. You can easily nod that you do remember. Peter slips his fingers from your hold to card through your hair, forcing you to fidget with the seam of his sweats from where your hands rest in his lap. 

“And right before the doors closed, you yanked off his hat and yanked me off the train- god, when the doors closed and he realized what you did- that was when I knew. I knew it. You looked like you felt bad about it but you did it anyway and you did it for me and right then I knew that I was in love with you.”

What happened next suddenly clicks.

“And then high school started,” you sigh disappointedly. Peter almost wonders if he said the wrong thing when you look away to stare out the window. 

High school started and you joined cheerleading and you had less time and he felt left behind. More and more and more seemed to wedge itself between you two. That resentment he carried, how his usual go-with-the-flow attitude he normally had with everything else seemed to sour when you needed to reschedule. How he’d get all quiet when a guy approached you at your locker. He’d even been on better terms with Flash at the end of high school and he’d seemed to warm up to him more than he had to you. 

Each second of silence piles up on his chest to suffocate him. His fingers twitch like he’s going to pull away but you place your own hand on his, turning your face back into his palm. His eyes study the little furrow in your brows, knitted and giving away to the depth of your thoughts. 

It's your turn to beat yourself senseless inside your own mind.

“Thought you hated me.” The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s shaking his head, so vehemently that your head moves with him, like it will prove his point. 

“Never,” he assures. “Never once. Not a single second.”

You’re so flooded by emotions that you have to just sit there to keep yourself from crying. That admittance is harder than believing he did. Hatred was a much easier emotion to stomach than heartbreak. It's just as hard to stomach his presence, how easily he has slipped back into your life, making you aware that nothing you’d ever done had actually filled that hole. 

But he’s here now; your hatred for Wilson Fisk maybe only goes so deep.

“Mine was this past Thanksgiving when you were in Gwen’s car in front of our mailboxes and I couldn’t convince myself to walk outside to return a package.”

Peter feels all the air being knocked out of him when you blurt that out, but his only reaction is his eyebrows rising closer to his hairline. 

If you couldn’t face him before, it’s worse now so you rush to fill the silence. 

“You guys were just sitting there talking, laughing about whatever it was you guys talked about and I didn’t want to walk out there. So I tried waiting for you to go back inside because if I didn’t mail those ugly pants that day, I wouldn’t get a refund. I was already running late to get to Katie’s but I just couldn’t get out the door. Then I realized that if I waited, I’d have to know what you guys were doing and I didn’t want to know that.”

His brows pinch together as he tries to think back to the memory. He remembers being in Gwen’s car, rain blurring the outside world as they caught up while she was in town for the holiday. 

“I just…” you start again, a little slower and less rushed, “I didn’t want to know that she went inside or that you two left together or… I just didn’t want to know. So I went to Katies and couldn’t figure out why it bothered me so much.”

You’re not sure that it even makes sense, making you groan silently in frustration. At least Peter seems to be somewhat following but you’re more thankful for his patience in the quiet of your bedroom. You aren’t sure what else to say, so you come right out with it.

“But I didn’t know until that it was… probably love… last week when I woke up in your bed. It was why I ran. Running seemed easier.”

He’s quiet for only a few seconds, “Was it easier?”

You think about that question for a long moment when you realize you don’t exactly know the answer. Was running easier? Sure. Maybe. 

Trouble seemed to follow Peter like a shadow, falling into his hands like it was an old friend. But you were an old friend. So maybe you, Peter, and trouble went hand in hand. 

You shrug, “Probably not.” The answer seems to disappoint you more than it disappoints him. His shoulders don't sag as he continues to hold and touch your face, head cocked to the side to watch you intently. 

“That answer sucked,” Peter snorts. 

Whipping your head to look at him, your mouth drops open so you can scowl, his dumbass ruining the moment. 

“You suck.”

Peter throws his head back and groans with the same dramatics that he harbored as a kid. 

