#well its my treat for finishing my case brief. time to start on my other case brief *biggest hugest eyebags*

[iiscpr]

and ball and chain ad ball abnd ball and chain and ball and

[allie-campbell-bradshaw]

Chapter 10: Maybe It Isn’t All Bullshit

A/N: This chapter had me COMPLETELY in my feels! This is when the pages really start to turn people! I tried something new and wrote it in the author’s point of view, that way we could get a good grasp on Bradley AND Allie’s feeling at the same time. You’ll also find some more developments for supporting characters as well. I mention this in my notes for every chapter, but just in case you missed it– I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted without credibility. If you do want to post this story to your page, please be sure that you tag my account or at least mention its original source in your post. 

Also: This story is sequential…please go back and read my other chapters, in order, for the best results!

Again, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Very brief mentions of sex (nothing explicit), swearing (it is the navy after all), mentions of a horrible childhood, and a blissful wisp of a blossoming romance!

Chapter 10: Maybe It Isn’t All Bullshit

AUTHOR’S POV

Allie closed the door of room 2 on the student wing. The student wing of the Naval Academy hospital was outside. The navy letters of the hospital hung over the 6 navy blue doors that led to the patient rooms. These rooms were used for quick and easy treatments for students and staff that suffered slight injuries throughout the day. That morning, Allie had treated two students who fell pretty bad on the track. Easy bandaging. The student in room 2 broke his clavicle during an incident on the submarine simulation that they had on base. Allie assisted with the X-Ray imaging and helped the student get placed in a sling. The day was very uneventful overall.

Allie made her way back into the hospital through the sliding glass doors, crossed the hall of the lobby, and made her way over to the nurses station in the second wing where Kiera and Holly were standing.

“Join us for lunch?” Kiera asked Allie, as she was finishing up typing the report of sling man. 

“Can’t” Allie answered shortly, keeping her eyes on the computer screen.

Kiera and Holly exchanged a look, as if to tell each other that their friend is no longer as fun as she used to be.

“Okay, that’s it!” Kiera said, reaching over and pulling the laptop away from Allie.

Allie looked over at her confused; “What?” she asked genuinely. Not at all understanding what Kiera meant by that.

Kiera gave her a slight smirk, “We are prescribing you with a break…” she said in a gentle tone, not wanting to upset her best friend.

“I take plenty of breaks.” Allie corrected her, reaching over and pulling the laptop back in her direction, wanting to finish her report on the student she just saw.

“Not enough!” Kiera replied, a little snappy, but still gentle enough to complete her humble personality. Kiera slid the laptop back to her and held on tight on the back of the screen. Allie reached over for it again, but she didn’t try to snatch it back. She knew it would be no use, Kiera was far more stronger than her.

Allie looked down as she collected her composure, growing slightly frustrated with the “cock blocking” that her friend was doing between herself and her work.

“Look,” Kiera began, “We love you and we can see the life being sucked out of your eyes. Working with students is torture, and it sucks your soul out…” Kiera was being incredibly sarcastic and the least bit sympathetic for Allie’s situation during this shirt: “ but we can also see that you are itching for some fun!”

Allie kept her eyes down, but did look up slightly, admitting to herself that Kiera was right. She had been stressed to the MAX since she graduated from nursing school at Johns Hopkins University back in May. While there, she met her two best friends, and brought them with her to the Naval Academy when they graduated. Given Holly’s obsession with military men, she followed without a problem. Kiera however, was a different story.

Kiera was from New York City, growing up in a family of 7 in two, sometimes one, bedroom apartments throughout the area. She was the oldest, and held onto much of the responsibility of keeping house while her parents worked multiple jobs to pay the bills. When she graduated high school, all she wanted to do was get out. She went as far as she could within reason and ended up in the nursing program with Allie. However, after 4 years apart from her family, and the death of her brother, she felt it was her responsibility to go back and help with her other siblings. After a nasty fight with her mom after she moved back, Kiera packed her bags, moved in with Holly, and never looked back. It had been 2 months since she’d heard from any of her family, but it didn’t bother her as much as it used to, since she was with the two people she loved most.

“Please,” Kiera pleaded to Allie, “join us for lunch. It’s only 30 minutes out of your life”.

Allie looked up at Kiera, who had a hint of loneliness and pain in her eyes, nodded and smirked at her. 

All three girls walked out of the lobby and into the connecting wing of the academy, where a small cafe stood in the corner of the large room. The room was a completely open concept with glass walls stretching all three stories. Stairs linked the three stories on the opposite side, with glass paneling that overlooked the cafe area. It was small, only 6 tables scattered the cafe area, each with sets of 2-4 chairs–people moved them around all the time.

Allie and Holly sat down at one of the tables and Kiera went to an empty table, grabbed an unused chair, and brought it over to them. The tables and chairs were gray metal, completely cold due to not being used in awhile. Two Academy students were working in the cafe, dressed in their service khakis with an apron provided by the cafe draped over them.

Kiera bought all three of them coffee, which they all greatly accepted. “So,” Kiera said, breaking the awkward silence that now existed at the table, “What’s the newest update with medical school”?

Kiera and Holly had their eyes glued to Allie, who just responded with a shrug. She had felt defeated recently in regards to that subject. Halfway into the nursing program, Allie got to participate in a field experience in the surgical wing of Sinai Hospital. During that time, she saw a life saving surgery of a little girl that reminded her of herself when she was her age. She got to be part of the team that performed her heart surgery. However, there was a complication with the surgery that was discovered the next day, and the girl died within minutes. That experience changed Allie’s life, and she realized that nursing was not her end goal in healthcare. Since that day, Allie had been studying anatomy and surgical procedures during all of her spare time. She had recently filled out applications to various medical schools in the United States, hoping to be accepted and able to go by this time next year.

Harvard, Stanford, Cambridge, and Oxford all had applications form her headed their way. She wanted to be able to attend a medical school that was not only rigorous, but also an institution. She honestly didn’t care which of the four she was accepted into, but Stanford was her number one. No reason other than that was just the one she gravitated towards the most. Most particularly because it was away from here…this Academy…where she constantly had men breathing down her neck.

The conversation drifted from Allie’s current surgical studies, to Holly’s love interests (of that there were plenty), to Kiera’s dry-spell, which has lasted longer than she cared to admit. Allie finally let out her first genuine smile-filled laugh when the pager, attached to her hip, went off beep, beep-beep, beep. Silence. Beep, beep-beep, beep.

Allie’s face dropped as she was slowly forced back into reality. She was being paged back to the hospital. She checked her pager’s screen to see the message: Student, 23, in need of immediate medical assistance, student-wing, room 1.

Kiera and Holly’s smiles also dropped as they watched their overworked friend get called back into her personal hell. “And just like that,” Kiera began, in an upset tone; “the magic is broken”.

“Well,” Allie said, as she began to get up, “We ain’t no Disneyland”!

“Hey,” Holly said softly, watching her friend, who had a look of dread in her eyes, “Don’t forget about Friday, please?” Holly knew it was inevitable that Allie would cancel, but had high hopes that she would go out with them just this once.

Allie tapped her forehead with her index finger twice, as a way to say ‘it’s in my brain’ as she grabbed her trash and turned towards the hospital. Her friends watched as she strutted out of the cafe, threw her trash away, and went into the hospital wing.

There were flirtatious giggles coming from the two men that were behind the cafe counter. Kiera and Holly looked at them and then back at each other, rolling their eyes in sync at the men’s thoughts that they knew were of Allie as she passed.

“Why can’t that kind of stuff happen to me?” Holly said in desperation.

“Because you give into anything that moves” Kiera replied in a funny tone, making fun of her friends’ tendencies, while also making it clear that it was a joke out of love.

They both got up and started assembling their own trash as they prepared for their afternoon shift with their patients, all of which were recovering from extensive surgeries that happened within the last few days, and one woman that recently had a baby. Although this hospital was located at the Naval Academy, it still was available to the public as it was one of the only hospitals in Annapolis with a solid reputation. It was small, but the surrounding community appreciated having quality care ready for them should they need to go to the emergency room, but it was mainly used for Naval students and staff as well as navalmen and women that were stationed around the area.

Allie stopped at the other nurses station that was at the right wing of the hospital, smiling at another nurse as she handed her a clipboard with this 23-year-old student’s information on it. Allie returned the smile with a slight smirk of her own, even this nurse, who barely knew Allie, knew how much she hated being on the “student shift”.

Allie read through the notes of the student’s medical file as she made her way to room 1 of the hospital;

Name: Bradley Bradshaw

Age: 23

Vitals

Body Temp: 98.2

Pulse Rate: 63

Respiration Rate: 16 Bpm

Blood Pressure: 111/60 mm Hg

Description of Injury: Student was in their flight training course when they smacked their hand on a magnet strip located inside of the cessna. Student has reported a pain level of 3/10, although it is expected to be much higher. Student now has ice on the injury, but it needs to be wrapped. X-Ray showed no signs of broken or fractured bones. Monitor for possible ligament strain.

