#thinking about them and their cursed domestic bliss

[unavernales]

"yes, we have dinner reservations at the seafood restaurant you picked out. yes, the hotel has a spa that you'll be getting customized treatment at." royal treatment, in other words. nothing but the best for his kitten. "so can you please get in the fucking car? our flight's in an hour and a half." serghei hates flying but he's eager to show noori their new home. he's got some of the best interior designers and architects in the world to properly map out whatever noori wants out of the place. the dhampir had grown out of the bachelor pad he had been inhabiting when he met noori and wanted something... roomier for them. more elegant. his skin itched at the thought of staying in the same place he had been an unabashed whore in, especially when he and noori were going to get married. he knows his kitten hates being busy, but really, moving is for the best. noori can lounge as much as he wants once they've settled. @flwercrwn

[hercarisntyours]

i had a dream about tfone oplita and they had a mini oplita it was adorable 🥹

[heart-eyed-love]

Love is Embarrassing

Summary | You and Eddie embarrass yourselves in front of each other a lot, but that’s okay, it only seems to make your relationship stronger

Contains | Fem!Reader, Established Relationship, Embarrassing Moments, Cursing

Word Count | 1.8k

Currently, You, Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant, all stand outside the fence surrounding one of the abandoned houses in Hawkins. It’s not a very tall one, but it did slightly ease you, putting distance between you and the sketchy house.

“Do you guys really think this is a smart idea?” Jeff asks, looking over to you and the boys.

“No, actually. I think this is really fucking stupid.” You answer in return, agreeing with Jeff on the fact that this wasn’t the one of the smartest ideas your boyfriend has had. You’re not entirely sure what good could come from this.

“It’ll be fine… It’ll be fun.” Eddie reassured you, lightly putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it an affectionate rub. You only side eye him.

Grant is already making his way closer to the fence when he asks, “Who’s going first?” And when no one answers you narrow your eyes at your boyfriend.

“Wasn’t this your idea?” You ask

He rolls his eyes, “Fine, whatever…” He approaches the fence. And in an attempt to impress, he begins climbing over the fence with ease. Trying to be all slick and suave about it, he’s about to jump off the fence, and be successfully on the other side. But once he does, his jeans catch on the fence… and they rip.

And you cringe once he’s back on the ground, having unfortunately ripped his go-to jeans. His face falls immediately when he notices, but the boys behind you are giggling.

“Dude…” Is all Jeff mutters out between giggles, but Gareth has always been one to make it worse.

“Are those Bats?!” He’s now cackling at his boxers, and even though Eddie's glare would usually make him shut up, the fence between them has made him brave.

“Shut up.” he doesn’t dare look at you yet, cheeks aflame. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, so you’re not sure why he’s so flustered.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” You shrug your shoulders, looking over to your boyfriend, who’s now currently trying to get a better view of his ass, trying to make the rip less noticeable.

Without looking up at you he says, “We’re going in.” You roll your eyes and make sure way over to the fence. Climbing up carefully as to not be in the same predicament as Eddie. He holds his hands out for you, helping you get down safely.

“Let me see…” You say, now that you can get a better look, hand on his back to turn him so you can see. The other boys begin climbing over the fence as Eddie lets you examine the rip in his pants.

“Is it fixable?” He asks softly.

“Oh, Yeah. We’ll have these fixed right up…” You pat his shoulder, “But for now…” You place your hand on his ass right over the rip with a smirk, “This will have to do…”

Last night was the first night sleeping over at your boyfriend's house. It was a domestic night of bliss, dinner was eaten at the table together, skin care was done, and you both brushed your teeth as you looked at each other through the mirror with a smile.

It was perfect, and the night was concluded by snuggling into his side, head resting on his chest as you both passed out, faster than you ever had. It felt right.

But the next morning was a different story.

You were woken by a soft shake to your shoulder, with eyes scrunched almost closed, you lifted your head from Eddie's chest and felt a stickiness on your cheek. Cracking your eyes a bit more open you’re able to see a wet patch on his shirt. You now know what the stickiness was as you violently tried to wipe the embarrassment off your cheek, then the same to the patch of drool on his chest.

“Shit, I’m so sorry…” You grumble, and Edide can’t help but smile at the pleasant sound of your morning voice.

“No, don’t worry about it, I just was wondering if you were hungry? I thought I could go get some breakfast…?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice…” You say softly, cheeks a little flushed.

“K, let’s go get dressed and brush our teeth and get rid of that morning breath.” He says with a smile, and your eyes go wide and to your mouth in an instant.

“Oh my god.” You whine out turning away from him, and he chuckles, following right behind. Pushing himself up against your back.

“Hey! Don’t be embarrassed, at least it’s not as bad as mine…” He says, lifting himself onto his elbow to get a better advantage on you as he begins blowing his breath into your face. You can’t help but giggle as you squirm away, cause yeah, at least it’s not as bad as that.

“Eddie, stop!” You now move your hand to cover your nose, a smile evident on your face now.

“Let’s go brush our rats' nests out and our morning breath away together, Baby…” He smiles cheekily as he takes your hand to pull you up with him, as he attempts to rake his other through your hair.

He then leans in to try and kiss you, and you pull away with a scrunch of your nose, “Is that really a good idea right now?” You tease.

“I can’t think of a better one.” Giving you the sloppiest kiss you had the honor of receiving.

You and Eddie had been in his bedroom when he acted upon his urges. He always thought it was so much fun to wrestle and play around with you, and he was happy to find out you had just as much fun.

But today, he took it to another level. An unfair level.

He had you pinned down on the bed, and he was tickling you relentlessly. And after having a pretty fulfilling dinner that wasn’t really going well with your stomach.

Giggling as you beg him to stop, losing your breath as he continues, the unfortunate happens. And a small fart escapes you.

You freeze under him, and he’s frozen too as he hovers over you. You can only imagine the shade of your face as Eddie stares down at you. He’s not even laughing, honestly that would feel better than the intense staring he seems to be doing right now.

Wanting to get out of this vulnerable and embarrassing position faster you sit up quickly and shove him off of you.

He’s falling onto his butt on the bed, with a slightly offended, “Hey!” And he’s pushing you back down so he’s on top of you again, moving down to kiss you fiercely.

He pulls away with a teasing smirk, “That was your first fart with me, Babe. Feel proud.”

You roll your eyes, but feel the blush rising to your cheeks again, and he’s leaning back down to kiss you again.

Tonight was special. Usually when Eddie invited you to his shows it consisted of his band playing covers of they’re favorite artists and bands. Lately, they’d been feeling bold enough to start playing some of Corroded Coffin's originals.

Those were your favorites.

But tonight Eddie wanted to do something special for you.

He had made the guys practice ‘Head Over Heals’, he knew it was your favorite. He hoped you’d think this was a romantic gesture, cause he’d never play such a song for anyone else.

He was putting his metalhead dignity on the line for you.

The guys had tried to tease him about it, but he was quick to remind them that he was the only one who actually has a girlfriend and that shut them up pretty quick.

That Tuesday as he saw you sat in the record breaking crowd of 10 drunks, he felt his nerves start getting the best of him. There was a small pit in his stomach at the thought of making a fool of himself.

And when he starts playing the song that has had him worked up since he started practicing it, his eyes find yours, widened and surprised. That doesn't help his nerves much as the first words he sings are slightly high and scratchy, and he cringes to himself slightly. Pulling himself together for most of the song, but unfortunately a few more voice cracks and off tone notes were sung.

After they had finished and went backstage, he plopped himself down on the rickety couch with a loud groan.

“That was totally shit man.” Gareth said as he made his way backstage too, earning a punch to the shoulder from Jeff, big eyes signaling him to shut up. But Eddie was feeling too distraught to give a single ounce of a shit about what Gareth thought.

“I think you sounded sweet…” Grant admits, trying to make him feel better.

“Yeah, don’t listen to Gareth, he’s a dipshit.” Jeff glares over at the boy.

Eddie, only wanting to be romantic for you, but who would swoon over a nervously high pitched, scratchy rendition of their favorite song?

He lets out a groan into his hands. “Eddie…?” A soft voice causes his head to snap up. There you stood, a sweet smile on your face, and he watched the other guy scramble out of the room as you approached the couch he was sitting on.

You sat yourself down next to him, so close, your bare thigh pressed to his denim clad one. “You sang my favorite song…?” At your words he looks over to you, and your eyes somehow are able to hold the most affection that's ever been directed to him. He knew you would never judge or make fun of him for something like that, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a humbling experience for him. “I thought you said you’d never stoop so low?” You smirk.

“Yeah well, look what that got me…” He scoffs and looks straight forward, and you can tell by his tone this might be a bit more serious.

“I thought it was great…”

“I sounded like an idiot.” He looks over to you.

“No, you didn’t. I thought you sounded sweet…”

“Sweet? I sounded tone deaf.”

“Well, we both know that you aren’t, I think you were just nervous, Eddie. But, just because it was a little pitchy doesn’t mean I didn’t think it was the best thing I’ve ever heard anyone sing.”

You’re smiling so sweetly at him, and he can’t help but chuckle, “Don’t be a suck up…”

“I’m not, like really, that was the sweetest and most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. I loved it… I Love you…” You admit, feeling your own rush of nerves. It was the first time either of you had said it, but it felt fitting. He was vulnerable for you, you can be vulnerable for him.

He stares at you for a second too long, and you look away nervously, “Sorry, that was weird.” You say, but he vigorously shakes his head.

“No! No, it’s not weird… I just didn’t expect that shitty performance to pull an ‘I Love you’ from you…” He chuckles again, “I Love you too…” And he’s leaning in now, kissing your lips softly.

[tetsuskei]

⟣ tartaglia

notes: based off the fact that i am indeed a sleepy drunk, and also inspired by diluc’s lore with firewater, also childe lore. he can smell when something is done cooking?

warnings: self indulgent, childe is referred to by his birth name, russian pet names, suggestive themes, fluff

it’s always a beautiful sight to see your boyfriend, ajax, when he cooks in the kitchen.

second to the battlefield, this place is his domain. the sound of soft music plays in the background, and he’s completely in his element. the ginger moves his hips to the rhythm, swaying ever so gracefully while mumbling the lyrics to the current song under his breath. he’s always been a great dancer, so you’re not surprised. it makes you wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.

you always adore seeing him in atmospheres such as this one, especially with how much he loves to cook. his lips are pursed in concentration, a cute crinkle to his nose on display from the small frown on his face. all of his movements are skilled and dexterous. his knife abilities—albeit ignoring the fact that he’s a harbinger—are precise and quick, almost like everything he’s doing is a second thought.

it may be the alcohol you had talking, or the everlasting love you have for him—or maybe both that gets you feeling extremely soft. the urge to kiss away the expression on his face is high, but you hold back on distracting him and starting something else entirely.

and speaking of distractions, your handsome boyfriend is sporting a v-neck crew shirt and some sweatpants. much different from his sharp work attire. and although loose, the material of his clothes are still somewhat form fitting. his back muscles had been flexing every so often in a way that makes it hard to peel your eyes away. you silently curse his lean muscular self for looking so soft and domestic. just really, how shameless—

“hey! you’re supposed to be helping, not slacking off!” ajax scolds, pointing a wooden spoon at you in a chastising way. but the playful lit to his tone suggests otherwise as he cocks his head, smiling. “mila, what are you daydreaming about from over there?”

you giggle, “sorry, i’m just admiring the view.”

he hums, his smile growing. “and is the view to your liking?”

“it’s likely.” you answering padding over to him.

“i hope so. i don’t look this good for nothing.”

once in his radius, he pulls you into his side, swaying you both as he stirs the food. he quietly tells you it’s his mother’s recipe and his favorite thing to make.

“may i try some?” you ask.

wordlessly, your boyfriend holds out a spoonful for you, and you happily eat off of the utensil. the juices and flavors evade your mouth, beating the rich aroma you’ve succumbed to long ago.

you close your eyes in bliss, blinking them open happily. “wow! it’s delicious, ‘jax!”

“it’s not done yet.” he explains, humbly. “almost, but not quite.”

“okay, perfectionist.” you laugh, going back for more. “still good enough to me.”

he pushes your hand back. “you’ll spoil your appetite.” he warns, frowning.

“i promise i don’t want a lot. just a smidge more. please?” you look up at him with the biggest doe eyes you can muster, and he falters, trying to look away and focus back on what he’s doing.

as uncharacteristic as it may seem, ajax does not put up very much of a fight. not that he could ever say no to you anyways.

he sighs, “alright…fine.”

while you sit and eat (after clearly giving up on helping), your boyfriend starts to ramble about some theater performance he wants to take you to in fontaine.

“so what do you think?”

you hum quietly in response, your cheek on your hand. “mmh that sounds nice…”

ajax glances over at you, concerned. you had grown awfully quiet.

“are you alright?” he asks, inspecting the rest of you for any strange signs. “we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“i want to, yes!” your thoughts are jumbled. “and m’fine. why?” you add to reassure him, “just tired.”

‘tired? you were fine just fifteen minutes ago. so full of energy, actually’ he thinks, watching the way your eyes are suddenly drooping.

“well don’t worry, i’m almost done.” ajax assures.