“Oh my god, shut up.” Peter can’t help it - he leans down, his hands slipping into your hair and his mouth claiming your lips as if he would die if he didn’t act on that impulse.

This is the fifth time you’ve kissed Peter Parker. 

It’s the first time you know it won't be the last. 

Your eyes flutter shut at the feel of his lips but it takes you to catch up to the moment. It’s slow and deep; the way your mouth slides over his in happy reciprocation of the kiss. 

Finding a place to put your casted hand is tricky until you manage to rest it against his chest, fingers twisting into the collar of his shirt as an invitation for him to lean further into you. Nothing about the way he holds you, cupping your face and settling on your side, feels fleeting. 

You kiss him until you’re nearly dizzy, knowing you could keep going until you were sick. What a nice thought, being able to kiss him so much that it somehow lost its novelty and became ubiquitous. 

More time passes but you can’t seem to keep track of it, the only tell being the slowing velocity of your mouths. Peter reluctantly pulls away first when he manages to remember that you need rest from how much you're leaning on him. 

“You’re in my head…” Peter mutters to you after taking a second to catch his breath. “You have been ever since we were kids.”

Your quiet laugh hums against his mouth as you drop your forehead against his, telling yourself it’s not because you’re too tired to hold your head up. 

 “And now I’m in your hands,” you hum, finding peace in the giddy exhaustion making you buzz and droop. 

This time you both laugh, giggling softly like little kids and then laughing even harder at a crack of lighting that makes you both jump. 

“Let me just… let me.”

With his super strength, you practically weigh nothing in his arms as he picks you up, kneeling on the bed to pull back your covers. He helps you crawl in, always there, always touching you; a hand on your back, gently shifting you by the waist. 

You practically melt into the pillows, body aching and sore as it welcomes the comfort. There are so many things that still need to be sorted out and talked about before anything can become permanent. 

But all of that seems like something for later. 

“Sleep; you need it,” he says softly from where he’s sitting beside you, brushing a few strands of hair off your face and behind your ear.  

“Stay; I need that too.” Peter twists his mouth up in that little way he always does when he’s trying really, really hard not to smile as he climbs in next to you.

[artiststarme]

Baby, it's cold outside

@nburkhardt, you asked for a cute introspective fic, I hope this fits! I hope everyone likes it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Eddie Munson had always hated winter. He hated snow, sleet, frost, and hail. Unfortunately for him, that's all there was in Indiana between late November to early March. The nights grew darker, the trailer was always slightly too cold, and his loneliness seemed exacerbated. Unlike the peacefulness and solitude that he felt in autumn, empty nights in the trailer’s living room while Wayne was at work only served to make him feel alone… burdensome. 

It wasn’t like he could cry to his uncle about feeling lonely when he’d been pulling double shifts at the plant practically since Eddie had moved in with him. He couldn’t complain to his bandmates that hardly put up with him enough to call them friends. And it wasn’t like he had anyone else in the town that cared about him even remotely. 

Most of all though, Eddie hated how the winter reflected the frigidity of the town. He knew they hated him year-round but it seemed so much more prominent in the cold. Their malicious laughter when he slipped on ice, the hardly-visible sneers from underneath scarves, and cruel words seemed harsher. 

One winter day though, everything changed for Eddie. He’d chosen that day to avoid the stifling isolation at his trailer. Winter had only just begun but its effects were already visible. Eddie’s pale skin looked paler, the bags under his eyes were heavier, and the tip of his nose was almost permanently red. The weather was dreadful, softly snowing with the flakes sticking to the ground. Still, he had to leave the trailer park to keep his sanity, weather be damned. He sat on a low hanging swing at the elementary school playground, snowflakes stuck to his hair and a blunt between his lips. He was still alone but it wasn’t so unbearable out in the open. 

“Hey, uh. Mind if I join you?”

A sudden voice took away Eddie’s peace and he flailed like a cat electrocuted before he was able to regain his bearings and grip the swing chains with a vice grip. He choked on the smoke of his blunt and looked through leaking eyes up at the cause of his shock. 