Allie knocked on the door of room one, as to give her patient a warning that she was about to come in. She pushed the door and held the clipboard to her chest. “Good afternoon Mr. Brad-” she froze in her place as she made eye contact with the man that has single handedly made her life more stressful during this last week and a half.

“Mr. Bradshaw. Or, you could even say Midshipman Bradshaw”. Bradley responded to her, with a flirtatious smirk on his face, sweat forming along his hairline. It was no lie that this outdoor wing of the hospital was known for its low quality air-flow. The summers were miserable in these sticky rooms and the winters left you freezing. Students worked their asses off to make sure that they didn’t get hurt during the extremely hot and extremely cold days, but for some, it was unavoidable. 

“Jesus” Allie muttered under her breath, looking down so she could roll her eyes as she prepared for what was going to be the longest 15 minutes of her life. Utter torture is the best thing she could compare it to.

“What?” Bradley questioned, leaning in so he could hear her better. Although he asked, he knew full well what she said.

Allie raised her eyebrows and put on a fake smirk as she walked over to the counter, putting his chart down and washing her hands. “So,” she began, as she turned off the faucet and shook her hands over the sink before grabbing a handful of paper towels to dry the remaining moisture, “You smashed your hand on a magnet strip inside an airplane?” She sounded a bit unimpressed, and left a tone that was meant to make him feel utterly stupid, which didn’t work. Nothing really hurts his feelings anymore.

“No”. He replied, quickly closing his eyes and shaking his head. Obviously he told a lie, but it was more like a half-truth than a full-on lie. “I mean, yes” he corrected himself. Allie looked at him utterly confused, with a face that one would have when talking to a completely stupid person. “Yes, I hurt my hand, but not by accident.”

“So, you hurt your hand on purpose?” Allie questioned as she threw away the paper towels and sat down in the rolling stool, making her way over to Bradley.

“Yes.” Bradley answered matter of factly. “I needed to see you, and I knew that this was the only wa-”

“You can just stop there!” Allie said back sternly as she placed her fingers on his hand, with the intent to turn it so his palm would be facing up, but something made her stop. Something about his touch made a bolt of electricity fire through her. She quickly let go of his moist hand.

Bradley noticed the change in her demeanor and had a look of curiosity on his face. She gathered her composure and looked up at him, taking note of his complexion. His eyes were a piercing brown, with a hint of hazel. Hers were a brighter hazel, one that would be the next shade up from his if they were on a color palette together. “I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as she went back to grab onto his hand.

“It’s okay,” Bradley responded, slightly uneven, “I don’t bite”. He said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Allie would never admit it to him, but that joke did amuse her for a brief moment. Allie now had his palm facing up and was examining the swelling that did not look good, at all.

“But you do gamble”. She said, throwing a punch in her words, which stung at Bradley’s heart. 

“Yeah,” Bradley said slowly and cautiously, “about that…”

“Don’t worry about it”. Allie said, stealing a glance up at him before going back to his hand. “You’re not the first one to say that. It was quite unoriginal”.

Allie now rolled her chair over to the cabinets and bent down over the stool, opening a floor cabinet and began rummaging through it, looking for ace wrap. 

“But, it wasn’t even my idea”. Bradley said, with a slight beg in his voice. “It was my roommate Emmett’s, I just went along with it”.

Allie froze in her search, looking up at his leg for a split second before refocusing on the insides of the cabinet, scanning every corner for the wrap that she needed for his hand. She couldn’t explain it, and didn’t want to believe it, but something felt genuine in his voice.

Finally, she found it! She reached far back as she grabbed the substance, closed the cabinet and rolled back over to Bradley. He looked at her with a curious expression, wanting to know everything that was swimming in her brain. 

“I-” He began, before finding himself speechless. How could he not be? In a room with a woman as beautiful as her in it, it was easy to find oneself speechless. “It was just bullshit. I was bullshitting him. I didn’t care about a single outcome of that bet. I just wanted to get to know you. That’s not bullshit.”

Allie was now holding his hand steady as she interlaced his hand with the ace wrap, completely ignoring his explanation on the outside, but fully listening to it on the inside. “You’ll need to keep this completely wrapped for 24 hours, and then just re-wrap it every time you notice the swelling flaring up. Take ibuprofen for the swelling and pain. It should go down within the next few days. I would come back on Monday if it hasn’t. Make sure to ice! Don’t use heat, or the swelling will get worse. And absolutely don’t go putting your hands on medal powerstrips ever again”.

Allie started standing up, when she felt his clean hand hold onto her wrist, “Allie-” He began to plead, but let her go after a second, knowing full well that no amount of begging would satisfy her. 

“Mr. Bradshaw,” she began, with a professional tone in her voice, “Midshipman Bradshaw,” she corrected, remembering what he said 20 minutes earlier. She swallowed hard as she prepared for the next layer of her speech, “I appreciate your care and compassion for the Navy. Your service can never be fully repaid”.

Bradley smirked and nodded his head in thanks as she went on, “But I would like to remind you that I am a nurse, and you are my patient. And we will not have a relationship that goes anywhere beyond that. I would appreciate it if we could continue this relationship professionally whether it be in the hallways or a treatment room. I thank you for your patience and understanding.”

Allie turned her body towards the cabinets when she froze in her tracks, caught off guard by Bradley’s loud laugh. “Oh-my-God!” Bradley managed to say in between laughs, “How many times have you said that?”

Allie was in fumes, upset with his reaction. “You see,” He said, still in a fit of laughter, “Here I am being genuine in my apology, and here you are with the same old bullshit boring speech that you give the ordinary midshipmen”. Bradley was still laughing, but Allie could have nothing more to do with this conversation.

She turned her body and grabbed his chart off the counter, stealing one last glance at him, her face red with rage. Turning her back towards him and heading to the door, she froze again, finding the anger getting the best of her. “Listen here!” She snapped, facing him and letting him have it, “Your ‘apology’ was anything but. An apology is saying “sorry” and all I heard you say was nothing but excuses and vulgar language!” Bradley had stopped laughing and was growing anxious as she was walking towards him, “and don’t even think for a second that you’re anything out of the ordinary ‘Midshipman Bradshaw’. You are completely ordinary! In fact, even the most ordinary of men here have more originality than you! And it’s not at all about the bet! It’s about the fact that a 22 year old man can’t even come up and simply ask me out on a date without having to get his no good, immature, teenage roommate involved! Now there is nothing more bullshit than that!”

Allie stormed out of the room, letting the door slam behind her as she stomped through the pavement, halfway between room 1 and the sliding glass doors of the hospital, she slowed her pace and then quickly came to a complete halt.

What did I just do? She thought to herself, completely embarrassed about her lack of professionalism. Had she just put her entire future at risk? Her job? Her security blanket? But more importantly, did she just admit that she wanted Bradley to ask her out on a date? She didn’t mean it the way it came out. She wasn’t interested! At all! But would going out with him be so bad? And if he didn’t fuck up and just asked the normal way, would she have said no?

Of course I would have! She answered her thoughts. I would have rejected him just as hard as I’ve rejected others in the academy. She didn’t care that he was much older and more mature than plenty of the other ‘ya-who’s’ on campus. Before she knew it, she was storming back to room 1, throwing the door open, and finding Bradley in the same position that she left him in–paralyzed with shock on the chair that was next to the exam table.

She looked at him, and he looked at her. She was covered in anger and he was completely flabbergasted. No one knew what to say.

“If that wasn’t bullshit, what was I wearing?” She demanded to know. His eyes squinted in confusion, his lips parted on his smooth shaven face.

“The night we met,” she answered, reading his mind. “What was I wearing?”

She stood above him like a queen looking down on the poorest of peasants, knowing the full power she had over him in this moment. She had got him in his own game! From her experience, any man that ever wanted to sleep with her only noticed two things, her eyes, and the shape of her perky breasts. And he was about to be caught red-handed in the same league as those ‘ordinary’ assholes that she has fought against for years. 

Bradley looked down, adjusting his shoes and tying a lace that had gotten loose. She watched as he did this, finally noticing that he was wearing the camo pants of his working uniform and a black skin tight shirt that was showing off the muscles that he had begun forming, they were still underdeveloped, but further along than any other midshipman that she had seen on base.

He sniffled and stood up, keeping his head down as he answered her question, “You were wearing a red dress with white flowers printed all over them. It was loose, and swayed in the breeze that hit you on the dock. Your hair was out of your regular ponytail, curled more than it is now. You had on an anklet that showed in the sunlight, and later on I saw that you had on a locket. It had an “A” printed on it. Your toes were painted a light pink. It was the same color as your nails. And you had white sandals that you carried instead of wore. And studs in your ears that were opals'' Bradley was now at her shoulder as he looked down at her, a complete shift in the power…now he was the king and she was the peasant. She held a flabbergasted expression on her face.