“hey. did you put this in the food?” you hold up the open bottle of white wine, and some of the contents spill out. however, your boyfriend is quick to grab it once seeing how you’re swaying.

suddenly it all clicks in his brain. “ahh, i might’ve put in too much.” he chuckles, now noting the smell of the food a little bit different than usual. stronger and sharper like the wine. “that explains things. plus the firewater we had from earlier.” he recalls you taking an impressive amount of shots, trying to out beat him.

“didn’t you once say something about sharing firewater with someone in the cold makes them trustworthy? i’ve done half the battle!” you say with pride, albeit wobbling a little. “let’s go sit outside later! we’ll see who freezes first!”

ajax stares at you in awe before laughing—loudly.

“milaya, you always surprise me with just how cute you can be.” he pinches your cheeks before moving his hand to your lower back, steering you towards the couch. “now come on, sit down. you’re going to fall over at this rate.”

“‘kay.” you mumble, letting him guide you. you don’t really feel yourself moving until the plush cushion under you meets your bottom.

“i’m just going to clean up and i’ll be right back. i promise.” he reassures, squeezing your hand before releasing it.

you jump back up eagerly, “i’ll help!”

“no, you’ll stay here.” he pushes you back down gently before standing up himself. there’s a stern look on his face as he says, “you’ve had too much to drink. that’s my fault.”

a small huff leaves your mouth and you pout. your eyes start to water. “then…at least sit with me!”

“the kitchen has to be cleaned up, lisichka.” he reminds gently.

your eyes grow wetter. “the kitchen is more important than me?”

he gives you a look. “nothing could ever be more important than you. you know that.”

“then…you’ll stay. it is your fault after all.”

he laughs, scratching the back of his head, “alright then. but only for a little bit.”

the minute he sits down, you promptly slide yourself onto his lap, wordlessly making yourself comfortable.

“oh? what’s this?” his heart swells. you’re usually too shy to initiate something like this, often leading him to pulling you onto him.

there’s a confused look on your face. “you said to sit down and stay here, so i’m doing that.” you blink slowly, head tilting. “did i sit wrong?”

“no, of course not.” he answers, kissing your forehead. thankfully you’re too out of it to tease him, or he’d never hear the end of it.

he shifts you so your legs straddle his lap. your face is buried in his neck, breathing in the smell of his aftershave and the pinewood scent of him. one hand reaches up towards his soft locks and mindlessly plays with it.

ajax feels his entire being burning with exhilaration. while he knows how to handle his alcohol way better than you do, he is not immune to your touches. he could get intoxicated and drunk on any little thing you do.

a satisfied exhale leaves the man and he closes his eyes for moment, his nose nuzzling your cheek. the feeling of your warm palms sliding across his face pull him out of the moment before your eyes meet.

you hum, staring at him closely. “have your eyes always looked like this?” you ask.

he blinks. “like what? and why?”

“they’re so blue. i’ve never seen eyes like yours before.”

“no, they haven’t.” he answers honestly. he tries to avert his attention away from you, but your hands grab his face again.

“they’re so pretty…like the ocean…” you breathe, now poking at his freckles. “you’re so pretty…”

the man is pretty sure he’s blushing right now when you speak, rambling and comparing him like the sea. of the comforting warmth and unpredictability of the weather, all comparable to his nature—which you love.

you must be trying to kill him, because what he doesn’t expect next is for you to kiss him on the nose, and then his cheeks.

by the time he’s chasing your lips with his own, you’re pulling back, giggling quietly.

“hey, you can’t just tease like that—“ you slump against him, and he freezes, eyes widening.

“milaya?”

“…”

pulling your face back from his chest, he notes that you’ve passed out.

ajax tugs you tight in his hold, tucking your face in the crook of his neck. the smell of your hair makes his heart grow even bigger and fonder.

“by the tsaritsa, my cute girlfriend can’t hold her alcohol well,” he laughs to himself, absently tracing shapes into your lower back, “i’m sure glad this happened at home, or god knows what would happen out in public.”

he doesn’t really know if he’d be more worried about your own safety, or the things he’d do if someone dared to take advantage of you.

either way, his endless vow to protect you couldn’t be broken anyway anyhow. not even in death. he’d be loyal to you for a thousand life times.

bonus:

waking up groggily, you rub your eyes, shield them from from the unavoidable brightness of the sun.

while warm light hits your face, it only makes you feel hot and cold all at the same time. a feeling that should be welcoming only suffocates you instead as an ache converges the nerve points in your head.

“rise and shine sleeping beauty.”

you turn limply, eyes widening at the sight of ajax standing in the doorway.

“i was really hoping on you waking up soon.” he says pushing the door open further. he holds a tray of food in his hands. padding over to you he nods to the water and ibuprofen on the bedside table. “once you eat some, you should really take that.”

maybe its the sleep in your eyes or the fact that you’re not fully awake yet, but you tear up. “you’re always taking care of me.”

“yep, that is my job.” he places the food down, leaning over to kiss away any stray tears.

“thank you.”

he clicks his tongue. “what did i tell you about thanking me for things like this?”

you roll your eyes. such a stubborn man.

you quietly tell him that your brain is foggy, and while you partially don’t want to know, wish that he recall what last happened when you were awake.

“you should’ve seen how cute you were while drunk. i don’t think i could ever forget it.” he laughs once he’s done recapping.

blood rushes to your cheeks, your face aflame. “i’m not going to be able to live this down, am i?”

ajax laughs again, “don’t think so! although, being passed out for pretty much the whole day is alarming, so i don’t think we will be letting you near any alcohol anytime soon.”

your shoulders droop, “i guess that’s fair…”

“don’t be so sad! here, let me feed you!” he moves behind you, sitting down on the bed so his legs are on either side of you. his chest presses into your backside as he reaches for the food.

“‘jax i can feed myself just fine.” you say, going for the spoon, but his reflexes are faster.

“please?” he looks down at you, hoping his ocean hues favor him.

you sigh. “fine.”

the two of you sit in comfortable silence as he feeds you, and you being hungrier than you realize, finish everything quickly.

“i almost forgot! you owe me something.” he says coyly.

you frown, “huh?”

“after all that teasing yesterday…you left me high and dry…” he sniffs.

you blink, and suddenly it’s clear what he’s insinuating. “a kiss?”

“so you remember?” he asks.

you shrug, “just barely…”

“well, now that you’re aware—“ he scoots towards you, knees bumping your own before he’s pulling you towards him.

a yelp leaves you. “b-but i just ate food! and…and i need to brush my teeth!” you protest, but he’s still hovering close over you.

“so?”

there’s no use, because the minute you open your mouth to reply, ajax swoops down, kissing you wordlessly and hungrily. his tongue brief swipes over yours before he soon pulls back.

there’s a mild grimace on his face, “yeah, go brush your teeth.”

you shove him back on the bed, making him holler with laughter, “i told you!”

“it was still worth it, mila!” he shouts after you.

“fuck you.” you spit.

“with pleasure.” he smiles.

notes: my mom added too much white wine to food she made, so she’s the running inspiration for this. shout out to her!

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

-----

The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter. 

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway. 

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence. 

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan. 

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life. 

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together. 

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you. 

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes. 

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk. 

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop. 

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked. 

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in. 

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.” 

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.” 

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day. 

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually. 

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid. 

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did. 

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.” 

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner. 

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude. 

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.” 

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked. 

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” 

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.” 

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?” 

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word. 

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his. 

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.” 

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of. 

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked. 

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked. 

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.” 

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot. 

God, you were down bad. 

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face. 

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed. 

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible. 

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little. 

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting. 

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual. 

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken. 

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.” 

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?” 

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger. 

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision. 

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.” 

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm. 

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed. 

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece. 

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice. 

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!” 

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his. 

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive. 

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless. 

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

——

read part 2 here

[silentmagnolias]

Uninvited

Choso

Wc. 2501.

Summary: Sweet, utterly down bad Choso finds a pair of your panties falling out of your tote bag that you’d left in the bathroom floor of his apartment. What happens when you return unexpectedly to find him in the most compromising of positions?

Cw. Panty sniffing, masturbation.

“Ah, fuck I forgot my bag up at your place.,” you whined and cursed a little at the realization you’d left your bag—with your phone and clothes up the at the apartment Choso and Yuji shared.

Yuji snorted in response and Megumi raised a brow at your forgetfulness. You’d spent the majority of the summer with the trio (and occasionally, Yuji’s older brother, Choso) beating the heat in the complex’s ample swimming pool or galavanting around Tokyo on days you all weren’t on missions. Being an older, more experienced grade-one sorcerer, the trio had kind of unofficially adopted you as a mentor-turned-friend.

“I’m positive you’re going to have dementia by the time you’re 35.” Yuji joked from his place in the pool, attempting to swim on his back, earning a swift flick to the Adam’s apple from Nobara.

“You’re one to talk, you dunce.” She spat and Yuji instantly choked, righting himself in the water to throw her a petulant glare and rub a hand over the sore spot where she’d flicked him. You shook your head at the resulting banter that broke out between the two and snorted at the ‘please-god-make-it-stop’ glance Megumi threw in your direction. You snagged Yuji’s beach towel from the off-white deck chair and wrapped it around your middle, giving Megumi a sympathetic mock salute.

“I’ll be back!” You called over your shoulder and set off toward the apartment to grab your bag— and hopefully sneak a bite of whatever Choso had been cooking whenever you’d arrived earlier.

══════════════════

From the moment you had left to the pool with the younger sorcerers, Choso’s mind was on you, wandering to the way you’d stood so closely to him in the kitchen when you’d first greeted him— like you always did when you’d visit. You looked out for his little brother after all, so naturally he’d like you too. Maybe more than like. It was a warm, pleasant closeness that bloomed slowly over time, always casual. Always sweet. As he finished up in the kitchen, he allowed himself to think of something he’d shamelessly found himself indulging in as of late when he was alone.

A vision of domestic bliss— a sweet thought of you in the kitchen with him, wearing one of his T-shirts helping him learn to bake some horrendously sinful American recipe you liked to talk about.

Biscuits? Yeah, those.

Those are good. His eyes glazed over as he could practically see you in his T-shirt, smiling sweetly like you always did and talking to him as you sat on the countertop. He knew he was in trouble but he knew better than to jeopardize the friendship you’d built together. So he allowed himself to just stand there, head cocked to the side with his eyes glazed over, daydreaming of the things you’d talk about together sitting on that countertop.

He was so lost his reverie, he’d almost let the soup he had simmering boil over, but he fumbled and caught it just in time before turning the burner off and setting the pot to the side. He figured everyone would be up soon anyway, so might as well leave it out anyway.

His thoughts wandered once more to the way his T-shirt would probably hit just at the middle of your thighs and would ride up revealing the faintest slivers of the plushest parts of your upper thighs. He shivered at the thought.

God, he loved your thighs. Especially the way they looked in that bikini earlier... He cursed himself slightly for being too shy to join you at the pool but he couldn’t risk…. That happening. His gaze traveled down to the way his cock hung heavy in his pants, half hard already just thinking about your thighs. Thinking of the way they’d feel beneath the palms of his hands. The way the tops of them would pleasantly squish and give with every firm squeeze of his hand.

He swallowed thickly at the thought.

That was one physical aspect of his humanity he held immense disdain for. He felt pathetic popping a boner at the mere thought of your body and what made it worse, is lately it had become something that would be impossible to ignore until he relieved himself. Often, the nights you visited ended that way, with him in his bedroom whining and fucking his hand until he made the biggest mess of himself.

But even that wasn’t relieving. No.

No.

He needed more— something To make himself feel better.

How frustrating.

With a shaky sigh, he made his way to the restroom to grab the new bottle of lotion he’d purchased just for this purpose only to stop in his tracks at the sight of your tote bag on the floor. Your tote bag that had your clothes haphazardly falling out of the bag— including a pair of skimpy grey, rib knit panties.

Oh.

Choso’s breath quickened at the litany of impure, very human thoughts running through his mind coupled with an undertone of deep shame that almost made him leave the bathroom and opt to jack himself off with spit instead.

It wouldn’t hurt to just look, right? To feel them..

His hands twitched at his sides in the open doorway of the bathroom as he contemplated his actions.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering as he stared at the skimpy fabric of your panties— how you smelled there. He loved your scent, always lingering for an extra moment when you’d hug him just to breathe deeply and relish the soapy, vanilla vibe you filled his nose with—The smell of you permeating his soul when you were near. That had to be nirvana.

He gulped down the remainder of his trepidation and decidedly stepped inside the bathroom, shutting the door in a hurry and sitting himself down on the closed lid of the commode.

He reached down gingerly to grab the ruddy old tote bag and carefully sifted through its contents as if he were performing the most delicate task. He pulled out your T shirt and instantly brought the soft cotton to his nose, inhaling deeply, a low rumble of pleasure emanating deep from within his chest.

The smell of you was like an instant balm to his nerves, drowning out remaining apprehension he had in his mind. He could always wash everything, making sure you came back up from the pool to a warm meal and fresh-out-the-dryer clothes.

He inhaled greedily again, his cock now aching and his heart bounding in his chest from the excitement of the situation. He’d never done anything like this before.. but you smelled so good.