“The fuck?” He hacked while trying to determine who’d bothered him.

“I’m sorry man, I really didn’t mean to scare you. I just… you looked lonely and I’m kinda lonely too so I thought we might as well be less lonely together,” the stranger’s voice seemed genuinely apologetic and it pulled the strings in Eddie’s heart. As soon as his vision cleared though, his system was flushed with ice.

“Harrington? What the fuck are you even doing here? You come all the way over here to pick on little ole me? Pathetic. Where are your cronies, hiding behind the bushes waiting for your signal so you all can jump me? Fuck you,” Eddie snarled before trying to get up from his place. He stopped only once Harrington’s hands landed on his shoulders and pushed him back down. 

Harrington looked gutted, “no man, I’m alone. I was just… trying to get out of the house when I saw you here. I’m sorry for bothering you, I’ll uh. I’ll see you around, Munson.”

Despite his words, he stayed still for a moment longer, eyes focused directly on Eddie’s. Upon closer inspection, he didn’t appear to be the King Steve he always was at school. He wasn’t confident here. His posture was slumped, his mouth was twisted in a grimace, and his perfect hair looked like he’d tried to pull it out himself. Most notably though were the angry bruises on his cheekbone and along his jaw. Eddie had seen more than enough abuse in his life and the aftermath left it like a scar. Hell, he saw it every day in the mirror. 

He couldn’t let Steve leave with this revelation. It seemed that the King and the Freak had more in common than they’d ever known. With a sigh, he pulled a fresh blunt out of his leather jacket pocket and handed it to Steve. 

“Here man, I could use the company. And I’m not sure I could finish this one alone.”

Steve’s grimace fell to reveal the most breathtaking smile Eddie had ever seen. “I’m sure you could Munson, but I’ll stick around. Thanks!”

They sat on the swings in the snow for what seemed like hours. They talked, they laughed, they sat in comfortable silence at times. When their hands got too frozen and their faces flushed, they stood awkwardly as if neither one wanted the night to end. 

“So uh, you want to come back to my place? It’s closer and I have hot chocolate,” Eddie muttered, his fingers twisting his rings in anxiety. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening here but he knew he didn’t want it to end. 

Steve ducked his head to hide a grin, but accepted nonetheless. “Lead the way, Munson.”

They spent the remainder of the night drinking hot cocoa, cuddling in Eddie’s small twin bed, and sleeping off what was a great night for them both. When they woke up, things weren’t awkward or stilted, it felt like they were just as they should be. Thus in the winter of 1983, King Steve and Eddie “the Freak” Munson became friends in the public eye. It caused quite the stir around both the school and the town alike but it didn’t bother them. And in the safety and privacy of their homes, they became more. They became more than strangers or friends and instead evolved directly into boyfriends that held hands, space heaters for each other in the cold of the trailer, and partners that they could each depend on. 

After what started off as a dreary night alone in an empty playground, Eddie’s life changed for the better. From that day forward, his hatred of the winter faded into a feeling of gratitude. The cold weather had guided two lost and lonely souls toward each other. After that, seeing snow or frost, or sleet always reminded Eddie of the day that he and Steve became each other’s person. They would never be alone again as long as they had each other. 

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[nyaagolor]

Now that you’ve played through all the episodes, how would you rank them?

Oooo this is tough, in part bc I like all of them a LOT. The designations between a few of them, especially in the middle category, are gonna be kinda arbitrary, but I'll do my best :)

Also this got stupid long so I put it under a readmore! Spoilers abound, as one might expect

8. Dawn of the Golden Witch (Episode 6)

I have some... mixed feelings on this one. I understand what Ryukishi was going for in using chick-Beato and Battler's interactions to parallel Battler with Kinzo and show Kinzo's dynamic with Kuwadorian Beatrice via analogy, but I also think it kinda fumbles a bit. There are points (cookie scene being a big one) where I feel like the characters take a backseat to the themes and the whole narrative feels off. Chapters 5 and 6 are supposed to be a perversion of the original story that Beatrice has lost control over, but there are points during 6 especially where I think it kinda loses itself. The rest of it is great (Erika's VA is a goddamn champion) but the very beginning of this chapter is easily my least favorite part of the series