He didn’t say anything else, slowly walking towards the door, “Thank you for the care, nurse Campbell.” he said to her as he left the room, proving he knew another detail of her life–taking the time to learn her full name rather than her bra size.

Allie stood there in shock, focusing on nothing but breathing as she reached into the neck of her scrubs and pulled out the golden locket that was attached to a golden chain. She rubbed her thumb against the “A” that was on the face of the heart. She kept her gaze forward as she regained her composure.

She knew that she made a lot of solid points, and that her analysis of this man was legit. He was less than ordinary, and a complete ass, but she was wrong about one thing… it wasn’t all bullshit. 

[sunlight-moonrise]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Being a Barista and falling for a regular is as cliche as it gets. Having that customer become your new professor? Not so much. 

A/N: *Peeks head out* Hello everyone. I have come back from my unannounced hiatus to show off this baby. Major thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ for helping me put this fic together. This was written for the lovely @httpnxtt​ for the secret-fic-swap in the Discord (thanks @imagining-in-the-margins​.) I hope you all enjoy this smutty goodness. 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Face Slapping, Degradation, Slight Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (male receiving), Fingering, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex/Creampie

Word Count: 6.4K

Masterlist

Being a barista is pretty awesome. Sure, there were bitchy customers and super early mornings but it had it’s redeeming perks. We got free coffee, tea, and snacks during our shifts, which served the caffeine addict in me. I also learned how to make popular lattes, mochas, and frappes that I ended up making at home for myself one too many times. While there were the occasional assholes who couldn’t appear human before getting their hands on some caffeine, there were the regulars who made it worth it. Most of the regulars were so sweet, I appreciated a familiar face when they came in. Some.. more than others.

“He’s baaaaaaaaack,” my coworker Hazel whispered to me in a sing-song voice as she scribbled a customer’s name on a cup. I turned to see who she was talking about, but I already had an inkling about who it was.

My suspicions were correct. I turned to see one of our kindest regulars, my personal favorite customer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Is it weird to know the full name -including the honorific- of a customer? Possibly. But when I’d asked for his name to write on his cup the first time he came in, he accidentally gave me his full name. 

“Dr. Reid- uh, Spencer. Sorry, work habit.” He stuttered, avoiding my eyes after the mistake.

“No worries! What can I get started for you?”

As a Criminology major,  I learned to study the people who catch my attention before indulging them. Call it an old habit. 

Dr. Spencer Reid had earned his title and then some. He’d joined the FBI at only 22, having six degrees under his belt by the age of 27. He’d written several dissertations and co-wrote novels with his colleague, David Rossi. Someone with his reputation could be a pompous ass and have a leg to stand on, which is what made his humbled demeanor so much sweeter. He was also incredibly easy on the eyes, which was a nice little bow on top. 

Hazel liked to joke about how we’d make a cute couple but I know she only did it to watch me get flustered.  

I walked towards the counter to take his order, leaving Hazel with the task of refilling the caramel syrup. I’m always the one to help him since he very aptly pointed out that I’m the only one who makes his coffee just how he likes it.  

Some days, he’d let me surprise him with a random creation. I’d confirm if he wanted caffeine (he always did), iced or not, and any flavor requests. He’d take his drink, tip me handsomely and let me know his thoughts on the drink the next time he came in. So far, his favorite was the almond milk honey latte I’d concocted. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, especially with regulars who were as consistent as him.

“Hey Doc, what can I get ya’?” I asked.

“The usual, please,” he said with a smile. I nodded and set off to make his drink: a venti dark roast with a shit ton of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.

“Of course!” I quickly go to fill his order, making sure to put a complimentary treat in a bag for him. I know he had the ultimate sweet tooth so I try to sneak him a confection whenever I can. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the free pastries, but nowadays he usually smiles when he sees the small bag. 

“Here ya’ go.” I handed him his steamy cup of caffeine along with the little treat, seeing him smile at the small pun I add to his cup, “Have a BREW-tiful day, Doctor!” I watched as his lips landed on the rim of the cup, taking a long sip of the hot coffee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the sight making my cheeks promptly flush. I cleared my throat before asking, “Is it good?”

“It’s always good when you make it,” he stated matter of factly, a small smile touching his lips. The heat in my cheeks rose again. “Will you be taking a course this summer?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. My first day is actually later today. I’m surprised the class section was open, to be honest.” Super surprised actually. I’d been trying to enroll in this class for the past couple of semesters but it was always full by the time I was able to even load the registration page.

“Well, I’ll wish you luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I can just tell.” He stated calmly, like it was common knowledge. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Before he could respond, an insistent cough caught both of our attention. I peeked over Spencer’s shoulder to see a customer waiting for his order to be taken. I turned my attention back to the Doctor, an annoyed look painted on my face. He nodded, taking a hint from the impatient mouth breather behind him. 

“Thank you for the coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope that class goes well.”

“Bye, you too.” I waved, watching as he exited the door. I turned to the waiting customer, a bit miffed that he interrupted our conversation. But because I was at work, I plastered a fake smile on my face so that he wouldn’t see just how annoyed I was. “Welcome, how may I help you?”

●●●

After clocking out at 2:30 PM, I made a dash for the building where my class would be held. It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour, but I wanted to be sure to get there in time to choose a good seat and settle in before the rest of the class arrived.

Luckily room 301 was relatively empty so I was able to score a perfect seat by the window. I decided to kill some time by listening to some music and doodling randomly in my notebook. Some time had passed when I felt someone take the seat next to me. I turned to see a young man occupying the chair beside mine. He looked to be a frat boy based on the Greek letters he was sporting. Who wears a cap and hoodie in this weather? I really hope he didn’t expect to cheat off of me- although these types of guys always seem to do so.

I was about to return to my doodle when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned to give the offender my full attention, removing one of the earbuds from my ears. 

“Hey, I’m Tony,” frat boy said, with a wide smile adorning his face. I must admit, his boyish grin melted the slight annoyance I had begun to stir toward him. I returned his greeting and introduced myself as well. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he continued, “but I like to have at least one buddy in each of my classes. In case we need help or miss an assignment or something.”

I nodded my head - a friend in a class was always useful when it came to studying and swapping notes. We chatted a bit more, learning about each other’s major and why we both decided to take a summer course. Tony is a double major and this course will satisfy the credits he needs for his psychology requirement. This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. 

It wasn’t until I heard the hush of the classroom that I realized the class was about to begin. I turned back to my notebook, preparing to jot down some important information despite it being the first day of class.

“Good morning class.” Wait. That voice... I didn’t even need to pick my head up to know who had spoken. “This is Criminal Psychology and I am your instructor, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Professor Monroe could not cover this course so I’ll be his permanent replacement. Now…”

I raised my head, watching as he continued to talk about what is to be expected in this course while a TA handed out the syllabus. He went on, able to capture the attention of everyone while speaking of the experiences he had with an array of criminals. His eyes scanned the room and for a brief moment I thought they would land on me, but they continued to take in the mass amount of students before him.

My concentration was broken by Tony passing me a copy of the syllabus. I scanned it over, making sure to highlight all the important dates. I didn’t want any exams or projects conflicting with my work schedule. I also made note of how the overall grade system is broken down. The whole thing seems pretty fair and everything was spaced out enough where I wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with the workload.

“… and that pretty much wraps it up. Does anyone have any questions?” I tuned in just as he was pulling the first class to a close. No one raised their hands, so he dismissed us with a reminder to read the first chapter of the textbook and to check for any emails.

“So do you want to grab lunch?” Tony asked from beside me. I contemplated whether or not to go with him. He must have seen the hesitation in my face because he quickly added, “Not as a date or anything, I just wanted to grab a bite and I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Sure,” I smiled, “Let me just ask the professor a quick question about his office hours and I’ll meet you at the food court.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Tony gathered his stuff and exited the back door. 

I focused my attention on the podium, seeing a gaggle of girls surrounding him asking redundant questions. From what I could hear, their questions could have been answered if they’d read the syllabus. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were probably more focused on him rather than what he was saying during class. I waited a few more minutes for them to finish up before I made my way to him.

“So do I call you Doctor or Professor now?” I laughed. 

“From you, I’d respond to either,” he replied warmly. The comment made me blush. If he looked into my eyes at that moment, he’d see more stars in them than the night sky. I bit my lip to stop the idiotic grin from spreading across my face. 

He’s your professor, get a hold of yourself.

“How can I help?” he asked, bringing me back to the original reason as to why I was standing in front of him without a cash register between us. 

I cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if it was possible to see you outside your normal office hours? I usually work the morning shifts and I don’t want to flood your emails with my questions.” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You can come to my office at whatever time works best for you. I know balancing a work and school schedule can be hard. Besides, I’m usually there handling paperwork anyway.” He gave a small shrug, pushing his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the rest of the semester Professor Reid.” I liked the way his newfound honorific rolled off my tongue. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” With that, I left and headed out to meet Tony. 