Eager for more, and more than a little high from his actions, he reached straight for what he’d really been curious about— the panties. They were surprisingly light and soft between his fingers, the lace trim and rib knit material providing deliciously contrasting sensations against his fingertips. He let out a shuddering breath as he held them up, inspecting them, taking in and imagining the thought of them snug against your hips and ample bottom. Against the space between your legs. It was enough to make his mouth water.

Without thinking about any further, he brought the material to his nose to inhale and he was most definitely not disappointed. His eyes rolled back in his head at the musky, heady scent of you that enveloped him. This felt like an entirely different level of wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. He was curious and completely down bad for you, that he couldn’t deny.

His breath came in gasps as he practically jerked his pants down to free his rigid cock from the fabric’s confines. He was already practically oozing pre-come from his flushed tip and his hips twitched and rolled of their own accord from excitement, a broken rhythm that demanded him give into his desire. So he did.

Choso bargained with himself that he’d do what he needed to do and rush everything straight to the washer so that you’d have fresh, warm clothes waiting for you by the time you got back. You’d be none the wiser.

Hopefully.

He spit quickly into the palm of his hand, wanting to waste no time and wrapped his hand around his cock to give himself what he craved. He set the pace, rotating his wrist in a way he knew would bring him to the heights he wanted to reach and crushed your panties against his nose once more, groaning low in his chest as the scent of you overtook him.

Something about adding the smell between your legs to this shameful little routine of his made him feel like a complete mess in no time at all. He was filthy for this but he didn’t care. He wanted, no, needed you in any way he could have you.

Your scent pushed him forward in an almost animalistic way, driving the tension in his belly to an almost unbearable level. He never knew he could feel this good by simply smelling you while he did this..

Choso fucked up into his hand aggressively with nothing but you on his mind, his toned abdominals flexing with exertion as he chased his high. He let his head fall back, still holding the fabric of your panties to his nose like a man possessed. His jaw had fallen slack now and a series of desperate, pathetic whimpers fell from his lips as he greedily inhaled you, committing your scent deep into his memory.

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

But so, so close.

A part of him was ready to get this over with, just so he could be in the clear from potentially getting caught so he could wallow in shame in peace but another part of him.. another sick, twisted part of him wanted this moment to never end. He wanted to feel good and he wanted YOU to be what made him feel good— even if this was all he could get.

Choso’s chest heaved and his cock leaked with every bounding pulse of his excitement. The pleasure was building white-hot deep in his belly in a way that was almost overstimulating.. but he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

So close.

In a split second moment of filthy desperation and bid for closeness he’d likely never get, he brought his other hand— and your panties down to wrap around the aching head of his cock. A dark splotch quickly bloomed against the grey fabric from where he practically dripped and he pulled his bottom lip through his teeth imagining himself making a mess of those pretty panties while you wore them. Yes. That’s what he wanted. He imagined your eyes heavy lidded and you staring down at him, whispering the filthiest things to him as he jerked off against your clothed cunt. He envisioned your hands touching him instead of his, the way your delicate little fingers would wrap around him. If only..

The tension continued to mount until it was unbearable and his breath came in ragged gasps. He almost missed the sound of the front door to the apartment opening and the hurried footsteps that stopped in front of the bathroom door.

Almost.

But he was too far gone to stop himself— with one more heave of his chest and jerk of his hips, Choso’s orgasm barreled through him with an intensity unlike anything he’d ever experienced and he was lost. Ruined.

It was euphoric.

His eyes rolled back and his cock filled your panties (and his hand) with an inhuman amount of sticky cum. Just when he’d think it was over, another thick, pearlescent spurt oozed into the ruined fabric of your panties. He bucked into his hand a few more times in a bid to prolong things, carrying himself through the remaining haze completely oblivious for a split second to the wide eyes that now watched from the open door.

You stood there utterly speechless at the sight before you when you’d opened the door. Your throat went dry as you studied the way Choso’s hips bucked out the remainder of his orgasm against his hands, the flex of his biceps and abs, the way his head was tilted back and his face contorted into something utterly sinful. The way your panties were now bathed in the most obscene amount of cum you’d ever laid eyes on— panties you’d been wearing just an hour before.

It was a few seconds that felt as if they’d stretched an entire eternity. A moment that left you feeling as if you were under water, unable to breathe. If Choso had felt that way about you, he’d never made any indication— sure, he was warm toward you, but Choso was that way with everyone he allowed into his inner circle. Ever enigmatic he was, no-nonsense a fair majority of the time in every day life, sprinkled in with that unmistakable softness and warmth in private. He’d always welcomed you into his home and had become someone you confided in. He was easy to talk to.

Choso’s eyes fluttered open and locked onto yours, having finally taken notice of you and his stomach instantly dropped at the sight of you in the doorway. He started to say something, to protest but you shut the door before he could call your name, effectively cutting him off. You stood there for a moment wondering what the fuck you had just hallucinated— it had to have been a hallucination, right?

Right?

You opened the door again to confirm that you had not been hallucinating. He was still there, your come-soaked panties still in hand staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

Of all the things you’d walked in on Choso doing, it had to be this. It wasn’t like you could judge though— in some sick way, you actually kind of understood.

It wasn’t like you weren’t similar or anything, after all. Like you hadn’t hoarded the one T-shirt he’d let you borrow months ago beside your pillow to sniff every night because he just smelled that fucking good. An intoxicating mix of soft earthiness, clean skin and something unmistakably sharp.

Okay, so maybe you really understood. Fuck.

You were interrupted from your brief inner monologue by the sound of Choso’s voice tentatively calling out your name. His cock had softened enough to be partially obscured by your panties, but the copious mess remained and stood out more against the fabric and his fair skin now that his cock wasn’t at attention. In any other circumstance, you’d be impressed with the sheer amount of cum that could come from one man, but all you could think of in the moment was the fact that Choso— your friend had pleasured himself with your panties.

“I’ll wash them. I’m sorry. I— I couldn’t. I just. I—.” He started trying to explain himself but you shook your head in response, effectively shutting him up again.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” You finally managed hoarsely after a few moments of careful consideration, trying with all your might to keep your eyes on his and not the mess between his legs. You opened your mouth to speak again when you were jolted by the sound of the front door abruptly opening and Yuji’s voice calling out your name.

In a split second decision you stepped inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. Choso looked like he was about to short circuit, sitting there wide eyed thinking of where he’d even begin trying to explain this to Yuji..

“Of course..” You hissed under your breath, knowing that there was only one thing to do. You weren’t about to let Choso be found in such a compromising position (and you weren’t about to throw him under the bus either) so you turned to him and put a finger to your lips, a silent request to keep quiet.

“I’m in here! My stomach hurts…” you called out and flicked the bathroom fan on in hopes of muffling any extra noise that may give the two of you away. You back up slightly away from the door and immediately recoil when you step in something wet, your expression screwing up into one of silent panic when you realized what it was.

What a fucking situation to be caught in.

Part 2??

[hisui-dreamer]

definitely not prophetic!

Character: Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond, Trey Clover, Leona Kingscholar, Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt, Lilia Vanrouge, Malleus Draconia

pick one of your favs from above when reading!

Masterlist

imagine having dreams of him every night, each time showcasing him with you, perfectly in love in different scenarios. sometimes you're on vacation and you're exploring some new place, sometimes you're waking up in his embrace as sunlight peeks through the window, and on the rare occasion, you hear bell-like laughter from children running up to you, dragging him along by pulling at his hand, the very picture of domestic bliss

you're not sure what to make of these dreams, you don't even know him that well, having met him just a few weeks ago, and now you're having these dreams about him? what if they were prophetic dreams? no, no, you shouldn't think that way, you don't even have any feelings towards him, so isn't saying they're prophetic dreams too much of a stretch? it almost sounds like you want it to become reality! there's no proof any of these visions are set to happen! you still want to go home after all!

home. that's right, you should be going home. that's your utmost priority, and if anything you should be avoiding the person who keeps appearing in your dreams, juust in case they are prophetic dreams which they are not because he'll keep you tied to twisted wonderland.

only if you keep avoiding a person who has never once interacted with you, you'll only intrigue them more. he didn't mind the fact at all, but as he's observing you from the window, joking around with all your other friends that you have obviously not avoided, he feels a smidge of hurt and maybe even jealously.

he's hearing all this praise about what a nice person you are, how willing you are to help others and talk to other people, meanwhile your attitude towards him is a complete 180; avoiding his gaze when he's trying to speak with you, running off with some random excuse of an errand, or even straight up turning away the moment you locked eyes with him! isn't this a little bit too cruel?

meanwhile, you can't say your feelings for him are entirely hostile. it'd be too difficult to hate a person who always smiles so endearingly at you, who holds you like you mean the entire world to them, whose laugh always washes away any trace of fatigue in you. you're cursing yourself for being so easily swayed by these dreams, but thankfully this motivates you to further limit your interactions with him.

this, of course, does not go unnoticed by him. and to say he's upset is the understatement of the century. what has he done to provoke you this time?! he's only tried to be nice to you, make good conversation, sevens, he's even tried to bribe you with your favourite food that he overheard you mention!

ok, he's having none of this avoiding, at the very least he demands an explanation as to why you act so strangely only around him.

he seizes the opportunity when it comes, a hand next to your head, pinning you against the stone wall in a silent hallway. his narrowed eyes peer into yours, and you can't help but get lost in the clarity that often eludes you in your dreams. his eyes glisten with a captivating sparkle, framed by delicate eyelashes, and you can almost imagine his voice murmuring sweet nothings to you as he showers you in affection...

no, no, no! this is exactly why you're avoiding him!!

you feel your face heat up so much so that it feels like a blazing furnace, radiating so intensely that it sparks a whirlwind of dizziness within you. you avert your gaze to the ground and you try to get out of this situation, but he's not having any of it.

he tilts your chin upwards so you'll face him once again, his touch gentle and familiar just like the ones in your dreams, and he's granted the sight of you, blushing and flustered and so so overwhelmed and-

...oh?

did... did his heart just skip a beat?

[nvirskies]

sand - c. la rue

idea taken from one of @star-girl69 's asks about married clarisse and immediately went to think about how the vast majority of greek demigods didn't get to live past their 20's or even teen years... and the survivor's guilt that would come with being one of the few lucky enough to live longer.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, traumatic nightmare flashbacks, descriptions of violence, descriptions of blood + war, spoilers for TLO, set after both reader and clarisse leave CHB about 6-8 years into the future, google translated Greek term of endearment, crying, survivor's guilt, platonic RueGard, ooc Clarisse, she's matured more over time and more articulate with her feelings and words

summary: clarisse wakes up from a particularly bad nightmare in the middle of the night, reader comforts her through a breakdown

wife!fem!demigod!reader x wife!clarisse la rue

word count: 2.2k

καρδιά μου (kardiá mou) - my heart

Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου (I kardiá mou eínai i kardiá sou) - my heart is your heart

"but you have more pieces of me than than desert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand" sand, alchemical: vol. 1, dove cameron

taglist: @lvrue @star-girl69 @azrielsdiary @petitegavotte @b0ok-lover

men, nsfw, non-sapphic, 16-/19+ dni

Greek demigods fell in love hard and fast with an unmatched intensity. They normally didn’t live long enough to even envision themselves in their adult lives, and why would they? Every day was a struggle to stay alive with monsters coming in from all angles and quests most didn’t come back from.

And that was why, as soon as the two of you graduated high school, Clarisse got down on a knee and proposed with the knowledge that you were the one she would want to spend the rest of her life, however long or short, with.

When you two had graduated college, the next thing in the books was to make it official in the courthouse, and that was what you had done. No extravagant party or ceremony, just a quiet day in the courthouse and a night in to celebrate.

But no matter how far the two of you ran from Camp Half-Blood, the nightmares never went away, never got better. As the years passed, more of the people you had considered friends died. One after the other, falling like cursed dominos, helplessly standing by as they all tumbled down.

Soon, the nightmares became more about the people that were lost than the monsters themselves. Nightly plagues of searingly painful memories from watching the life drain from so many demigods’ eyes burned themselves in both of your psyches.

All you could do was hope Charon would be kind enough to ferry them across the Styx without his payment of a silver coin.

And tonight certainly hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary with the two of you and your limbs interlaced in a protective embrace while sleep claimed your minds, as if the both of you could protect each other from the monsters both in and outside.

Your head, nestled into her chest. Her deep, rhythmic breathing made your hair flutter ever so slightly as she exhaled. Her arms, wrapped loosely around your waist, hands not-so-sneakily under the baggy shirt of hers you had stolen to wear as pajamas for the night. It was all perfect. Too perfect.

You would be damned fools to think that peace would last for so long. Demigods didn’t get peace, they didn’t get tranquility, and they especially didn’t get uninterrupted domestic bliss.

Unbeknownst to you, Clarisse’s face contorted into one of distress. Her arms pulled you in closer subconsciously as the all too familiar face of Morpheus greeted her with a sly smirk on his face in her dreams.

In moments, she was transported back to the Battle of Manhattan.

She was seventeen again.

Blood was everywhere. Abandoned weapons lay on the floor, the hands that once gripped them tightly, now loose and limp. Shrill screams echoed throughout the air, all cut short by gut-wrenching sounds of fatal injury. Metal cut through flesh. Acid burnt through metal. Flames licked and greedily consumed anything and everything as fuel.