7. Requiem of the Golden Witch (Episode 7)

I don't really have strong feelings on this episode. It would have been the high point in just about any other VN, but Umineko is so consistently fantastic that Episode 7 didn't really hit me as hard as the others. It did make me wish we got more Kyrie though, even if I know exactly why she wasn't as prominent as many of the others. Kind of insane that my second least-favorite arc is something I would rank like an 8 or 9 out of 10, Umineko is just that goated (get it???)

6. Turn of the Golden Witch (Episode 2)

While I do love watching the worst woman ever conceived have a 48 hour progressive mental breakdown, Alliance hits every point I like about the Rosa / Maria dynamic but does it better. It's still an arc I absolutely adore, so it feels weird to rank it so low, but I think about it a lot less than the other arcs so down here it goes. Shoutout to this arc for making me laugh to the point I could no longer speak not once, but twice. Kanon chuuni jacket and leashed Battler you will always be famous

5. Twilight of the Golden Witch (Episode 8)

I know that ranking episode 8 in the bottom half sounds like sacrilege but this arc had so much Kinzo and while I understand his narrative importance I Do Not Like Him. The fact that Kinzo is in the Golden Land but Kuwadorian Beatrice isn't makes me want to throw bricks at things. Other than that though, absolutely stellar. I bawled at the ending. The next day I thought about it more, misinterpreted it, and cried more, then I thought about it more deeply and talked with friends, really started to understand the core messages, and sobbed even harder. As these things tend to go. This episode ruined my life. Would recommend.

4. Legend of the Golden Witch (Episode 1)

note: 4 and 3 are interchangeable I like them both a lot for different reasons

The first time I read this episode, I thought it was great. The further I got into Umineko, the better it got. Now, with a full understanding of the plot and knowing how this chapter serves as self-reflection through the other (Sayo via Natsuhi) it serves as probably the most raw glimpse into Sayo's mindset we get. This episode ruins me and I'm pretty sure when I inevitably reread it I am going to dissolve into a puddle of goo. Also Natsuhi is there and she's my favorite of the matriarchs so I'm a little bit biased :)

3. Banquet of the Golden Witch (Episode 3)

This is one of the funniest pieces of literature I have ever read in my life. EVA-Beatrice, the entire sob story (that I, like Battler, fell for completely), the two towers fight scene... 10/10 no notes. I don't even have the words for how much I adored this one. I wish I could read it again for the first time.

2. Alliance of the Golden Witch (Episode 4)

Ok so fun fact I thought this arc was kinda boring at first, and was a little miffed I had to constantly go through Ange's little side quests when I just wanted to see Beatrice and Battler again. Fortunately, Ryukishi has a beautiful way of changing my mind very very quickly and the more I think about this Episode the more I love it. It has some of the most powerful emotional moments, a really good rehashing of the themes, and is a lot tighter and more condensed than I gave it credit for. There's a LOT that happens in this chapter, and it's been growing on me a lot-- while it doesn't take the number one spot in terms of my favorites, I do think it's the best written of the 8 episodes. As a bonus it focuses a lot on Maria who is one of the best characters ever and my darling baby angel.