I was able to find him at the food court. We got some food and chatted more about our classes as well as life outside of school. He made it easy to be his friend, and it was nice having someone to talk to. He works as a waiter so we shared our customer service horror stories and tales of sneaking food at work. It was a nice distraction that took my mind off of Dr. Reid and the ongoing battle of calling him Doctor or Professor. As Tony rambled, my mind wandered about other things I’d like to call Spencer instead. 

●●●

In that short span of two weeks, we already had an exam, an oral presentation, and a report on the psychoanalysis of serial killers. Not one day had been wasted, but this is what to be expected from a summer course. The essay was due the day before. Now we had to wait for our grades which gave us a moment to take a breath.

I was worried that my paper was subpar; especially since I chose to write about Andrei Chikatilo, a serial killer from Ukraine. He wasn’t as popular as those in America, so I ended up spending hours on deep research to find substantial information about his crimes. It also didn’t help that some of the original reports weren’t in English. I had worked hard, and hoped Professor Reid would see that, even if my writing could sometimes be a little weak. I was worried about the grade as our research papers held the weight of 20% of our final mark. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N! Anyone in there?” Hazel’s voice pierced through my worry bubble, her hand waving in front of my face. I shook my head, trying to focus on restocking the coffee beans.

“Sorry Haze, I’m thinking about this class.”

“Funny you say that; your favorite professor just walked in. Thought you might want to take his order.” She wagged her brows at me, making kissy faces as I hurried to the front register, trying my best to not let my eagerness be so glaringly obvious.

There he was, in his usual handsome glory, patiently waiting for me to take his order. He greeted me with a small smile that I happily returned.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you today?”

He debated for a moment before saying, “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.” I already had an in my head; it’d been a while since he asked me to make him a random drink so I’d had plenty of time to plan. We got an early shipment of ingredients for our fall-themed drinks and I figured he would appreciate some pumpkin spice in his caffeine. “How are the papers coming along?” I asked casually as I rang him up.

“Pretty well. I’m almost done, so you’ll all receive your grades later today.” Wow, that was fast. I wondered if he stayed up reading all those papers to be done by today. Probably not, a TA must have helped him.

“I am a bit nervous about mine, especially since it’s worth a huge part of our final grade.” I really wanted to get an A in this course, but it was hard juggling everything in such a short amount of time.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassured. “I haven’t properly finished yours yet but it looked great just from what I’ve seen thus far.” His words gave me a little reassurance.

“Thanks. I put a lot of effort into it. Let me grab your coffee now.” Spencer walked towards the pick-up station while I grabbed a venti cup for his drink. Just when I was about to make his order, I saw another familiar face come up to the register. “Tony, hey!” I shouted, placing the cup back down, “What can I get you?” 

This was the first time he’d been here, despite him saying for the past few days that he’d stop by for a visit, even with the promise of a cake pop if he did. It was nice to see another familiar face.

“Hey coffee girl, how you doin’ today?”

“Just peachy. My feet are killing me, though.” Just saying the words caused the ache on the soles of my feet to spike higher. I thanked my lucky stars I was almost done with this eight-hour shift.

“Give me the chance to sweep you off your feet, I promise you won’t regret it.” he offered boldly. It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about taking me out. I laughed, especially since he had a girlfriend. She met us for lunch one day and we became fast friends- she was an incredibly sweet and intelligent girl, polite and elegant as well. It is a wonder how his frat boy charm won her over but opposites attract, I guess.

“Shut up, Casanova. What are you gonna have?”

“I’ll have a grande iced matcha latte, please.” I should’ve known. He told me that he loves matcha flavored food and drinks the first time we grabbed lunch after class. He had complained that there was no good place to get one on campus. 

“Coming right up.” I quickly filled his order since it was faster to make compared to the pumpkin spiced latte. I handed him his bribe-cake pop, matcha flavor of course, while he waited for me to finish making his drink.

“By the way, we’re still studying at the library for the exam later tonight, right?” Tony asked.

“Yup, I’ll meet you at 8.”

“Copy that, see you later coffee girl.” He turned to leave while I turned to make Professor Reid’s order. I put extra whip cream and a bit more syrup to satiate his sweet tooth. I grabbed a fresh chocolate muffin from the display case and popped it into a bag for him as well, drawing yet another pun on the good doctors bag. “Thanks for being such a TEA-rrific professor!”

“Here ya’ go Doc,” I called out before placing his drink and muffin on the counter. I looked up to see him no longer smiling. “Is everything okay?”

Ignoring my question, he said, “I wasn’t aware you were so close to Mr. Montgomery.”

“Oh yeah, we study together once in a while.” I could have sworn I saw his frown deepen before his features became void of any emotions. He shifted his eyes downward, his hand moving rapidly to grab the cup.

“I should get going.”

“Oh, okay” Before I could say goodbye, he was already halfway out the door. 

That was weird. I looked at the counter and noticed that he left the cupcake behind. Maybe he was in a rush?

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on making it through the last couple of hours of work. 

●●●

I made my way to the classroom, smiling at Tony as he pulled out my seat for me. Professor Reid walked in a few minutes later, his tall figure drawing all the attention to the center of the small stage. He let us know he already graded the papers and that they would be distributed by the TA before the end of class. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach but decided to brush it off and pay attention in class. Despite my attempts to focus on his lecture, I found my mind wandering every so often anyway.

I couldn’t help but think he was less animated today. Usually, he taught with such passion that the class couldn’t take their eyes off him. But today, it felt as if we were all in a boring seminar with an ancient professor. Tony kept glancing at the clock, probably also wondering why time felt like it was going by so slowly. 

I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling the entire class. It didn’t help matters that every time I would raise my hand to answer a question, he would call on another student. What the hell did I do? 

I decided to tune out the rest of the class. There is no point in being an actively engaged student if I wasn’t going to get treated like one. I’d just get the notes from Tony later.

Thirty minutes before the end of class, the TA handed out our essays while Professor Reid wrapped. 

“Some of you did very well, while a few others struggled with the assignment.” His eyes landed on mine as he said that. It was the first time he had glanced in my direction the whole class. He moved on to the other side of the room. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. “If you have any questions you can see me at my office hours next week or send me an email. You are dismissed.”

The TA finally made his way over to me, handing my essay in a slight fold. I looked at the grade on top and almost dropped the paper. My heart sped up as I stared at the letter in bright red ink. No way, no way this could be my report. I looked at the right-hand corner and saw my name at the top. I read through the first page and saw they were indeed my words.

How the fuck was it possible that I got a D on this paper? I knew my writing wasn’t the strongest, but a D? 

“How you’d do?” Tony asked. For a moment I forgot I was in a room with other people.

I cleared my throat, trying to relive the lump so that he didn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Umm, not what I expected. I’m going to try to speak to him about it.” Tony was a smart kid, so I was sure he could see how tense I was. Luckily he didn’t question me any further and instead told me he’d text me later before leaving the classroom.

Fortunately, there were no other students in the classroom to slow me down this time. I walked right up to the podium, watching as Professor Reid placed some papers in his satchel. 

“Professor, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, I’m busy,” he replied, not even bothering to glance in my direction. This can’t be real. The sweet, kind Doc could not be the man acting like a total asshole right now.

“I really need to discuss with you my paper,” I pressed, raising my voice a little louder in an attempt to get his attention. That was wishful thinking on my part since he continued to fiddle with his satchel.

“I said I’m busy,” he uttered once again, his voice void of any emotion. He was about to walk past me, ignoring my whole being. His blatant disregard made my cheeks burn, and not in the usual way they usually did when I was around him.

“Spencer,” I barked, “We need to talk. Now.” For a few moments, he stood in front of me, his back facing my direction.

I was about to speak again before I heard him say, “My office. Half an hour.” He exited, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. The only things keeping me company were the fuming feelings swirling inside me and the failed paper clutched at my fist. 

●●●

I knocked on his office door ten minutes earlier than he’d told me. The anger in my gut brewed hotter the longer I waited. As soon as I heard a “Come in,” I rushed through the door, slamming it behind me. He regarded me coolly, but didn’t comment on my actions. 

“What can I do for you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” I walked up to his large desk, not bothering to take a seat in the chair in front of me. I took a moment to calm myself down before replying.

“Well, you can start by explaining to me why I got such a low score on my paper.” I guess he didn’t like being the only one of us sitting down because he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

“It did not meet the requirements for a passing grade as outlined in the rubric. The information given was boring and the overall topic was uninteresting. It was tedious to get through,” he responded nonchalantly, like he was giving me a weather report.  

“You said that you enjoyed it so far.” I rebutted, placing my hands on the desk. I needed something to offer me stability so that I wasn’t visibly shaking.  

“I’d mistaken your work for another student’s. Maybe Mr. Montgomery,” he dryly clipped.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I put the puzzle together. Was- was he serious? Was this man acting like this because of Tony? The audacity! The laugh that bubbled from my lips must have unsettled him. He left his position from the wall in favor of standing in front of me.