Her feet felt heavy, her hands numb. She could do nothing but stand and watch it all unfold before her own eyes, forced to relive the carnage and devastation that had ripped through Manhattan on that fateful day.

Morpheus’ voice whispered in her right ear, the sound of it sending an uneasy chill down her spine. “Daughter of Ares. A fitting dream, no? Your father must have been proud of you for the way you fought after… well, I’ll let you relive that, too.” Before she could blink, she was transported to the moment right after Silena had been sprayed by the Lydian Drakon.

Clarisse was too late. She had always been too late.

She was back on her knees, choking and weeping bitterly as Silena lay in her arms, watching as life slowly left her once-lively eyes.

What kind of a warrior even was she? So weak that she couldn’t even protect her friend? Too weak to protect the girl who had adorned her armor and led her siblings into battle?

Just as Clarisse reached out to touch Silena’s face to wipe away the one mark of smudged eyeliner that the Aphrodite girl normally would never have even allowed to happen in the past, she was jerked back to consciousness, eyes flying open and arms almost crushing your sleeping form momentarily as she came to.

No longer was she in Manhattan, instead sheltered in the familiarly adorned walls of your shared bedroom. Upon the walls hung framed pictures of joyous times past and her sword collection, among other things.

Familiar faces stared back at her, some faces that would never age again. Immortalized memories of times that would never happen again. Everyone was dead or scattered across the globe.

A particular picture caught Clarisse’s eye. It was a portrait of Silena that she had commissioned one of the Apollo kids to draw for the daughter of Aphrodite’s seventeenth birthday.

She never lived to see that day.

Her eyes locked with Silena’s in the drawing for a moment, and that moment was one too much as hot tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes.

She had inadvertently woken you up with the way her arms tightened around your waist in a near vice grip, slowly coming to your senses. No longer were her breaths slow and rhythmic, their steadfast pattern replaced by one that was erratic and shallow. The once-steady thumping cadence of her heart as it beat in her chest was now quickened, all of which you could hear with your head having been nestled into her chest.

Craning your head to look up at her, you were greeted with the sight of Clarisse desperately trying to silently blink back tears and control her own breathing.

Hurriedly, you pushed yourself up off her chest and tugged the blankets off the two of you before sitting down on her lap. You took note of the way her hands had never left your waist, holding onto you as if she were drowning and you were the last life ring thrown out.

It wasn’t anything you and Clarisse hadn’t dealt with before. The nightmares had been a part of your lives as far back as you could remember, it just came with the territory of being a demigod. But they never got any easier as time went on.

She watched silently with eyes brimming with unshed tears, pleading wordlessly with you to do something, anything to make it all go away.

“Let’s switch, yeah? You can lay on me and completely cover me if you want, love,” you offered up, a melancholy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Wordlessly, she nodded and you slipped off her lap, laying back where she had just been moments ago.

Gently patting your chest, you motioned for her to rest her head on it, knowing that the rest of her body would soon follow, completely engulfing your form with hers. After she had positioned herself, her arms snaked around your waist again as she simply held you for a few moments, her face pressed into your chest as tears slowly soaked into your shirt.

One hand reached out to gently run along the length of her back, the motion meant to soothe. A few beats passed in silence before you spoke in a hushed whisper, the bedroom devoid of sound beyond the two of you breathing in tandem with each other.

“You hear that, love? That’s my heart,” you murmured softly, craning your neck to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “It’s beating, beating for you. Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου.”

She didn’t respond beyond releasing another shaky sob into your chest and tightening her grip around your body, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t need her to talk just yet.

“You’re also η καρδιά μου, you know that, right? My heart, my wife, my love, my everything. And I’m yours. Entirely yours, and I”m not going anywhere.” You craned your neck again to press another kiss against the crown of her head, hand never stopping its path of running gently along the length of her back.

“I would go down to the depths of Tartarus for you. I would challenge Hades himself to a fight if it meant I had even a glimmer of a chance in getting you back.”

Never once did you try to rush her into talking or shushing her tears. You knew her better than you knew yourself, and giving her time to let everything out was the best thing you could do for her at the moment.

You were her safe space, the one woman that she could let her walls down around. She wasn’t Ares’ star daughter in your arms, she was just Clarisse. No expectations dangling over her head, just open arms and understanding.

After another few quiet moments, she finally spoke up in between half-choked sobs, whispering so quietly that her voice was nearly inaudible, “Silena… Manhattan… should have been able to save her,” before letting her face fall back down onto your chest, releasing another pained cry.

“She’s gone- a-and everyone else too- why me?”

Her question left you speechless, mouth partly opened in an attempt to come up with a reassuring response, but nothing seemed to come to mind immediately. It was rare for this to happen, as you normally had just the right words at the top of your tongue, weaving them as Arachne once wove tapestries on her loom.

“They’re all gone and- and- ”

“Shh, love…” you cut her off, gently pulling her head up to look her in the eyes, your other hand leaving her back to wipe the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks with the pad of your thumb. “Please, don’t go back into that self-sacrificial spiral. Talk to me, tell me what the dream was about?”

She only shook her head in response, unwilling to divulge details of the memory that had shattered your night of otherwise perfect proportions.

Deflating back on top of you, she whispered, “They’re all gone, and we’re one of the only ones remaining. It was like every time another one of them died, that small part of myself that I gave to them died as well.”

Her arms that were wrapped around your waist tightened for a moment before going limp along with the rest of her body as she lay atop you, her head pressed against your chest.

“Love…” you began softly as one of your hands found its way to her head and carded gently through her curls. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. None of it was your fault. We didn’t ask to be born, to be thrown into this mess of a world and tossed around like pawns in the gods’ game of chess with our lives.”

“We didn’t ask for this life, and we were so young at the time. For fuck’s sake, we were only seventeen- we hadn’t even made out yet. We hadn’t graduated high school yet, there were so many things we couldn’t control.

“None of it was your fault, I promise you. You were so brave, and you did everything you could.” She stayed silent as you spoke, the only sounds coming from her were the soft, shaky breaths as she sniffled and burrowed her face further into your shirt.

“I can’t explain to you why so many things had to happen, that’s up to the Fates. I can’t give you the pieces of yourself back that you lost when we kept losing everyone,” you murmured whilst your hands kept on with their idle motions.

It shattered your heart to give her such an incomplete answer when you knew it was tearing her apart inside to live with it all, but there was nothing you could do beyond offer solace and comfort. “And for that, I am so, so sorry. But the one thing I can do is keep the piece you’ve granted me to keep, safe and sound.”

She only nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak in fear of her own vulnerability. Her tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn’t care. All that was important was that Clarisse was here, in your arms, and slowly calming down.

Clarisse knew just as well as you did that everyone had done the best they could with the circumstances given, and that the loss affected you just as deeply. But she didn’t dig into that, it would be a can of worms to open for another time, another sleepless night where your own troubles caught up with you after running from them for so long.

And so, the rest of the night stretched on into early morning, the two of you half-awake, seeking silent solace in each other until sunlight crept into the bedroom through the cracks of the curtains the next day.

The two of you might have been running from your trauma like runners to a marathon, but at least you were running hand-in-hand with matching strides.

[totheblood]

superposition. (two)

pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader

summary: ellie gives you lesson number two and you get an A on your test! yay.

warnings: 18+, SMUT, cursing, alcohol/drug mention, suggestive themes... cheating if u squint... the ai audios for this one is?????? just don't listen to it around people pls

a/n: smut is so not my strong suit but like... i tried!! please know i'd love feed back and all reblogs and replies and asks are welcomed and encouraged... i love u all so bad i hope u like this.. ai audios at the end are again... steamy?

read part one to this fic here!

"why dont we collide the spaces that divide us?"

You think your first date was a success.

Malia, your date, did everything right. She held open the door for you, made you laugh, and walked you home with your hand in hers. Her hands were soft, contrasting Ellie’s calloused fingers and dry hands, and by the end of the walk they had grown clammy. She smelled like coconut milk and pink pepper, and her ginger hair stretched passed her shoulders. When she spoke her tone was gentle, her words almost sickly sweet as they fell from her lips. On paper she was perfect.

But as the two of you approached your apartment building and her cherry-flavored lips met yours, it wasn’t like you had imagined. You were unsure if you sitting in Ellie’s lap earlier that night had anything to do with the sour taste left in your mouth as you gave her another kiss goodnight, but it certainly wasn’t helping.

“We should do this again.” Malia practically shouted as you walked up the stairs to your building's entrance. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“We should,” An odd feeling settled in your chest. “Text me, yeah?”

“Okay, I will.” Her smile held warmth in it, her cheeks growing red. It was obvious she was really into the date and while your chest swelled with pride, it also didn’t swell with the same affection she was harboring. A part of you assumed that love didn’t happen gradually and that your feelings would only grow as time went on, but you couldn’t be sure of that at this moment. All you knew was that she was practically perfect, but she wasn’t Ellie.

The whole night all you could think about was the fact that everything she did was the complete opposite of what Ellie would do. Your whole brain felt muddy as you searched around in your bag for keys wondering why you suddenly felt the need to compare your date to your best friend. It would never work out between you and Ellie anyways… right?

It wasn’t like you hadn’t found Ellie attractive when you first met her, but you were inexperienced and way too shy to flirt with her. As a result, the friend zone became a permanent place for you and Ellie. There was a comfortable haze that settled in the air when you were with her and it was a growing fear of yours that something could jeopardize it, and knowing Ellie that was entirely plausible. 

You wouldn’t go to the lengths of saying that Ellie was a ‘fuck boy’ but it was clear she got around. On many different occasions, you had let yourself into her apartment and been met with varying girls, all of whom Ellie claimed she would never call back. You had to actively ignore the disappointment you felt each time you interrupted her with someone, and the anxiety at your throat when she claimed she was already over them. You knew Ellie would never abandon you like that, but it was still a possibility.

Whatever feelings you had when you first met her, however, were now shoved down into a deep place in your brain that was threatening to come to the surface again. You didn’t want her to be anything but ‘your Ellie’ and you desperately wanted to remain ‘her petal’. At this moment there was nothing more important to you than keeping the small semblance of domestic bliss that you had with her.

As you hung up your bag and began to take off your coat you felt your phone vibrate in the pocket. It was almost perfect timing from Ellie seeing as you would have spent the entire night searching for your phone and thinking Malia had robbed you. 

E: How’s the date going? Or how did it go? 

E: Unsure of my timing rn.

Y: it WENT well… she was cute

E: Did you use any of my techniques?

Y: no nothing happened, we just kissed goodnight and then she left

Y: plus you didn’t teach me any techniques you just made out with me

Y: hoping that was free lesson cause idk if i can afford the ellie williams tuition

E: That’s boring.

E: No action? I mean it’s Friday night.

E: It’s always gonna be free for you, Petal.

Y:  no action :( 

E: Poor baby. 

E: We should fix that.

E: Want me to come over? We can smoke and you can tell me all about this very boring date.

Y: IT WASN’T BORING STOP THAT

Y: and yes, my answer is always going to be yes to smoking with u

E: When you got so high that one time and bit me…

E: Don’t bite me again.

E: Wait actually…

Y: perv

E: Shut up.

You got undressed and changed into the same outfit that you slept in every night, an old t-shirt and grey sweatshirts. For a moment you contemplated not taking off your makeup, wanting to look nice for Ellie, but your need for comfort won you over this time. It wasn’t too long later that Ellie was making her way into your apartment and placing her backpack down on the floor. You moved to stand in the doorframe of your bedroom shooting a pointed look at Ellie.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” She removed her coat and threw it over the couch revealing her own casual outfit underneath: A loose t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Fuck, she looked good in those swea-

 “You should really knock, Ellie,” This same lecture had poured from your mouth every time she did this, but she never stopped. Truth be told, Ellie liked the idea of coming home to you, just letting herself in and setting her shit down as she had just done. It was a small act in the large umbrella of romantically ambiguous things the two of you had gotten used to doing.

If Ellie was being honest with herself she would finally admit that whatever relationship the two of you had always bordered on the verge of no longer being platonic. She would just find herself doing things for you that she would never do for anyone else. She always let you smoke for free, voted on whatever movie you wanted to watch during movie night just to see you smile, and she was doing shit like she had done tonight. 

The minute you left for your date Ellie was glued to her phone, patiently waiting for you to tell her the date went to shit and that you needed her to come over and light up with you. As the night went on Ellie found herself anxiously bouncing her leg and obsessively checking your location. She was supposed to be working tonight, but instead, she was cyberstalking her best friend who was on a date. This time it was her turn to feel like a loser.

“Then why did you give me a key?” She walked over to you, hands in her pockets as she leaned up against your door frame. Your oversized t-shirt swallowed you whole hiding the shorts you had on underneath. You looked so at home, so comfortable, and everything in Ellie’s head turned to mush as she imagined pulling you into her by your hips and kissing the lecture right off your lips.

“For emergencies.” Your eyes instinctively rolled at her but you knew you could never be mad at her. You secretly liked it as much as she did. 

“I thought it was an emergency. You know, that your date was sooo boring that you needed me to come and take care of you.” From her pocket she pulled out a skinny plastic container, popping open the top with her pointer and thumb and shaking the joint into her hand. “Plus, I bought you free weed so you can’t be too mad at me, Petal.”