End of the Golden Witch (Episode 5)

This is the platonic ideal of Umineko to me. The layers of metanarrative, the perversion of a formula to reiterate its structure, the use of genre conventions as a dual-use in-universe and metanarrative element, Erika. End of the Golden Witch is when I changed from someone who loved Umineko to someone who was obsessed with Umineko. The ending is one of the most visceral parts of the VN and I will fully admit I cried. There is so much happening in this episode I could talk about it all day. Also Natsuhi is there. Hey girlie <3

[fulgurbugs]

since i am not immune to being addicted to going to target… when i was in there i saw that spectra had been put up along with the potion minis restock. so… i got her.

she retails for 24.99

she’s here! and she’s clear. partially. her monster gimmick is that her legs and her arms are see-through to a point, before grading to white.

the chains are rubbery and flexible. in terms of her outfit, it’s a bodysuit and a jacket piece that goes over it.

here’s the clear effect on her arm:

the hand peg makes it less seamless than the leg transition, but still super cool effect. she has saran hair, (which i also love the style of, with the little braids that go over her head) though it’s definitely got that gold ol g3 curly box hair matting. i believe she has a largely similar body sculpt to cleo.

face card:

happy to see her strong cheekbones return. it gives her her signature uniquely gaunt look, and im glad that they’re prominent and noticeable in her g3 sculpt. im sure there were fights about it behind the scenes

shoe check. like her g1 shoes, these have a similar ball and chain motif with the heels. i love these, they’re super fun.

here’s what she comes with. her pet ferret (?), backpack, shades, some sort of basket of ghost themed snacks, a coffin shaped tablet, phone, drink, and ghost pepper sauce

i will say, im more of a fan of the pet than usual. probably because its not dog shaped.

here she is with some of the accessories on. i decided i actually am gonna display her with her phone. at first i was wondering why it was like… green but then i realized it matches her eye color!

unfortunately the purple backpack just gets completely lost in this outfit. i think they could have gone with a pinker tone or even the same color as her phone. the shades also aren’t anything crazy this time.

obligatory .5 shot

and that’s spectra’s core doll! managed to squeeze her in on one of my mixed character shelves lol… not the best spot but it’s what i’ve got

[void-f3lt]

🌟•:{Iter Astra}:•💫

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have jolted up the moment he saw a humanoid lizard with sharp ass teeth, cause that headache and ringing ears was not worth making said orange and black monitor lizard with horns, also, jolt. Actually it looked like he scared the shit out of everything in the other cells, whoops at least he knows everyone else knows now.

His cell was less wide then the others and it has a cubby like area at the top, back and only solid wall, it was about seven and a half feet up, with a gap between the tile that he could probably put his fingers in so he could climb that easier. There were many different types of aliens, some sentient some not, in neighboring cells. 

One cell to his left and four to his right that he can see residents in but, there was definitely more probably twelve to sixteen and he can also hear at least one other floor under him. He was much smaller than all of them, since the stupid height average in space is six to seven feet tall for sentients that looked like the prey species. Though most of them still have claws, sharp teeth and/or talons, so like the animals back on Earth, they probably could still eat him if they hadn’t been fed for awhile. 

Whatever they drugged him with made him feel a little dizzy and nauseous so he laid back down. He did not whimper. He was just… unwell. *Yea. That was it.* He wasn’t scared because he was in space jail with predators and lost his brother... He was just feeling a bit sick. The lights seemed to be strong UV lights given the fact that he can see his Blaschko lines *I really hope I don’t get skin cancer from this or something. Why do they use UV lights in the first place.*

Every now and then, he’d look at the aliens in the other cells, they were interesting to look at and he was curious. There were aliens that walked outside his cell too and they wore armor and they either had more muscle or spikes. One looked dull purple humanoid scorpion, that one was staring at him for a little too long in his opinion. He tried to commit how often they passed by to memory. It would be helpful later to know their patrol schedule. 

The staring from nearly every other sentient seeming being there was unnerving. It felt like hours before most of them seemed to lose interest in him. Now a few aliens in the cells to his left and two from a cell to the right, seemed to be arguing amongst themselves. As Vecko would call it ‘a skinny big bird’ looking alien kept looking back at him, he kind of remembered seeing one back on another planet fighting some criminal, so he, a free traveling unlicensed space pirate, is trapped in a trafficking ship with a fucking space cop. 