“You want to know what I think?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing, “I think you’re jealous that I have another guy that isn’t you getting friendly with me at the shop and because of your inability to keep your---“

“That is enough,” he grounded out, shaking his head. But I didn’t stop talking.

“--private feelings away from your professional ones, you decided to give me a failing grade. Do you know how hard I worked in-” my voice rose up higher and higher until I was yelling.

“I said that’s enough,” he said again, louder this time. But I wasn’t done.

“-this class? This is my life, my fucking future on the line. I’ve told you how important this all is to me and you don’t even give a shit! You’re going to let your interpretation of my relationship with another student influence the way you do your job? And here I thought you were a decent man, Professor.” I hissed, “Do you even give a damn abo-”

“Enough,” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk and caging me against the wood. His breathing was matching the upbeat pace of my own. His quick movement and the sheer volume of his voice caught me off guard, effectively silencing me. 

“I don’t deserve to be punished over your envy,” I whispered, locking eyes with him in a steady gaze.

“You want to see a real punishment, darling?” he hissed, the heat of his words almost breaking my glare, his breath fanning along my face.

We stared at one another for a while, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The tension between us kept rising and rising until the inevitable happened. I couldn’t be sure who made the first move but before I knew it, our lips collided with a mix of rage and desperation. My arms draped around his neck as he pressed me on to the desk. He placed his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up high enough until I was perched on the cool wooden surface.

Spencer’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh way he was kissing me. His tongue parted my lips, gliding over mine with fervor. I couldn’t help but moan as he rolled his hips into me. He continued his rough grind, keeping my legs open as we moved as close together as our bodies would allow. He overwhelmed my senses- the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything was making me absolutely feral for this man. 

I never expected the gentle Dr. Reid to be so fervent, so sensual. The kindhearted, sweet professor who regularly drank his weight in caffeine never gave me this impression. But then again, I’m sure he was shocked by my attitude as well. He knew me as the friendly, bubbly barista, now student, who enjoyed his class. He was about to meet a whole new side of me, just like I was going to for him.

Spencer pulled away from me, our mouths making an audible ‘pop’ sound from the sudden separation. I tried to catch my breath as he stared at me, our chests rising and falling together. If I were to move a bit closer to him, we would be touching once again.

He took a few steps back before motioning me to step in front of him. “I want you to get down on your knees. Now.” I wasn’t going to argue with him, mainly because I wanted the exact same thing he did. I kneeled down, keeping my eyes on his face.

“You going to shut me up, Professor?” I teased, feeling powerful, even though he was looming over me. He didn’t reply, just continued to look down on me with those honey colored eyes- full of lust and rage.

I watched as he slowly placed his hands on his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons. He drew down his pants and boxers at the same time, just low enough to reveal his impressive size. My mouth salivated at the sight of his bulge as he came closer to me.

“We’re going to put that smart mouth to better use. Open.” He said, gripping my face between his fingers, forcing me to follow his orders. I opened my mouth slightly, not giving him exactly what he wanted. Instead of ordering my mouth to open further like I expected, he placed his thumb inside. He pushed the digit deep, pressing it against my tongue. I moaned around the finger, softly nibbling at the skin. He continued to slide his finger within my mouth before dragging it out completely. He wiped the excess spit on my cheek before lightly smacking it. The small shock of pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Open, and do it right this time.”

I obeyed, opening wide enough to accept him into my mouth. My lips were stretched almost uncomfortably in an attempt to fit around him. He was so hot and thick, I couldn’t help but hum at the taste of him on my tongue. The soft “fuck” that fell from his lips had me purring around him. I went to place my hands on the remaining portion that couldn’t fit, but he batted them away.

“You’re using only your mouth.” 

Fine, have it your way, Sir. 

I placed my hands behind me as I bobbed my head, hallowing my cheeks with every rise. His shallow thrusts encouraged me to suck harder. I slowly pulled away to run my tongue against the vein protruding on the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with a groan escaping his lips.

“I should have known that you would be so good at this, darling,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he tried to control his grunts.

I made sure to look in his eyes as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. The face he made was purely angelic. The muscles of his neck protruded more evidently and his breathing became more labored. I placed him back in my mouth, this time taking my time to go down on him.

“That’s right, Princess. Show me what a good girl you are for me.” He moaned as I felt his hands weave in my hair before he pushed my head down on to him, causing me to gag around him, tears pricking my eyes. He continued his thrusts into my mouth, barely allowing me a chance to breathe. My nose repeatedly touched the base of him as I swallowed around his hard length.

Spencer tightened his fingers in my hair and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.  The pace was brutal, but I enjoyed the rough treatment. Knowing that I was the one making him feel good was such a turn on. He buried himself deep in my throat after a few more thrusts to finish. I swallowed his release like the greedy brat that we both now knew I was.

He eventually pulled out, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. I swiped the back off my hand across my mouth to clean off any leftover spit and cum.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

I did so, rubbing the ache in my knees as I slowly rose. “I want you bent over the desk,” he continued.

“I want you to answer my previous question.” I quipped.

“You’re not in the position to be making commands,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers in my hair again, pulling just roughly enough so that I was looking up at his face. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest bending over my desk before I stuff my cock in that bratty little mouth of yours again.”

He released me, eyes still on my face waiting for me to follow through on his order. I turned to his desk and did as he asked, bending over the wood until my chest laid flat against the surface. I waited as patiently as I could for him. It felt as if I was in this position for an eternity before he touched me. He pushed both my underwear and skirt down to my knees before placing his hands on my hips. I heard it before I felt it- the smack on my ass that caused me to yelp.

“Fuck, Spencer. What the—” I was cut off with another resounding smack.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to give you a real punishment, darling?” I took a deep breath as another shiver went down my spine. He had no business sounding so hot right now. Another smack, this time on my opposite cheek, had me biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“This” *SMACK* “Is” *SMACK* “What” *SMACK* “Happens” *SMACK* “To” *SMACK* “Bratty” *SMACK* “Little” *SMACK* “Girls” *SMACK*. A sob ripped from my chest as the last blow landed. My ass was on fire and surely littered with his hand prints.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood since you sucked me off so nicely, or I would have made that worse.”

Gee, thanks.

“You look like such a dirty slut like this.” I felt a finger enter me easily, the wetness gathered there making my entrance ready to take him. “So wet. Was it the spanking that got you like this, or your mouth around my cock?” A moan was my only reply as he added another finger, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion. 

“Are you gonna be my sweet girl, now?” He asked as I moved my hips along his fingers, desperately trying to seek some more relief for the fire burning between my thighs as his mouth littered marks along my thighs. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me as he curled his fingers, a slow moan falling from my lips. He pulled them out of me, wiping the slickness against my still burning ass. Fucking bastard. I wiggled my hips against him, hoping he would grant me a reprieve and put his fingers back inside me. Instead, he spanked my ass one more time- one quick, sharp blow against the bruised cheek.

Just when I was about to yell at him, he placed the head of his member against my entrance. He moved up and down my drenched entrance before penetrating me in one full thrust. I took a short breath in, trying to get used to feeling so full. He was stretching me out in the most amazing way.

Spencer waited until I was grinding against him before he pulled out and pushed back into me. “Look at you, such a wanton little bitch aren’t you?” He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop fucking me.

He kept a steady pace, making sure to grind into me every time he slammed back in. The obscene sound of our skin smacking against one another’s and the moans escaping our throats was an erotic symphony that had my body heat raising the temperature in the room.

He hitched my leg on top of the desk, entering in an angle that made the pleasure so much better. I couldn’t stop the whines that kept escaping my mouth every time he pounded into me. His hand stayed upon my leg, holding me down and limiting my movements. His nails dug into the skin so harshly I was sure there would be bruises left in their wake.  

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he hissed under his breath. “Should have known you just needed to be fucked like the cheap whore you are.” He sped up, hips snapping at an almost punishing pace. The desk creaked every time he slammed into me. I hoped no one was nearby to hear what was going on. A whine left my throat when I felt his fingers rub against my clit. I was so close now.

“Should I stay inside you? Fill you up so you walk around campus carrying my child?” He growls, his pace increasing with each passing moment. “Knock you up so the whole campus knows what a whore you are for me?” He asks, earning a cry ripped from my throat. 

“Who’s fucking you?” he grunted. I don’t know how he expected me to form a coherent statement at this current moment. My eyes could barely stay open at this point. 

“Spencer, please.” He smacked the outside of my thigh.

“Try again, who’s fucking you?” 

“You are, Doctor.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer too, because it earned me another smack on my thigh. I had tears streaming down my face from the pleasurable pain he was giving me.

“You have one more chance or else I’m not letting you come. Now, who’s is fucking you?”

“Professor Reid!” I cried out.

“That’s right darling. Now come on my cock.” A harsh bite on my neck was the ultimate push that had me seeing stars. Spencer thrusted a few more times before fully sheathing himself within me.