“It wasn’t boring, stop saying that.” You took the joint from her hand and led her over to your side table where you kept your lighter. Placing the tip of the joint between your lips you attempted to light your lighter as you sat on your bed, but failed. 

“The fact that you still don’t know how to use your lighter is beyond me.” Ellie walked over to you, taking the lighter from your hands. “What would you do without me?” 

You were about to roll your eyes when Ellie’s free hand found the bottom of your chin, lifting it up slowly so you were looking up at her from your place on the bed. She towered over you in this position, her eyes trained on your lips where her joint was hanging from your mouth. She quickly lit the lighter and loosely grabbed your chin, bringing it close to her other hand where she lit the joint for you. She was unsure of where this bout of confidence came from, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t have several fantasies about you that began this way. 

Dazed, you stared up at her watching her hooded green eyes take you in. For a moment, you forgot what you were doing when she knocked her knees gently against yours. 

“Suck.” She commanded, voice low and sultry. In response your eyebrows knit together in confusion, not fully understanding what she was trying to say. “The joint, Petal. Take a hit.” 

Her voice came out in a whisper that would have made your knees weak if you were standing up, but you happily obeyed her, taking a drag. You took a deep inhale allowing the familiar burn to sit comfortably in your chest. Ellie removed her hand from your chin and sat down next to you. You almost whined at the loss of contact. 

As you usually did, you passed the joint over to Ellie, watching as she took a hit and blew smoke into the room. She was in her element, here with you and taking care of you in the only way she knew how. All of the things she refused to share with you were shoved deep down into a place she was forgetting the name of right now. All that mattered was you.

 When she passed it back to you she smiled, watching as your eyes became half-lidded and calm. You were in your soft place, a perfect place to stop. Ellie took another hit and clipped it, shoving it back into its original container and back into her pocket. 

“So,” She began, leaning back on both her hands and turning towards you. “How did it actually go?”

“I think it went well,” You smiled causing Ellie to instinctively smile back at you. “She was cute, really nice, laughed at all my jokes.”

“She must really like you then,” Ellie laughed to herself. “Cause your jokes are shit.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” You giggled, leaning into her. When you sat back upright Ellie had a wide grin planted on her face. 

“What?” You questioned her.

“Did you kiss her?” Ellie’s smile faltered slightly, her eyes telling her true intentions. She wanted to know if the girl you went on a date with was a better kisser than her. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously.

“Was it good?” Ellie’s smile was completely gone by this point.

“Not as good as with you.” You confessed, and just like that Ellie’s smile was back. “I mean it just wasn’t as good, but it was a first date what do I expect? Maybe it’ll be better next time.” Gone, again.

“Next time?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see where it goes.” You shrugged, matching Ellie's posture with your hands behind you.

“Maybe you just need more lessons.” Her eyes were fixed on yours, red and glossed over. 

“Maybe.” You blinked over at her, mouth going dry. “What are you getting out of it?”

“I’m just a really good friend, I guess.” She joked, hitting your shoulder with hers.

“Yea.” You whispered, eyes glancing at her lips.

“Ready for another lesson, Petal?” Her voice was steady, her high giving her the confidence sobriety couldn’t. All you could do in response was nod. She pushed herself off the bed and gently tapped the side of your exposed thigh. “Okay, lay back on the bed for me.” 

Quickly, you obliged, lifting your legs onto your floral bedsheet. Everything around you felt like silk from your high, the sheets, Ellie’s hands, the pillow that you rested your head on. 

“Good girl.” Ellie smiled, getting back on the bed, and sitting on her knees with her legs tucked underneath her. Gently, she leaned forward and pressed a soft peck on your lips, wiping off any trace of Malia. It wasn’t like the kiss the two of you shared earlier, your tongues weren’t down each other's throats and her hands remained at her side. It was slow, tantalizing almost, and when she pulled away a girlish smile spread across her face. When she sat back on her knees her hand hovered over your stomach. “It’s okay if I touch you here?”

You were rendered speechless, she was being so soft and gentle with you that it made you like putty in her hands. You eagerly nodded, causing Ellie to laugh. “I’ll tell you everything I’m doing, Petal. Maybe you’ll be able to teach your boring date what to do next time.” Her hands slipped under your shirt and skimmed the base of your stomach. Your breath hitched in your throat, hindering any ability to tell her your date wasn’t boring. At this point, she could say whatever she wanted to you and you would take it. 

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” Your eyes peered down at her, nodding once again. She pulled your shorts and underwear down together, painfully slow. She let them rest at your knees and lifted up your shirt that was covering your center. Suddenly, you felt extremely shy but didn’t make an effort to stop her. 

“You look so pretty, Petal.” She cooed as if she could read your mind. “Almost want to kiss it.”

“You can.” You weakly replied, knowing you were dripping from her words alone.

“Not so fast. We haven’t gotten there, yet. Basics, Petal. I thought you knew this.” Ellie leaned forward and pressed a kiss below your belly button, earning a whimper from you. 

“Be as loud as you need, okay?” Another kiss, another whimper. “I wanna hear you.” She moved to kiss you on the inside of your thigh. A gasp fell from your lips causing Ellie to smile against your skin. “Need you to tell me how good I’m doing.” 

“I’m gonna touch you now,” Her pointer and middle finger tapped your clit. Ellie was so focused on your cunt that she didn’t see your mouth fall open. “Right here.” 

Slowly she began rubbing tiny circles into your clit, applying light pressure. Your eyes fluttered closed, and a small moan escaped from your lips. Almost as if on cue, Ellie began applying more pressure, her eyes now focused on your contorting face.  

“Hey, hey, look at me.” She coaxed making your eyes glance at her. She looked so pretty, so focused on you that it made your pussy clench around nothing. “Feel good?”

Another nod.

“Use your words.” She picked up her pace making you scream out. Ellie almost moaned herself, just at the sight of you. “Mhm…Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“Fuck, Ellie,” Your breathing was jagged as you felt a knot tighten in your stomach. “It feels so,” She applied a little more pressure, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. “Fuck.” 

“You’re doing so well, baby.” Her movements were calculated, and her words were only egging you on.

“Ellie, I think I’m gonna-”

“Do it. Cum. I know you can do it, baby.” She was pressing hard and fast circles into you and leaned forward to press another kiss into the inside of your thigh. All it took was the words of encouragement from her and you were coming undone, screaming out her name in between rapid breaths. When Ellie was sure you were done she pulled her hand away and licked her fingers.

You collapsed into the bed, eyes closed and trying to steady your breathing. When you opened them Ellie was gone, causing you to sit up sharply, wondering if you had just fantasized what just happened. 

“Ellie?” You called out, looking towards your door where she was returning with a washcloth in her hands. 

“Just needed to get this.” She lifted up the washcloth and shook it as she sat back down next to you on the bed. “You kind of made a mess.” She chuckled. 

“Oh,” was all you said as you glanced down to where you were dripping onto your bed. 

“Can I?” You nodded, ignoring her red cheeks as she cleaned you up. 

“Thanks for that.” You started as you watched Ellie pull your pants back up. “I’ll see if I can teach Malia anything. I think your lessons will really help, you know.” And just like that the gentle smile that Ellie had plastered on her face since she began cleaning you up was gone. 

It was almost as if a part of her believed she could fuck you into loving her but it was becoming increasingly obvious these really were just lessons to you. 

“Yeah.” She sighed, standing up and throwing the washcloth in your hamper. “I should get going. It’s getting late.” 

“Oh, okay.” You smiled up at her, hoping to see her smile back. She didn’t. “Text me when you get home?”

“Will do.” 

And just like that she was gone.

ai audios:

[adamsrcnan]

just thinking about soft jerejean moments of them living together. them spending at least one morning each week lazing about in bed drifting in and out of sleep cuddled up together with jeremy laying his head on jean's shoulder, his leg tangled between jean's. sometimes jean can't fall back asleep so he just plays with the strands of jeremy's hair until he wakes up again. them in the kitchen moving around each other in a familiar routine always making breakfast together while jeremy tells jean about a weird dream he had and jean will say "it's probably because you watch those weird shows". or days off where jean will be doing some gardening while jeremy throws the frisbee around for their little pupper and the dog will get into jean's flower bed and jean will curse loudly in french and start yelling at jeremy and jeremy will yell back in english and then start laughing bc the dog tries to attack jean to stop them fighting and now they're both covered in soil. jean falling asleep on the couch and their dog climbing on top of him but these days he sleeps so heavily (bc he's safe and he knows it) so he doesn't even realise and jeremy will take a million pics and post them everywhere. and jeremy will sing in the shower while jean brushes his teeth and he's so used to it it's like background noise to him now but in a good way. them watching movies and jeremy leaning against jean and slowly sinking down until he's practically lying over jean's lap. jean putting his legs up over jeremy's lap and jeremy's hands automatically moving to massage over his muscles. showering together and washing each other's hair. folding laundry together. jean always folding bed sheets himself but jeremy can never get it right so he always has to help him. jeremy being messy, jean being a neat freak (they used to argue a lot but jeremy always cleans up his mess and jean doesn't mind picking up a stray sock or discarded boxers especially if it's bc he started the impromptu quickie in the hallway this time) just jerejean living in domestic bliss !

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (13) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter

the river next chapter

masterlist

4.9k words

warnings: angst, lots of it, fluff, mental illness, self hate, self destructive behavior, paranoid, scared, unreliable reader, gore, death, violence, cursing, bad familial dynamics, mentions of drinking and partying, unedited, no use of y/n, terms of endearment, allusions of dissociation

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You don't know for how long you'd been sitting in the water when Beetee and Johanna joined you. Their presence startling you out of the bliss of just holding Finnick in the water, as if it was a night back in District 4. But, this would never be that, this was just something Capitol citizens would cry over until they eventually forgot, moved on to new victors.

“We're going to head to the tree where the lightning strikes, so I'll have enough time to set up. Johanna will go with Katniss to the beach and take care of her after they get off the sand.” Beetee adjusted his glasses, you all had to be so careful with your words. To the people watching it had to seem like allies turning against allies, not a cleverly thought out escape plan for the rebellion. You nodded, but not a single molecule of your body wanted to move from where the ocean could rise and fall on you while Finnick's warmth shielded you from any chill.

“With the sun setting, we better start heading that way, then." Finnick began to stand, much to your chagrin, but the sooner this was over you could be safe with each other in District 13. At the very least out of the dangers of the arena. "C’mon, sweet girl.” He pulled you up from the water without a second thought, pulling you comfortably back into his side.

The trek to the tree felt long and grueling from the time you'd spent in the water, you couldn't stop yourself from thinking about your bed back at the house in District 4. That lovingly, delicately made bed where you'd processed the worst and best moments of your life before you slept. “I love you." It was unprompted, but it felt right for you to say to him as he walked, arm firmly around you.

Finnick tilted his head down at you, a soft smile on his handsome face, “I love you too, angel." He kissed your forehead, "Don't ruin the moment by telling me some plan you have of sacrifice.” Although it was playful, you knew he was somewhat serious, he knew you.

You lightly elbowed him and he exaggerated his wince, "I just spend a lot of time proclaiming how I can't live without you and not enough just say I love you, so yeah, I love you.” It felt almost embarrassing to admit, but your brain always felt like a cesspool of anxiety and fear, it had been too long since you'd been able to just be the two of you without a care.

"You know how complicated it is to be married to someone when their way is to live and die for someone when you love them so much all you want is for them to live an eternity?” The smile is still on his face and so’s that playful tone, but it fits where it needs to. If the world was a better place it would never have been a problem that you would follow him to the ends of the Earth. That you refused to wait for him when asked and followed him to the battlefields, but the world was not a better place and you'd dug your own grave in blissful acceptance.

“Yes I do, I'm actually married to him right now." He rolled his eyes at you with a scoff. As the sun faded the more thankful you were for Finnick’s warm touch that made it feel like there were a thousand fireflies under your skin. The closer you were to the tree, the closer you were to Beetee blowing the arena open, so you could live in some semblance of peace for at least a little while.

“Oh, be careful, angel." Finnick steadied you when you almost tripped over a stray root, a reminder that even if you'd been focusing your energy on not losing him, you were injured. The faster you could be in a hospital bed and without a lightness in your head, the better.

“Thank you." The words had barely rolled off of your tongue when you were suddenly in the presence of the lightning tree, which was monstrous as it towered over the other greenery.

“Minimal charring, it's an impressive conductor. Let's get started.” Beetee's voice is clear in the crisp night air, the fluttering and chirps of birds filling the air. Finnick’s warm hand guides you towards the tree, which you would consider to be rather intimidating. Beetee is instantly wrapping coils of the wire around the tree's branches. While he works you let yourself fall into the comfort of Finnick's neck, his scent, the warmth he exudes onto you. His free hand thrumming against your hip and you feel your brain leaving the moment before it's slightly occupied by Beetee's voice once again, “Typically a lighting strike contains five billion joules of energy, we don't want to be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits.” He's seemingly finished with his circles around the tree as he begins walking towards Katniss with the coil. “You and Johanna can go together now, take this, unspool it carefully, make sure the entire coil is in the water, you understand? Then head to the tree at the two o'clock sector. We’ll meet you there.” He's so precise, like a typewriter as it clicks out each letter.