As he realized this he fell on his back banging his head violently on the metal floor, groaned and said with his hands covering his mouth and eyes closed, “Fuck my life, why does it always have to be Me.” And judging by the sudden silence he scared the shit out of the other sentients again.

The big bird like sentient looked like a humanoid Sulpher-Crested Cockatoo, but with a longer beak. Instead of white feathers they had light gold and their crest was more beige-taupe. Pistachio green eyes. Their wings didn’t look like they could fly with them but they still looked longer then Tobey was tall and he was 5’3. *Fucking hell, why does the interplanetary height average have to be in the fucking double digits?* They also had taupe brown talons that were most likely three inches on the wings and the ones on their legs were closer to four or five inches. 

Also it was wearing a worn down sleeveless to accommodate their wings, black leather jacket that looked like the color of juniper bark in some places, the collar being the mast prominent from where he’s angled. *Probably faux given.. would they actually have issues with real leather? Are there cow looking aliens?* They also had a white tank-top, black sleeveless leather jacket, a black belt with venetian red and dark and possibly stained with blood, beige cargo pants, it looks more like shorts though. Apparently Alt/Punk fashion is universal, who knew.

After seemingly the end of a conversation that he completely missed Sulpher (what he’s calling the bird) stood up and started walking over to the bars and then squatted in front of Tobey, who shifted back just a little bit before realizing that Sulpher can’t reach him cause of the electrocuted bars. A slightly familiar warbling came from Sulpher. He only says slightly because he’s heard similar when stealing borrowing his ship from the sellers in that unlicensed port he crashed into. 

Sulpher didn’t try to reach through the bars but they were looking directly at him. Not his eyes though cause apparently that’s a universal way to either get your ass beat or cause an entire building to be evacuated. Yes he learned that the hard way. Fun days.

Sulpher shifted after a moment, bringing their armwings together to fiddle with its talonfingers. *Were they nervous? Is that what happened to their collar?* They made noise again and Tobey noticed a pattern as well as a questioning little shift to its tone. *So it is a language!* And they were trying to ask him a question. Now he’s getting excited. The lizard from the right-most cell said something, and then he whipped his head back and made everyone flinch, again. He should really stop doing that.

Sulpher then replied with a bright tone, and  turned their attention back to Tobey. They pointed at him and then drew a circle in the air. Tobey shifted to sit criss-cross (which Sulpher and a dull navy with pastel pink accents, humanoid dragonfly looked at him weirdly when he did so *probably not normal then*) so that he could see better and also to be more comfortable, he and his brother always sat like this when they got dad to go on a rambling spree.

Were they asking what planet he’s from? That seemed possible based on the context. “Earth.” The aliens all froze when he spoke. Sulpher recovered first. They put a hand to their chest. “### ##### ## Ariho.” Tobey squinted his eyes a little in frustration that he didn’t know words he hasn’t been taught yet. “Ariho,” they repeated while patting their chest. They’re telling him its name! Or species. Either way not a normal word, therefore important.

“Ariho?” He mimicked almost perfectly, (a hint of a British and it would have been perfect) and apparently that isn’t common thing and/or they just weren’t expecting him to get it right first try. Everyone listening startled *again, why??* but then Sulpher made a chirping sound. They were probably happy, maybe they were part of a species that was oriented on parent/child relationships. 

That’d be pretty cool, and convenient if he played his cards right. No, no manipulating.

Then Sulpher/maybe Ariho pointed to Tobey. Do they want his name?

“Tobey,” he offered. 

“Obeey?”

“Tobey.”

“Toebean?” That one made him laugh.

“Tobey.”

“Tobey?”

“Tobey,” he confirmed with a nod and thumbs up, which in hindsight probably confused them a little but either way they got names down, Now what?

Sul-Ariho? repeated the pointing and drawing a circle motions, this time adding a gesture to the cage around them. He was still a little dazed so, they were back to square one on that one. The charades repeated a few more times before they realized he wasn’t getting they tried something else, that he could not make sense of in the slightest therefore that also failed.