He slumped over me, the feel of his breath against my neck causing me to shiver once more. We took a moment to have the high leave our body before he pulled out of me, a gasp leaving the both of us. Spencer was the first to break the silence between us.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, his voice a bit shy. 

I giggled at his demeanor. A few moments ago, he was fucking me senseless and spanking me over his desk like a porno, and now he was asking me out to dinner. 

“Absolutely,” I smiled. “But I should probably cancel my study plans.” I quickly added. 

He led me to the faculty bathroom so I could freshen myself up. When I emerged, he was back to being the prim and proper professor I knew him to be. Just before we left his office, he leaned down and whispered, “By the way, you got an A.”

[vivvyinvienna]

Dad!Draco admiring you with the baby and toddler

baby, baby (draco malfoy)

A/N: heyo! Back again w Dad!Draco, who i am an absolute sucker for. I had to google “how to play with a baby” before writing bc i don’t rly understand children. To the nonny who requested, i hope you enjoy xoxo

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Dad!Draco has to take a couple of sick days from work but that also means he gets to spend more time with his beloved family. Fluff :))

Warnings: unedited, baby scorp cuteness, mentions of pregnancy, stomach flu?

----------

When Draco started rousing from his nap, it was already late in the afternoon. His body’s natural inclination to turn towards his wife took over despite his still dozing mind. After being married to Y/N for seven years and sleeping in the same bed for even longer, every time he woke up Draco felt this physical yearning for the warmth and intimacy that only being intertwined with her could provide. But today, he was disappointed. The cold sheets to his left brought him fully out of his sleep-induced haze.

Once Draco was fully awake, he used the bearing magic that was embedded into the intricate blood wards of their family home to locate his wife and child. It only took a second before he knew that Y/N and Scorpius were in the living room. Normally he wasn’t one to nap for hours while making his wife be solely responsible for their son, but Draco was still recovering from an exceptionally brutal stomach flu. He had stayed home from work for the last three days, trading his job at Malfoy Inc for saltine crackers, stomach cramps, heating pads, and an overzealous number of bathroom trips.

He stood up from the bed and padded out of the room in search of his family. When he neared the entrance of the rosy-tinted living room, he was graced by the sound of his child giggling and his wife idly talking. Standing in the doorway, he breathed in the sight of the two people who he loved with every inch of his battered heart. The floor-length French windows were slightly ajar, letting in the breeze of summer and the scent of peaches. The sunset coming in painted the room with the blush of a rose petal and the bloom of sedation. 

You were sitting on the creme-colored couch, bouncing Scorpius on your knees. He had just turned one-year-old a couple of weeks ago, and already he was starting to lose some of his chunky baby fat which you and Draco both adored. But he was still the cutest baby in your eyes, with or without his chubby baby legs. With his cherub cheeks, bright eyes, and wispy tufts of the distinct Malfoy hair, no other baby could compare. You sat with your back facing the doorway, so you didn’t notice Draco until Scorpius started squirming away from you and let out a very enthusiastic “Da! Dada!” 

Draco let out a jovial laugh when he saw the big toothy grin on his son’s face. He immediately held out his arms to steal Scorp from his mother. 

“Hey buddy!” Draco responded to him with the same amount of energy. “What have you been up to today?” He talked to Scorp like an adult, treating his noises as real answers. 

Scorpius babbled. 

“Oh really? You know, I took a pretty good nap too today.”

More babbling. 

“Well, why don’t we go to the pond tomorrow?”

Scorpius continued.

“Of course buddy, it’ll be warm out tomorrow.”

He moved to sit down next to you, giving you a pillowy kiss and wrapping the arm that wasn’t holding a toddler around you. Draco couldn’t help but stare. The fading sunshine glowed upon you with romantic affection. You were ethereal to him. He looked at you the way every girl dreamed of being looked at. And the depth of his eyes held promises. Promises that there was no one in the world he would rather see and be with than you. 

“Hey mama,” his soft words reverberated with the utmost tenderness.

This time you leaned over to kiss him. As your lips touched his, he felt a murmur of enchantment somewhere in his body. It felt a bit like healing and a bit like elation, but he was too peaceful to bother pinpointing. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart? Is your stomach still hurting?” you were still concerned over his health despite him looking much better than before he went to nap. 

“I feel better, I think it’s run its course,” he answered matter-a-factly. 

Your conversation remained brief because Scorpius let out a whine. Probably because neither of his parents was giving him attention.

You turned your attention to your son. You danced your fingers on his cheeks, making him let out a precious giggle. As Draco watched, he felt the bells of sunshine ring in his heart, a feeling only explicable by the child in his arms and wife at his side. 

The two of you moved to the floor of the couch and continued to play with Scorp. It wasn’t before long though when he decided that his favorite ferret stuffed animal was more entertaining than his parents and crawled away to play with it. With Scorp occupied, Draco decided this was the perfect time to talk to you about something he’d been ruminating over.

“I have something to talk to you about,” he started. 

You took in an over-exaggerated gasp, “Are you breaking up with me?” you said with no real distress. 

He went along with you, “That’s actually the second thing I want to talk to you about.”

“Ok well, what’s the first?”

He took in a deep breath, as if slightly nervous. “I think I want to step down from Malfoy Inc for a little while and spend more time at home with you two.” 

You turned to fully face him. You were elated at the possibility but a bit hesitant in case he hadn’t fully thought it through yet.

“I’d love to have you home more, I’m sure Scorp does too,” you paused, “but you love your job.”

“But I love you guys more. A lot more actually,” there was no wavering in his affirmation. 

“You won’t get bored being at home all day?” you pushed a bit more. 

“I was planning on picking up some of my old alchemy projects. And you remember all the notebooks Severus left me?” 

You did.

“I think it’d be good to finish some of his potions research.”

You agreed. 

“I’ve honestly been thinking about stepping down for a while and being at home these last three days just really reminded me of how much I miss every day. He’s growing up so fast. And I miss being home with you and Scorp.”

“I miss having you home too, I miss you all the time.” You almost laughed at how clingy you sounded. “So if you want to step down, I won’t be the one to stop you.”

He gave you that smile, the one that was reserved only for you. “I guess I’m quitting my job,” he sounded nonchalant but the excitement was obvious in the smile lines of his eyes. 

“One stomach flu and you’re ready to quit your job. I’d hate to see what a migraine does to you,” you teased.

“Shut up,” he feigned offense. “Merlin, Y/N I threw up so much I finally understand how you felt when you were pregnant.”

You gave him a questionable look. “For some reason, I doubt it.” The room filled with Draco’s laughter again. 

“Speaking of pregnancy…” he shifted closer to you, slowly gliding his large hand onto your belly. “I want to put another baby in here.”

“You are just full of ideas today.” He was about to open his mouth to persuade you further, when you continued, “But I can’t say that’s a bad one.”

A boyish grin took his face. 

Then, taking you both by surprise, a loud grumble came from Draco’s midsection. You both stilled and looked at each other for a couple of seconds before he groaned and started whining. Pulling his hand away from your belly, he moved to cradle his own. And you laughed, you laughed an absurd, charming little laugh because you couldn’t get over how Draco’s whining sounded exactly like Scorpius’.

[nevertheless-moving]

Unnamed Extremely Bad Plan to Defeat Darth Sideous AU - SW AU NO 9

Hopefully writing down this star wars au will help me exorcise the cringe demon that helped midwife it. Time travel au where obi-wan and Anakin come up with an extremely SPECIFIC and UNCOMFORTABLE plan to defeat Palpatine because it unfortunately, would actually work, as it capitalizes on one of Palpatine’s easiest to reach political vulnerabilities. This is not a unique plan- there are other au’s like this, but this one is mine. When searching for ways to explain exactly why this anti-sith strategy inspires such cringe and delight in myself I realized, with sinking dread, I have seen this in an Always Sunny episode...which yeah. I might be over reacting but hey, cringe is a personal phenomenon, everyone’s different.

Anyway! Uh here’s a bunch of plot that will eventually culminate in the plan. 

*Too much plot, aaaah*. **All plot actually.** ***Its 1 am and this is still a draft*** ****It’s 2am**** *****This post will be just be background I guess.*****

*******STAR WARS AU NO 9 LAZILY OUTLINED CHAPTER ONE*********

Force ghosts Darth Vader and Ben Kenobi have had time to yell at one another without need for breath, and have more-or-less come to terms with the trainwreck that was their shared life. I wouldn’t call them well adjusted, but they’re more stable then they were the last decade or so of their living existence. 

In haunting Luke, they end up encountering an artifact in an ancient Willis temple that offers spirits the chance to fix the mistakes they made in life. It doesn’t truly unwrite what’s been done, but it lets you create an alternate timeline. So this galaxy will still be what it is, but some alternate galaxy somewhere could at least have it better. Its almost never been used, because becoming one with the force usually lets you accept the past, but viewed objectively, Vader and Ben’s lives involved an extreme amount of yikes. They say goodbye to Luke and are flung backwards and sideways.