From the look on her face Katniss seemingly does not understand, even in your slightly cloudy state you can tell she's unhappy with the letters clicked out. Peeta must feel the same way as he insists, “I'm gonna go with them as a guard." Johanna and Katniss would be just fine as each other's guards, and you can tell the so-called star crossed lovers plan to flee as soon as they can, not that you blame them. If there was no certainty you could survive with Finnick you would beg to do the same.

“No." Beetee instantly replies, his plan has made it through every cog in his brain. Peeta cannot be the wrench in the system that leads to freedom. “No, no, no, no, you're staying here to protect me and the tree.” The cloudy state is dissipating, if there's a plan you believed in it was Beetee’s and this stopped it from going off without a hitch you could feel the spiral around the corner.

“No, I need to go with her." Peeta stood his ground and you felt Finnick stand up straighter. Your own heart felt like it would thrum right out of your chest if the delay continued.

“There are two Careers out there, I need the guards."

Peeta pointed at you and Finnick, “They can protect you just fine on their own, two for two Careers." You cursed Peeta Mellark for trying to make holes in a plan he didn't even know about, but what he was aware of was irrelevant when you were all so close.

“If you want three, why can't Johanna stay with them too and Peeta and I will take the coil." Katniss interjected, the air was now tense.

Beetee walked closer towards her, “You all agreed to keep me alive until midnight, correct?”

"It's his plan, we all agreed to it.” Johanna chimed in, her voice still full of its usual blunt aggression, but you can sense the anxiety involved in keeping the plan on track.

“We should just stick to the plan and after we'll all meet up in sector two anyways." You try to say it softly enough as to not imply some sort of scheme worked out against the couple.

“Is there a problem, here?" Finnick tilts his head in Katniss' direction. She stares back at him for what feels like hours, like she's pondering her own response.

"Excellent question." Beetee has taken another step forward.

“No, but it should be three and three." Katniss eventually says, looking firmly at Finnick and then at Beetee. “She comes with me and Johanna." Katniss nods to you and suddenly your fogged state is truly gone.

“No." Finnick says too quickly.

Katniss shrugs, “Then we find another way to split it, but three and three is fair." She's trying to use you as leverage to keep Peeta safe, if any cannon goes off she'd attack you, you're sure of it.

The familiar sensation of nausea has once again nestled itself inside of you. How could you leave Finnick after you'd sworn to stay by his side as a reminder of your mutual safety, of you future together? Yet the plan needed to be executed in even less time now, regardless of what the cost may be. Your nose felt congested with the panic, but slowly you forced your heavy head to nod. “It's okay, I'll go."

The way Finnick looked at you for that you're sure will forever stay etched in the darkest caverns of your memory, like you've betrayed him. “Great, there's no problem then.” Katniss has already moved on to say her farewell to Peeta, but the pit in your stomach makes it almost impossible to look at Finnick.

"You said-” You have to stop him before he begins because you know you'll fall into a ball on the ground if the tensions rise anymore.

" I know what I said.” You croak out, "Finnick, there's no other way. We have to do it and I'll be back as soon as it's over. I really, I'm telling you I wouldn't do it if there was. Please, please, Finn believe me. And I'll find you right after.” You imagine you must sound somewhat incoherent in the way you can feel your own voice rushed and shaking, trying desperately to affirm your words. “Please." It's a plea for him to know you're doing it for him, for both of you, not because you didn't sincerely mean what you said. He nods slowly and you almost gag when you can't read the expression in his eyes.

Softly and slowly he taps part of your arm, ‘don’t forget,’ he's trying to say as he kisses your forehead before pressing his own to yours. He's shallowly breathing through his nose as he grips your shoulders.

Your voice is breaking as you beg for his trust, “Please, Finnick."

"It's okay.” He whispers and your brain screams that he's a liar. You don't deserve to have your feelings protected and you'll gladly spend the rest of your life making up for this. Then Finnick’s lips are on yours, the honey, the saltwater overwhelming your senses and you wish you could pause like this forever.

“We have to go." Johanna's gruff voice leads Finnick to pull away and you wish you could cry, grovel at his feet, and refuse to go with them. It's like weights are on your body when you begin to walk away, go back, go back, go back you tell yourself repeatedly. Yet you can't and you have to force your voice back to a normal volume, give a small smile. You've had years of training to act okay, but people from the Districts have always been more perceptive of the acts then those in the Capitol. At least you assume so, other victors at the very least know, the possibility that Katniss could fall into either category means you have to be extra careful. Make sure that she doesn't sense what has to be done to get them out of this wretched jungle.

“Yes, we're on a schedule.” You follow the two of them away from the lightning tree, your saving grace, Katniss is looking back at Peeta, but you know if you look back at Finnick the never ending, nagging self-reproach will make itself known. “We can trade off the coil if it feels too heavy, it's been a long day."

The rocks you're having to climb through don't make the trip any easier and the wounds still untreated in your back get increasingly sore. There's no telling how much distance you've actually put behind yourself and the tree, but it feels like an eternity. Which could just be due to the awkward silence that settled between you all. Apparently Johanna wasn't pleased with however much distance you had made in the time because her voice broke the quiet air, “Come on, I want to put as much distance between me and this beach as possible. Frying is not how I wanna go.”

You murmured out an agreement, somehow in the muggy air your body was still finding ways to be cold. You must just run cold because you could swear there were goosebumps taking over with every slight wisp of the wind. It made you miss having Finnick there with you, to keep you warm. Katniss seemed put off by something you couldn't see, “There's something…” She trailed off, pulling at the coil of wire that refuses to move. With a sudden jerk the wire bounced back, someone had cut it, Katniss dropped the coil behind her. You had less then a second to be caught off guard when Joanna shot you a look and you grabbed the coil, using all your force to knock out Katniss. There was no longer time to wait until after you'd taken the wire to the beach.

Katniss fell over and you tossed Johanna one of your knives, she swiftly was cutting the tracker out of Katniss' arms. Katniss was crying out in pain, you crouched over her shushing her as you saw Brutus getting closer. Johanna's bloody hands surrounded Katniss’ neck, if you were lucky she'd look close enough to death they wouldn't bother checking. Enobaria was in view now too and you took the knife from Johanna, throwing it in their direction which missed miserably, you were off your game.

“Stay down." Johanna hissed at Katniss before throwing her ax which also missed. Then the two of you were running the other direction. Brutus and Enobaria chasing you through the darkened jungle trees.

You could hear, far off, Finnick calling your name. “Where are you?" Yet before you could reply a spear was whizzing past your ear, you ducked, falling into the ground to keep you safe. Maybe if you buried yourself deep enough into the forest floor they would no longer be able to see you, but that was wishful thinking. You could hear grunting that just be fighting and your eyes searched in the dark for where the spear might have been, but you couldn't find it. Then there was a yell, your brain took a moment to register who it must have been, Chaff. A cannon echoed, your brain flashed with memories of how kind he'd been, drunk, reckless, how he could always make you laugh and loosen up at Capitol parties. You didn't know who'd killed him, but he was gone. Another reminder of what you needed to fight for, to escape for.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

District 4 was the same as you remembered it, while almost, even though the attitude was celebratory everything seemed much more bleak to you. You'd stared out the windows as you arrived at the outskirts, the waters were still glittering with the sun, no one was out working though, they must all have to be waiting for me, you told yourself. Sandy beaches and fields rushed past, you were excited to feel the heat underneath your feet once again.

“What's going on in that head of yours, sweet girl?" You'd nearly forgotten that Finnick was sitting not far off, letting you absorb the silence of the train car.

“Just ready to be home.” You allowed yourself to smile, to be excited, you felt like a pendulum of remorse for any positive thing happening, to elation that it was you who'd get those things. Maybe there would be no expected future of a crabbing business with Conway in a small, rickety beach house, but there was a grand home in Victor's Village now waiting for you, its own backyard being the expanses of the beach.

“You won't have much free time for a while, but I'll find time for us." Finnick scooted closer to you, “To picnic and swim as long as we can.” His ocean eyes are so talented at pretending to be okay, it hurts to think about it too hard.

"I'd love that.” He kisses you so softly you feel like the waves are slowly rippling around your body. You want him to consume you like the waves would, for your struggles to be washed away, and to live in the facade of a carefree, partying life he portrays for Panem. Even when you'd dated, sometimes he'd let it slip when it was the two of you, be resigned to his emotions, but most of the time he was full of adrenaline, excitement, laughter, and smugness. Maybe that's what you found so comforting, he could be the highest of highs and the lowest of lows which is how you felt. Conway was peaceful in a way that was almost dull, Finnick's chaos gave you, the peace that you supposed Conway would have given anyone else.

His hands, always radiating the heat of the sun and a thousand other stars, cradled your face when he pulled away to smile at you, “I'll be right by your side for the roughest parts and everything else, we can pretend it's just us, partying and thriving.” You didn't know if you could thrive, but you trusted him, if playing pretend made it easier you'd gratefully live every day in a fantasy.

You were both still young, if you could push away the dread thinking about what your actions had caused, then it would be a cake walk to act like you were still innocent on top of being young, dumb, and fun. Maybe it was true that there was nothing a few drinks couldn't fix, something you'd get to try out tonight, at the party where District 4 welcomed you back as their glorious, crowned victor. When you stepped off the train into the warm breeze made you smile at its familiarity, and the smell of fish that could sometimes reek simply made you ecstatic to be back, especially with the hints of salt water. It was hot and you were so blessed, the train had been blasting cool air as you sat in your tiny sundress, you would've sworn they were doing it on purpose, keeping you cold to remind you of how they'd nearly brought you to death and could do it again if they wanted to. You had no reservations of the Capitol’s cruelty, yet here you were so ready to lap up the rewards for being such a good puppet.

The train station was filled to the brim with familiar faces from all across the districts, school mates, buyers and sellers from the markets that you'd also missed so much, fellow crabbers your father was in competition with, cheering, smiling. Your win meant Parcel Day, meant pride for the District, it had been years since they'd won, not since Finnick, and here you were. You let yourself smile and wave back, trying to not let it falter when your eyes finally grazed over them. Conway’s family, it definitely must have been a requirement to come because they could not have been more than a cloud of complete darkness, a cloud that seemed like it would drag you in if you looked any longer. Some of them with their anger, seething as they started, others with a heartbreaking look of betrayal, and worse of all was his mother. Her numbness that you recognized from yourself that made you want to revert back into it. A voice you recognized called out to you, so you slowly peeled your eyes away from Mrs. Delmare.

Your sister, any feeling of dissociating into yourself fled when you saw her, helping your sickly mother stand. For what felt like the first time in years, they were all smiling. Of course they were, you'd saved them, you could give endless medicines, medical treatments, no one needed to worry about work anymore, not when you'd ensured it for them. Conway's family, the Delmares had a better off business, they had each other to stay afloat. If your sister took your place in the markets, trying to charm buyers, your mother would wither away and so would your shy sister. Maybe you weren't a part of their tight-knit group, but you still loved them and they needed you. Conway had said it himself, had validated that reason.

“Avonlea!" You smiled brighter, waving until your arm hurt. Eventually the Peacekeepers indicated it was time for the train station to empty out, you'd finally get some time with your family before rushing to get ready for a party with District 4’s finest, richest members. When the station had cleared of everyone except them, and of course your escort chatting excitedly with your designer team who'd been dragged along, Finnick and Ondine whispering something amongst themselves you'd run to your family.

You were shocked by your fathers hug, so loving, “Welcome back home, sweetheart." He whispered gruffly, voice deep and scratchy, the last time he'd hugged you was before you left for what he probably assumed was your certain death, and you couldn't remember one from before that. He pulled away from you, "I love you, we all do.” He said firmly.

You hummed out some sort of confused noise, "Everything was televised so when you talked to Conway about…” Your mom's frail voice trailed off into a cough that had you wincing.

"You're an important part of this family, we're sorry if you don't always feel loved, but you are.” Your father finished, gripping your shoulders like you'd slip away. It was sweet, but you'd never had any reservations about them not loving you, it wasn't just about love. It was the way you were never a part of them, whatever things they did together, was for them to do together, you'd go off, find Conway, find a party, and eventually you'd even found Finnick to keep your attentions occupied.

“I love you too." You kept smiling sweetly, “Mama, the new house is gonna be perfect for you, no leaks in the ceiling, the windows will stay shut at night regardless of the wind, the beach in our backyard, and I've already heard of all these new medicines."

“You're a sweet girl." Your mom smiled, reaching out for her cold hands to grab yours, “People might think differently around here after what they watched or think they saw in you, but you've always been caring to the core.” It meant a lot, you'd always envisioned your sister as the caring, compassionate one, not you with your days spent talking at the market as you sold your father's catches, before running off to find the excitement of other people. You felt like you were endlessly selfish, but maybe she was right, maybe your downfall would always be wanting to take care of someone else.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It was more painful to get up than you'd anticipated, rocks scraping your hands, but you couldn't just lay there and play dead. In the faint light piercing the darkness you could make out Brutus fighting with what seemed to be Peeta. Where had he come from? Finnick was supposed to be keeping him safe, when had that all gone out the window?

Johanna and Enobaria were also in hand to hand combat, with one swoop Enobaria could knock Johanna over and rip out her throat with those formidable teeth. The part of you that yearned for Finnick, to listen to him, told you to run, call out, find him, apologize more for leaving once again, but you couldn't leave them like this. You'd have to resign yourself that no matter what you did, you lived in a tragedy of eternal guilt. You threw your remaining knife and it landed on Enobaria's shoulder. Her screech was almost animalistic, she turned to you and that was when Johanna had her swept onto the dirt.

In a mess of grunts Peeta had tackled Brutus. With the way Peeta presented himself it was shocking to see the brutality of his strength especially against someone who you would've ranked among the stronger of the tributes. What looked to be a rock was in his hand, crushing itself into Brutus’ skull, over and over until another cannon went off. Quickly followed by the rumbling of thunder, “Finnick!" You screamed instinctually, you needed to find him. Weren't you all supposed to be far from the tree and in sector two? You didn't even know what sector you were in or where to go from there.

“Where's Katniss?" Peeta asked, his voice rushed.

“She's okay, she's safe." Johanna responded, to the citizens of Panem it would seem like a clever lie, but it was at its core an honest reassurance. Suddenly your body hit the ground again, head hitting a rock, the way it seared made you think it tore open the wound that must have been trying to scab. Your assailant is almost growling, Enobaria trying to rip your throat open. You screech scratching at her hands when what you assume is Peeta throws her off of you.

Johanna helps you stand, but you feel like passing out as she pulls you up. There's something you're forgetting, something that needs to be done, Finnick needed you to do it. The pain burning into your head makes it nearly impossible to focus on what, “Johanna, there's something, god, I can't think of it."

“What do you mean, there's something?" Peeta asks when suddenly there's a buzzing noise, you think it's your head, but the others look up. Something pulses through the dome and suddenly the sky, the real sky is shining through. It's not night, it's bright as day.

“We have to go, sector two." Johanna pulls at your arm, you're excited, this is it, freedom, but you pull away from her.

“Finnick! Finnick!" You yell as loud as you can, stumbling forward when suddenly debris starts to fall from the sky. A tree catches on fire, quickly engulfing those around it in flames.

“We have to go." Johanna urges again, Peeta is confused, stunned.

“No, I told him, I promised." You insist, trying to forge on ahead although you feel like you're going to faint. “Finnick, Finn, where are you? It's me!"

Johanna grabs you again, her pulling is harsher this time, “He'll find us, let's go." But his lack of a response has your blood fused with anxiety, what if he was standing to close when the lighting struck? You had to find him, to make sure he was okay. She pulls you away and you lose balance as another piece of the dome falls. You're forgetting something, you all are, something on the tip of your tongue and you need to find Finnick, he'll know, he'll remind you. It has to be figured out now, he has to be found now, so later he can joke about how helpless you are, how glued to each other you are. A hovercraft, Plutarch should have a hovercraft, but that's not the missing thing.

Tears are filling your vision, fuck, fuck, fuck, you're so stupid, he told you something or showed you something. Why isn't Johanna more concerned, has she forgotten too? You've thrashed out of her grasp when this time a beam falling from the sky is about to fall on you. There's an attempt to move, but before it had you somewhat trapped beneath it, screaming in agony when the pressure hits. “Finnick!" Your screeching is out of breath, but you need him to find you. You're sobbing, too overwhelmed, this is not how it's supposed to go, back aching, head throbbing, burning pressure laying on top of you, and without the one person you need. This is why he didn't want you in here, why you should've resisted Katniss and stayed close.

You were stubborn and now you're going to die here, Finnick's going to spend eternity cursing your name for refusing to just listen to his needs, to his love. You can't hear what Johanna and Peeta are saying, you think they're trying to move the metal, but you can't feel your legs. All the pain is too much that it's suddenly like you can't feel too much of anything, except the fact that your eyes are begging to close. To fade into the darkness, to welcome death, at least you won't have to see his anger, his grief.

Oh your Finnick, the way he tasted like honey when he kissed you, how he smiled and it blinded you, the way his touch was like sunshine. Your Finnick who took care of you at your weakest moments, who took care of you in your best moments. The Finnick you read to, the Finnick who'd always remembered how much you loved peaches, the Finnick who owed you a proper wedding. Your last thoughts would be of him, his brightness before the darkness entrapped you forever.

You woke up to a blinding light, white walls making it even more grievous on your eyes, it was freezing, when you went to move your hands they rattled to the sides of the stiff bed you lay on you realized that death would have been a much kinder master. The vase of white roses already told you your fate would be a lot worse than then the death would have bestowed. When your mind finally caught up with itself, the surroundings had been properly recorded, the first thing you did was to pray for death.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you to all of those who've read and supported this series so far, I'm so excited to start the river and explore finnick's perspective during the events of mockingjay. in the mean time feedback is appreciated, comments, likes, reblogs all make my day! I'm always excited to answer asks and requests are open, I'm working on some right now for you guys. thank you all so much for all the support and I love you all 💋

(also lmk if you guys want to be on my normal taglist as well, I haven't been tagging anyone because I'm just running under the assumption most of you just want to be tagged for this, so lmk if you want to be tagged in my one-shots too! you're all so appreciated, I genuinely can't believe people want to be notified to read this little series I made up anyways ❤️)

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[sixeyescurseuser]

Teachers Satosugu

Thinking about adults Satosugu who become Jujutsu Tech teachers together. They’re married too. In their late 20s, they’ve found sweet domestic bliss in the dangerous yet meaningful life they’ve created for themselves. 

Geto still makes sure to praise Gojo for all the work he does; often surprising Gojo with his favorite sweets or a trip down to the street vendors, saying: “Thank you for your hard work, Satoru” and “Come on, let’s eat something special, you deserve it.”

Gojo still goes on his one hour rants about topics that fascinate him, and Geto listens without complaining. Even if this is the third time digimon has been brought up this week. 

Geto stays at the school to teach for the majority of the time. He only takes missions if they are emergencies and avoids interacting with the higher ups. Thankfully, Gojo is more than willing to deal with that side of work. 

While Geto is involved in both physical training and classroom lessons, he’s more hands-on with the latter. Compared to the Kyoto students, let’s just say that the Tokyo students don’t put in a ton of effort when it comes to their academic scores. 

Geto is fated to be the hardworking but disappointed teacher. 

(Geto: “Nobara, Yuji, c’mon, I am begging you two to study more.)

The thing with Yuji is that he is smart in that he can memorize things and write well, but not being exposed to the sorcerer world from a young age has put him really behind. 

(Geto: “Hasn’t Satoru told you all about Sukuna’s origins and what not? Given you books from the library?”

Yuji: “Oh the library! I forgot that existed!”

Geto: …

Yuji: “Also no, Gojo-sensei didn’t tell me anything yet.”

Geto: 💀💀)

Additionally, Gojo isn’t the best when it comes to structured lessons in the classroom. He’d much rather skip over the boring stuff and show his students the real excitement out on the field.

This is where Tokyo students surpass Kyoto students in fighting abilities. Plus, getting lots of first-hand experience of what sorcerers actually deal with helps them quickly adapt to situations and strategize how to outwit their opponent. 

But book-smart-wise? Megumi carries. 

Once, Yaga gave the first years a firm reprimanding because of the missing past three mission reports. (Excluding Megumi.) Turns out, Gojo didn’t inform the first years about filling out mission reports at all. 

That night, Geto scolds the shit out of Gojo. 

Gojo: “Hey Suguru, isn't that your job? I just help them train their fighting skills, no?”

Geto pinches Gojo’s side - who lets out an undignified yelp - even though he knows Gojo is just joking. Besides, Gojo does try to teach the rules better after Geto’s scolding. Gojo just needs reminders, that’s all.

It doesn’t help that Gojo is literally a prodigy and always does things his own way. 

(Geto, shaking his head: “Lord knows these kids need all the help they can get with you as their teacher.”

Gojo: [jaw open, betrayed]

Cue Gojo decisively turning the other away in their bed. 

Geto: “Oh, did I upset the baby?”

Gojo: “Worse. You upset your husband.”

Geto guffaws.

“My husband can take it.” Geto moves so he’s spooning Gojo.  “Isn’t that right?”

Geto’s breath tickles Gojo’s ear, making Gojo shiver.

What were they talking about again?)

***

Gojo might be busy as hell but Geto will be there to protect their students from the higher ups. 

That mission where Yuji died for a short while after switching with Sukuna to face that special grade? It would never have gotten that bad. Geto would’ve been with his students and protected them.

Geto is anxious to the point where he designates certain curses for specific people, mostly to look after his students. This way, he can be there if his students are in serious danger, preventing more young sorcerers from dying due to the higher ups' negligence.

Of course, Geto’s rainbow dragon has always been assigned to Gojo. 

Gojo will often take Yuji on rides on the rainbow dragon, either for missions or just to be up in the air. When this happens, Geto’s orders for the rainbow dragon consist of: “Only listen to Satoru’s reasonable orders” and “Protect Yuji from Satoru’s recklessness.” 

On another note, Geto’s curses would have intercepted before Todo and Mai could beat the shit out of Nobara and Megumi. Geto himself would show up quickly after, furious when he sees the Kyoto students trying to take out his students. 

(Geto with his murderous glare: “As far as I know, the competition hasn’t started yet. No one should be picking fights with each other, hmm?”

Mai and Todo, quietly: “Of course, Geto-san. We’ll be taking our leave.”

Geto stays standing in front of Nobara and Megumi until the Kyoto students leave.)

Even as teachers, Geto and Gojo are incredibly competitive with Kyoto. Of course they’re going to talk shit during the goodwill exchange event. They’ll watch the broadcast of the competition and loudly cheer their students on. They’ll also whisper to each other in the most obnoxious way. 

Utahime is about to bust her blood vessels. She still throws her tea at Gojo when he makes a snarky comment that pisses her off; the tea bounces off of Gojo’s infinity and splashes all over Geto, who groans. 

Well, that shut the pair up for now. 

***

When Nobara spilled coffee on Gojo’s shirt, Geto had been the one to catch them first. 

(Shaking his head, Geto says: “You guys really did it this time…”

Nobara: “We could just replace it??”

Megumi: “It is 250,000 yen.”

Geto: “It's also Satoru’s favorite white shirt.” He pats Nobara’s shoulder comfortingly.

Yuji: “Geto-sensei, please help us!”

Geto: “And spend the precious money I earned with my own hard work? I don't know, Yuji-kun, I gain nothing from helping you.”

Nobara: “He’s your husband”

Geto: “And he’s your sensei.” He turns to Megumi. “Slash father”

Megumi: 😩😩

Moments later, Gojo enters the room: “Iijichi-kun said you guys have my newly laundered shirt-“

He sees Megumi with two breast bumps.

Gojo: ??

The others laugh as Nobara pulls out the stained shirt, causing Gojo to let out the most horrified, dramatic gasp. 

All the students find it hilarious, but Geto laughs the hardest. He's bent over, hands on his knees, straight up cackling. When Geto somewhat catches his breath, one look at Gojo’s stricken face sends him into another fit of laughter. 

(They are so married.)

Geto walks over and slings himself over Gojo. 

Geto: “It’s okay, Satoru, you can just get another one.”

Gojo: “That was my favorite one, you know this, Suguru~~”

Geto: “Satoru...you’re rich-“

Gojo: “My clothes are important, they aren’t so easily replaceable. Imagine if I had tried to replace you-“

Geto: “Did you just compare me to your inanimate white shirt?”

Geto begins to pull back, but Gojo immediately latches on to him.

Gojo: “Noooo, I didn’t mean it. I love you~~”

They proceed to act out a mini-drama, which ends in Geto leaving with faux-disappointment and Gojo chasing after him.

Consequently, Gojo forgets about his stained-beyond-repair 250,000 yen shirt.

***

When formation B occurs in response to Megumi being “hit on,” Geto watches from afar, disappointment deep in his veins. 

We’re too old for this, he thinks when Gojo reveals Megumi has to master twinkle twinkle little star. 

Having had enough, Geto steps in and tugs Gojo away. 

“Baby, come here, you forgot to take your pills this morning,” Geto says. Gojo gasps in offense. 

“SUGURU, SHUT UP! I'M NOT MENTALLY ILL!“ Gojo cries, but now there’s no way he doesn't look crazy.

Geto has his arms wrapped around Gojo’s waist while Gojo flails to escape. 

“Satoru, stay STILL- NO you are not going back!”

They end up making a bigger scene. Megumi wants to d-word. 

(“With this treasure i summon-“)

Gojo doesn’t care who hears or sees, and is now screeching for Geto to let him go. Left with no other choice, Geto bites Gojo’s shoulder. He also tries to shove his fist in Gojo’s mouth - anything to shut him up.

Geto is going all out like they’re teenagers again. 

(Nobara at Geto: “YEAH GET HIS ASS!”)

Geto eventually becomes aware of the small crowd that has gathered and rethinks his actions. He ends up dragging Gojo by his collar. 