Anakin is holding his mother as she dies. Obi-Wan is landing on Genosis. 

Vader just barely manages to avoid slaughtering the tuskens. To be honest, he doesn’t really get why he shouldn’t- his moral compass is still pretty f-ed up. He’s fairly certain the force is just torturing him, but still he controls himself (for Padme for Luke for Leia).

I’m gonna say well-adjusted!Vader sees murder in general as more of a vice than a sin- on par with having a beer. And really well adjusted Vader is willing to admit to himself that he’s an alcoholic, he seriously cannot regulate, its a problem. He really can’t let himself go, because he’ll just end up spiraling. And so he restrains himself and only seriously maims a few of the adult raiders.

Vader figures he can always come back later and slowly torture them to death if this whole ‘save the future’ thing doesn’t pan out.

Obi-wan leaves his shuttle and hides under a rock for 30 minutes. He calculates thats just enough time for him to pretend he went on an extremely effective and sneaky fact finding mission- just in case anyone checks R4′s records. Gets back in shuttle and gets the fuck out of there, much to Dooku’s chagrin, who lost sight of him after the shuttle landed and is now going to have to switch to one of his alternate start-the-war plans. 

On the flight back he reports everything to the council- fallen Dooku and the separatist leaders, the trade federation and the massive droid army, Jango Fett the clone template of the republic army (?) working for the separatists. He briefly comms Anakin, but anyone hacking into their conversations would hear only a nonsensical, rambling conversation. Later, a hacker might turn over the idea that they were speaking in elaborate code, but why would Jedi invent such a thing during peacetime?

The war still starts; at this point in the timeline it was inevitable; the artifact was only designed to give them the chance to correct their own failings, not the galaxy’s. Palpatine still gets his emergency powers. 

The same day the armies are discovered, separatist war ships take off to engulf Ryloth. The Jedi are instructed by the senate to lead the clone army and provide immediate relief-this will not be a repeat of the republic’s inaction on Naboo. It’s both better and worse than the first Battle of Genosis. So many more civilians are caught in the crossfire. The first titanic battle is not contained to evacuated droid factories, but rages across an entire populated world. The battle lasts for weeks.

The main reason this fight is less deadly is solely due to the fact that General Kenobi manages to maneuver his way into high command of the entire army.

 “I believe assumptions were made since I was the first point of contact with Kamino, Masters,” the Knight explained apologetically to the arriving high council members. “I realize its not quite appropriate, but for right now I am the Jedi most familiar with our forces and the enemies. I would, of course, prefer to cede the role to someone else.” 

The assembled Jedi can feel the truth in that statement.

“For better or for worse, advance troops were directed by the senate to land planetside and have met heavy resistance. I managed to redirect them to a more defensible position, where they can provide surface based cover fire for incoming reinforcements. The battle has already begun.” He received a grim nod of approval from Master Windu.

“I feel the need to say now, that if there’s one thing I learned from my time as a general on Melida/Dann, or in working against Death Watch on Mandalore, its that having a clear chain of command is vital for a military to succeed. I don’t need to remind some of you that leadership breakdowns were what ultimately ended both the Stark Hyperspace War and the Yinchorri Crisis,” Masters Koon and Tiin exchanged looks before deliberately sending forth a small force wave of approval, understanding where this briefing was leading. 

“I believe that unnecessarily restructuring command before the battle is won here could do far more harm than good.” The reminder of Obi-wan’s unusually militaristic apprenticeship put some of the assembled knights at ease even as it inspired a twinge of guilt in the older masters. 

“In command you are, General Kenobi,” Master Yoda finally acknowledged. “A Jedi Master you will be, once done this battle is. Have us do, what would you?” 

The battle lasts for weeks, and when its over, the commanding Jedi and Troopers involved will openly acknowledge that had anyone else been in command, it would’ve lasted months, if not years. Facing down logistical, strategic, and tactical problems on a scale unheard of for a thousand years, High General Kenobi does not falter.

Enemy reinforcements seem unending. For all their preparation, every single trooper is new to war, and secretly concerned that should they fall, they will be replaced with cadets who hadn’t even finished their training.

Obi-Wan is putting out fires before they can start. Much to their shock, clone commanders are informed that they will, for the time being, remain in charge of their troops. With a handful of exceptions, Jedi ‘Generals’ were in fact, to be treated as a cross between highly skilled commandoes and advisors with abnormally sourced field intelligence. 

“All of you have spent your lives training to lead your brothers into combat. The Jedi Masters and knights who are being assigned to your divisions have not received such training.” 

General Kenobi addressed the division commanders, some in person, some over holocomm. All focused in rapt attention as their General reordered the shape of their lives using language they could understand.

“The command structure I am issuing is designed to maximize our ability to utilize our respective strategic capabilities, while minimizing potential loss of your life. It will be our great privilege to serve alongside such an army, and while I fully expect a complementary exchange of knowledge in time, for now, focus on survival.”

The Jedi received similar briefings, tailored for their broader array of combat and military experience. Some, including Jedi Master Pong Krell and Grandmaster Yoda, were pulled aside and tasked with the essential mission of infiltrating and destroying the Droid factories on Genosis. If they were to have a chance of winning this war, they they would need to cut off the seemingly unceasing flow of droid reinforcements. 

An elite squadron of Arctroopers and Jedi field operatives were covertly dispatched, Grandmaster Yoda himself in command. Considering Count Dooku had yet to appear anywhere near Ryloth...the grandmaster had the best chance of bringing in the fallen separatist leader alive for questioning.

Shortly after they left, Anakin arrived, having finally turned over Padme’s protection to her regular guard. With the military creation vote past, the assassination risk was considered minimal. The real delay in his arrival came from her repeated attempts to join the Grand Army of the Republic on Ryloth with the intent of coordinating humanitarian assistance. Eventually he managed to convince her that she could do more good in the senate. 

After all, he pointed out, someone would need to followup the military creation act with a bill to grant clones equal citizen rights. Otherwise, the legal grey area that cloning fell under and their non-republic origin would inadvertently make the clones slaves. 

His borrowed Nabooan cruiser entered the warzone with the grace and efficiency as a small neutron bomb.

Those close enough to see its flaming descent watched in horror, realizing that the high generals own padawan would likely be a war casualty before he ever engaged in combat.

The legion nearest to soon-to-be-ground-zero, under the command of Captain Rex of the 501st, were distracted by heated combat, as the temporary barricade they had put up to defend the civilian population gave way to droidika artillery. 

While reloading, several dozen troopers happened to look up to see a speck detach itself from the hull as at spiraled in the lower atmosphere. Hope spread that the Jedi had managed to activate some sort of eject hatch. A skilled shocktrooper could probably control and and survive such a fall with luck, which mean a Jedi almost certainly could. 

A few tactical scouts charged with watching the skies confirmed that the speck was indeed a humanoid. No chute was visible, but even 8 days into the war, rumors had already spread about how Master Windu had passed off his chute mid-air to a troopers who had been damaged by suppressing fire, cushioning his free fall solely with the tank he crushed upon landing. 

Only one trooper, stationed in the town clock tower specifically to track the Padawan’s arrival and issued with a high-resolution farscope, saw the whole thing. Fortunately for his credibility later, in its current setting, the scope automatically logged photos every 5 seconds, ensuring that for years to come Obi-Wan would have a flipbook as evidence that he was not the crazy one.

CT-3609 or Blink (as he was named after winning the division wide staring contest on Kamino two year prior) forwarded the trajectory of the vehicle to command, who confirmed his analysis that it would impact two clicks out from their makeshift fort and not present a risk to civilian or trooper lives. 

As it traversed the stratosphere a figure (desperate repair droid, Blink assumed) emerged from the cockpit to perch on the nose of the ship. As it entered the troposphere, it became painfully obvious that the figure jutting out from the hull of the ship was in fact not a humanoid droid, but an unarmored human. The Jedi stood on the prow of the ship, seemingly impervious to and oblivious of:

air resistance 

centrifugal force

normal space gravity 

Blink’s slack-jawed bewilderment

the flames engulfing the ship below him

At this range, the smirk on the man’s face was visible (man? boy? kriff is he even through puberty?). Several miles above the surface he leaped, diving towards the ground like a bird of prey. 

To the west, the ship made impact with the ground, sending a shockwave that shook the tower just enough for Blink to lose visual in the final moments of descent. Cursing, as while he was confident the Jedi would inexplicably survive, he really wanted to see how. The trooper scanned the droid-engulfed farmland to the north for a crash site, to no avail. Lingering smoke from the burnt countryside negatively impacted visibility low to the ground.

Rather than trying to articulate his report into words, he sent the 50-odd frames the farscope had saved, as well as the coordinates for the jedi’s projected radius of touchdown. A quick radio over to long range electro-ballistics ensured that his landing wouldn’t be marred by friendly fire.