“Ok, we’re leaving,” Geto calls to their students, leaving no room for argument. Megumi immediately follows, dragging Yuji and Nobara in tow.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[vampiric-succulent]

OUAW EP 26 (shorter bc I started writing this halfway thru):

FROST BECOMES A PROUD NUDIST AND DEREK’S COMMITMENT TO THE BIT I CANNOT

Oh god Gideon’s fey curse is so sad bc I was really hoping he’d play it no different but bc Richie played it no different Kremy is still in love w Gid and he’s gonna go through such a rollercoaster of emotions and events in the next bit oh no oh no

Ykw actually because Mace is playing it as physical attraction and bc of the “I like how you looked before” comment im gonna say this is Gideon being attracted to Summer Eladrin Kremy but still being in love with Kremy, which doesn’t necessarily make it less complicated but does change things

Where was this level of analysis when I still had to write papers for English classes?!??? Come on

“I am just so glad we are married” “oh the whole ironic thing! Right!! It’s totally ironic” NO GUYS COME ON KREMY IS SAYING THE IRONIC THING TO NOT BE HURT AND GIDEON IS GIDEONING SO MAYBE THATS THE SAFER OPTION

“We should probably get rings” AAAAAAAAAAA

“God I love you” HOLY SHIT HE SAID THE THING

“oh like ironically! You’re my best mate!” SAFEST OPTION SAFEST OPTION OH MY LORD

“Ironically, literally, there was a ceremony…” “ironically, just best buds right”

AND NOW MACE ISNT PLAYING IT ANY DIFFERENT. HES. HOLY SHIT HES JUST PLAYING IT LIKE IT WOULD BE IF GIDEON ALSO LOVED KREMY. AND MACE IS SCOOTING NEXT TO RICH I am going to cry

EVERYONE IS STRIPPING AGAIN WHAT IS GOING ON (atp this is just another Tuesday for these guys but THE CHARACTERS AND HISTORY INVOLVED SPECIFICALLY)

This is so well engineered to happen like this. It’s moments like these when I think the dice know.

Somehow Chuckles being here is not the most chaotic thing right now.

“Kremy. Kremy, lemme just say, I *loved* your previous form” SCREAMING. CRYING. HEAD IN MY HANDS. THROWING UP. SCUTTLING AWAY TO HIDE IN A CORNER.

He’s still trying to say it’s ironic whAT WILL IT TAKE. WHAT WILL IT TAKE FOR THEM TO BE HAPPY.

Gideon trying to protect Kremy from the “were-Twig.” That’s all.

Chuckles is becoming the most chaotic force again, the balance is returning

TWIG BEING THEIR DAUGHTER

Back to your regularly scheduled chaos :)

LIVE GRICKO REACTION TO POST NUDIST FROST IS GOLD oh I love these guys

Wow Mikey that is a Face to make

Love when Nikkie just forces them together she’s literally taking the characters and going “now kiss”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

COALECROUX DOMESTIC BLISS MOMENT WAHOO 🫵😮🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️

Derek’s little face aww

KREMY. IT IS NOT IRONIC. KREMY SHUT THE FUCK UP AND CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY OF BEING HAPPY

Love and hate how Donkey Torbek is just Eeyore. Poor little guy :(

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.

“You feel your consciousness almost leave you with the force of Torbek’s growth— oh that sounds awful” “SOMEBODY QUOTE THAT RIGHT AWAY” on it 🫡🫡🫡

Not the shants 😭😭

No come on keep the Gideon love come on please Nikkie :((((((

Seriously tho it’s very sad that Frost’s robe is gone. That was his old master’s robe and I’m pretty sure the only memory Frost had left of him. Damn.

“You have made……no progress.” Sorry Nikkie :(

Frost’s robe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And Bag of Holding :)

Andy’s donkey bit is so fucking perfect I love that it’s infecting others. The donkey mnemonic contagion spreads

Oh no, they have to go over a water crossing. That historically has not gone well.

The RagnaRoss and RagnaRachel fanart request…………… guys 👀👀

Love Derek being salty about his roll

Not the frog heads 😭😭

Okay I’m really hungry so I am gonna stop typing now if anything else happens there will be another one

[fleurriee]

Hey boo, congratulations on 2k again, you truly deserve it and more to come your way. ☺️

My first prompt request, yes first, is going to be from dirty little compliments: ❛  there's nothing you can do to make me stop wanting you.  ❜

tell me why the first thing i thought of for this prompt was the filthiest thing ever?? someone needs to get me some help fr. 2k drabbles!

pairing ; neteyam x fem!reader

synopsis ; your mate didn’t think you could get any better. yet again, he’s proven wrong.

themes ; smut, slight fluff, established relationship (mates) explicit content: p in v sex, dirty talking, squirting.

Laying on your back, whole body moving from the impact of your mate pounding into you from above, you closed your eyes as bliss overcame every one of your senses.

He was leaning down, face so impossibly close to your own that you could feel his panting breath tickle upon your features. You watched as his brows furrowed, tense expression taking over, feeling the tightness of your clenching pussy.

“Fuck,” he cursed, voice low and hoarse - the sound drove you absolutely wild. “You feel so good like this, yawne (beloved). So fu-fucking good.”

His praises ran through your system, taking each one of your senses over until you were just a trembling, stuttering mess. It was always the best feeling when he was like this - sure, there were the times where you adored him degrading you, finding pleasure in the pain of his dominance - but there was something about his praises, the way he made you feel loved and domesticated. You lavished in it.

A whine broke through from your parted lips, pouting when you fully understood his words. Your eyes fluttered closed in euphoria, shaky hands reaching up to grasp upon his broad shoulders, the taut, tense skin under your fingertips only managing to send another wave of arousal through you.

“Munxtate (wife),” he called, grabbing your attention once more. Once your gaze landed upon his own hooded one again, a smirk plastered itself upon his lips. “Are you close?” he asks, a teasing lilt hidden behind his voice. “I can feel how close you are, yawne (beloved)…”

You can feel it, too. There’s a tightening within the bottom of your lower stomach, the knot only growing more and more taut with each pound of Neteyam’s hips, slamming them into your own. The feel of his balls against your drenched pussy, of his cock hitting such a beautiful, sweet spot right at the back of your cervix - it was all sending you closer and closer to the edge -

But, when you finally let go, allowing the string to snap and for your release to tumble the way it begged to, it felt different than all the other times. There was so much heat in this one, so much altogether, that when it came flooding out of your system, you felt completely drenched.

A loud mewl fell from your lips when it happened, shivering in your spot as you moved side to side and arched your back, clenching around him subconsciously. Whilst your eyes were tightly shut, basking in everything you were feeling all at once, a growl - completely animalistic - sounded from above you.

It took you a few more seconds to completely recover from what you had just newly experienced, and when you hazily flickered your eyes back open, looking up at your mate’s panting figure as he sat up, you noticed he was completely soaked. Practically from head to toe, Neteyam was covered in your slick - that had just come from you; that was the feeling you’d just gone through.

Shame and embarrassment was all you could feel for a moment as your ears sank down against the top of your head, eyes softening as you attempted to let out an apology. But, at the sight of your dejected, guilt-ridden expression, Neteyam immediately jumped into action and captured your lips in his own. It was a slightly rougher kiss, one filled with passion and intimacy, tongues fighting for dominance as he began to give you your reassurance back.

Pulling away, Neteyam made sure to bump his head softly against your own, eyes locked in on your gaze. “That was fucking amazing…” he breathed out, a laugh tumbling from his lips. Then his once loving expression darkened, just the way you loved it, just the way that always got your arousal heightening all the more. “You don’t have to be ashamed, yawne (beloved) - there's nothing you can do to make me stop wanting you.”

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Cookies | Kim Hongjoong

-> Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

-> Request: No. This is a repost from my old account. It was from my Christmas celebration but it doesn't mention Christmas.

-> Synopsis: Baking cookies goes wrong.

-> Warnings: pure domestic bliss.

-> Word Count: 772

-> Requests: Open.

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©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead.

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you. 

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asks his girlfriend as he walks into the kitchen after hearing her let out a string of curse words. He’s unsure if he should have asked anything when he spots the tray of burnt cookies in on the kitchen counter.   

“I was trying to make cookies for our movie night and for you to take back to the dorms for the guys,” she rambles. When she looks at him defeated and about to give up, he steps in, grabs a tea towel and picks up the tray of burnt cookies. He makes his way over to the rubbish bin and tosses the cookies into it.  

“Let’s try again,” he says placing the tray back on the kitchen counter and rips off some baking paper from the roll lying beside the ingredients. “Where’s the recipe?”   

“I was going by memory of how eomma makes them,” she tells him, going through the ingredients.  

“Why don’t you just ask her for the recipe?” he asks looking over the ingredients.  

“I did have the recipe,” she admits with a sigh. “I lost it.”  

“How did you lose it?” He questions as he starts searching for the piece of paper covered in ingredients from all the other times she’s used it. When he can’t find it, he goes back to over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders he looks deep into her eyes. “We’ll just have to wing it. Are you willing to give it one more shot?”  

“Only if you help me,” she nods, feeling slightly better that he wasn’t making a big deal about the missing recipe and the last batch of burnt cookies.   

“That’s what I’m here for,” he says pulling her in for a hug and kisses the top of her head. “Now what’s the first step?” He says, moving to the sink to wash his hands.  

“2 cups of flour,” she says remembering that part clearly. She grabs the bag of flour and pours it into the measuring cup.   

While she does that, Hongjoong grabs the sieve and puts it over the bowl. Y/N then pours the flour into the sieve before measuring the next couple. Relief filled her when there’s just enough flour to fill the second cup. Hongjoong sifts the flour as she moves on the sugar and salt before moving on to soften the butter.  

An hour and a trip to the grocery store later, both Hongjoong and Y/N have batter smeared on their faces, their clothes are covered in flour, salt and sugar, two burnt batches of cookies are in the bin and they’re looking skeptically at the gloop that is meant to be cookie dough in the bowl.   

“I think we should ask your eomma for the recipe again,” Hongjoong scrunches his face up, feeling gross and in need of a shower. “I need a shower.”  

“I’ll call her tomorrow,” she agrees, feeling the same. “I have cookies in the cupboard we can have instead.”  

Hongjoong eyes widen as a look of frustration crosses his features. “Yah! Why have we been trying to make cookies this whole time?”  

“Homemade cookies always taste better than store bought,” she shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “And I thought it would be fun. And then you decided to help me out so I thought that could be even more fun. But I lost my eomma’s recipe and now we’re both a mess and have to use the store-bought ones,” she pouts slightly.   

Hongjoong lets out a breath. “Let’s clean this up, go shower, get into something comfier, and eat those store-bought cookies while watching a movie?”   

“Sounds good to me,” she agrees again.   

They quickly clean up and have a shower and get dressed into some pajamas. As Hongjoong makes them some hot drinks, Y/N grabs the chocolate chip cookies she has stored in her pantry. She takes them into the lounge, places them on the coffee table and takes the blanket hanging over the back of the couch and unfolds it.   

Hongjoong joins her in the lounge, carrying both cups of hot chocolate. He hands her cup to her once she’s settled on the couch and sits down next to her. She turns on the tv and finds a movie they both like to watch.   

“Thank you for helping me try to make cookies when you didn’t have to,” she rests her head on his shoulder, quietly thanking him a few minutes into the movie.   

“I had fun,” he smiles kissing the top of her head. “And I’d do it all over again. Let's just make sure we have the recipe next time.” 

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[peachsayshi]

i’m not so big on pregnancy-related things etc. but. . . i really was just having some deep thoughts about an idea with heian era sukuna & a concubine of his. she’s the first of all concubines he’s been with to actually end up pregnant — meaning she’s the one bearing the king of curses’ firstborn.

and she probably wasn’t even with him as long as the others — maybe only for a couple months, at the least. but it’s her body that was special enough, strong enough to carry his seed. i’d take it’s unexpected for her too, with the context that she became his concubine out of the sheer conclusion she had nothing else to live for.

so this baby changes everything but it’s also horrifying because pregnancy means this concubine is being hit with something that she’s never learned to bear before. (as if putting up with sukuna was easy as is.) she’s probably a person who keeps to herself a lot, still hasn’t adjusted well to this life!

i imagine sukuna is just sukuna about it. i think he’d be more possessive over this concubine — keep her to himself more, have her sleep with him in his bed, etc etc. (maybe just maybe the both of them feel that attachment towards one another, perhaps more so the concubine because sukuna’s all she has now. and let’s say she wants to help raise this child too—) on top of it he’s expectant and so sure of having a son to be a rightful heir. but instead when the concubine gives birth — the king of curses’ firstborn is a daughter. (fate is just kinda funny that way idk!)

also bonus for dad!kuna. im so sorry im jus rambling atp LOLLL

nonnie!! I am squealing over this! this is generally my thought process when I write out anything for dad sukuna regarding him and his concubine, especially because his concubine is capable enough to carry his child. I alluded to that in the most recent part of my dad sukuna story - but honestly? I always pictured sukuna as a boy dad that I never thought of his first born as a daughter!!

his daughter may look like you, but her attitude is all sukuna and he falls in love with her instantly! and of course an attachment forms (it was already starting before his fiery little girl came into this world) but more so now whenever sukuna sees the two of you together 🥺 he wasn't even sure if he was capable of feeling any type of softness until he started witnessing these moments of domestic bliss.

can you imagine him coming home after a night of terrorizing humans and sorcerers alike, only to find you and his girl snuggled up in his bed?

oh, how that man would melt instantly!! 😭