He awaited follow-up questions on the absurd entry method, which, when they came, mostly consisted of variations on “...Is this for real?” and eventually “Can you set the scope to video for a little while?” and finally “Do you think that’s how he got the name Skywalker?”

There was a temporarily lull in fire from the west, likely a ripple effect from the ship’s explosion. From his vantage point Blink could see his batchmates using the opportunity to try and plug the holes in their barricade with broken droid pieces. Regardless of the itch to join them, he knew he couldn’t leave his post until the Jedi actually arrived in camp. Finally, a distant explosion and thick pillar of smoke gave the Jedi’s position away.

He tried to make out details, but the scope had a difficult time focusing through the haze. Manually trying to fine tune the scope’s settings, Blink caught a glimpse of what looked like half a hover tank sailing through the air to impact with a trade federation troop carrier in a fiery explosion. Several more explosions, flying droid artillery, and plumes of smoke were caught on record before visual contact with the source was established. He was mostly visible as a blue blur, lightsaber mowing a meandering path towards their location. 

It wasn’t until Skywalker braced himself in place to punch a droidaka into pieces that Blink caught actual sight of the man. Only his eyes were visible, nose and mouth covered by layers of cloth. He blurred, then reappeared on top a massive missile launcher attached to an absurdly heavily armored vehicle. A minute or so of rapid blue flashes passed, the longest he had seen concentrated in one area. Then Skywalker was gone, movement clearly visible as he for once he moved in a straight line, plowing a rapid path away from the launcher. 

Less than 30 seconds later, Blink had to wince away from the scope, as a burning white explosion temporarily overwhelmed the direct light filter. The trooper panicked for a moment, thinking he had gone both deaf and blind, but the abrupt, sucking silence ended after a moment with a deafening sonic boom. The shockwave rattled the farscope, nearly knocking it over, but Blink managed to steady it and himself in time. 

A cheer emerged from pleasantly surprised vod below. The entire droid legion that had been guarding the missile launcher and apparent ordinance bay was flattened. 

It took a moment for the realization to set in that the background noise of missile and and anti-missile collisions directly overhead had slowed pace. With the northern flank gone, artillery were able to redouble efforts to the east, and a second white hot shockwave ensued, signaling that the tide of battle had shifted. It was almost too easy for the republics electro-ballistics to tactically devastate the surrounding forces. 

Eventually some sort of win/loss programming must have set in and all forces outside of a certain radius began retreating southward, conceding the scorched land to the republic army. It was cadets work to clean up the final suicidal droid charge. 

A commotion ensued as Skywalker leapt the barricade with a mid-air flip. The vod greeted him with cheers, as they correctly assumed his appearance had something to do with the skirmish’s decisive victory.

Blink sent the video of the battle to command and quickly packed up his scope and assorted equipment. Hurrying down the battered tower, Blink thought to himself that this Anakin Skywalker was the best sort of Jedi a trooper could ask for.

uh sorry i got really sidetracked there moving on

Kenobi and Skywalker quickly become the face of the war once again

they grit their teeth a bit, but when they finally have a moment to really plan they eventually agree that to take down Sideous they have to cut off his political power in addition to everything else, and taking advantage of their public personas was the most accessible way to do so (*evil laughter*)

While Dooku wasn’t captured, Yoda heard the truth in his old student’s cryptic warnings about a Sith in the Senate, and the council begins carefully editing their release of tactical plans to the Chancellor’s office in the hopes of ferreting out the spy in their midst.

Pong Krell looses two arms in his duel with Dooku. Obi-Wan successfully hides his smug pleasure at the news. Anakin enjoys makeing comparisons between him and Grievous. 

Kenobi doesn’t allow the origin of the clones to go unexamined, although he agrees that if the public were informed that they don’t actually know who ordered them it would probably cause panic.

The ‘inhibitor chips’ are ‘discovered’ early on and Anakin leads the effort to ensure that they are phased out and removed immediately. This consists of reminding every Jedi who even hesitates about how how he as a child slave had some experience with control chips and unless you want to take a leaf out of the hutts books lets start doing brain surgery chop chop mmmkay?

(This isn’t to say that Vader doesn’t still a twinge of shame at acknowledging his slave roots. But it is eclipsed by the burning guilt that he knowingly acted as slave master to his troops for decades after Sideous wiped their minds. He tried to rationalize it to himself, after all he didn’t immediately understand what Order 66 had done to the troopers. But while the morality of murder was more of an intellectual concern than a personal one, treating people as things...)

The Kamonions are a little harder to budge, referencing contracts that they refuse to allow the Jedi to see

Finally Vader snuck into the Chief Medical Scientist’s home while she was sleeping and straight-up threatened to murder her and burn down her lab. At the risk of losing her life’s work, Nala Se complied.

Vader left with the final threat that in the event that Darth Tyranus caught wind and activated Order 66 prematurely, he would kill 100 Kamonians for every Jedi felled by troopers. Shaak Ti was pleased by the cloners sudden change of heart. Tyrannus, and by extension, Sideous, are in the dark. 

Obi-Wan frequently publicly confronts Palpatine about the troops citizen status, urging him make use of his emergency powers to grant them citizenship and full pay, with the option to leave the army should they so wish. 

Anakin manages to play off his avoidance of the Chancellor as disappointment in his perceived lack of dedication to anti-slavery efforts

Finally Palpatine gives in- regardless of what happens next, the troops will be looked after.

With 2/3rds of the troopers dechipped, Vaderkin is eager to kill Sideous again, but after several intense screaming matches and sparring sessions, the time travelers come to the agreement that even if they succeed in their duel, with things as they were, the perception of the Jedi military coop would cause mass civil unrest. The scattered sith apprentices, while individually weak, were more than capable of magnifying that fear and anger until the galaxy breaks. Darth Sideous wanted to ensure that if he couldn’t have the galaxy, no one would. 

(Vader knows this. Sideous enjoyed monologuing, and much of his plotting couldn’t be safely bragged about until after he had decisively won, leaving Vader as the unwilling receptacle for years of pent-up rants and self-satisfied gloats about the inevitability of his victory)

Continued Here

[sjw-publishings]

A Le’Silver Lining

Based on a story from Midas Touch, by @dumb-and-jocked

“Finish up pronto, or you’re fired.”

Aden sighed, he really wanted to get that promotion, the next step up the corporate ladder, but because of some desperate plea of a ‘millennial-life crisis’, he ended up revealing to his incredibly hot Boss...hoping he had been closeted this entire time.

He was wrong.

Recalling the many words and verbal insults from the strict CEO, it was far from a ‘privilege’ throughout these past few years.

And to be paid a similar wage while handling this douchebag’s laundry is just the icing on the cake.

All he wanted to do was to head towards the top with a faithful partner, but instead his arrogant boss reduced him to some laundry ‘boy’. He was in his mid 20s and treated like some joke.

“This is humiliating!”

Stuffing in the last few piles of clothes, he grumbled, but not too loud just in case his boss spied on him. Turning on the laundry machine as it whirled, done for the day...though not for long knowing how unreasonable that homophobe was.

Folding his arms, pocketing the white gloves he had to wear. As the douche puts it, ‘so he won’t catch the gay’. He rubbed his palms all over his youthful face, trying to contain himself from tearing over his demotion a couple of hours ago, hoping there will be a way to get some power back.

*Shone*

From the corner of his eye came a glint of something shiny, alone at the corner of the clothes basket was a singular watch, which was without a doubt very costly.

Not like his boss’s that shone gold, but rather one of silver. ‘A promising shine...yet dull’. One of the many insults that alpha would arrogantly scoff at him.

“Better polish this before he starts complaining about it.”

As he said that, he grabbed a cloth that appeared to his side and began polishing the accessory. Not realising how the watch voluntarily attached itself to his wrist as his eyes were laser focused on polishing the silver lining.

Le Silver Lining.

His fingernails began trimming themselves short, hands were bigger and more worn...yet eloquent. The changes trailed down his arms, tightening his biceps with lean muscle of a servant who had been tasked with numerous duties beyond laundry.

The boss eventually demanded more from him after all, as the shirt he wore had split into two, the lower layer ironing itself to his chest, sculpting his abdominals to six stones as two modest arches formed the front side of his chest, tightening as the solid foundation gets filled with pectoral muscle.

Starch blue Sleeves rolling down to his wrists, regaining the familiarity of a buttoned down as the upper layer rested over him like a navy suit jacket. He had to look presentable always, even if he was Mr. Conrad’s servant, especially when he had visitors.

Of course, his snobbish boss was always in control, living under his roof meant a rigid schedule with tons of tasks always needing to be done. Buttocks tightening...ensuring there will be no time for any poking from behind.

“He did give me some leeway though.”

Connecting his legs, as the stress pitched a tent beneath his trousers, which shifted to a more expensive quality that he missed, tightening on those knees in dark blue like his suit jacket, as he stood tall over 6ft, slightly shorter than his boss...but definitely the height of a man who was in charge of many things.

The man in the older twenties nodded, as with every swipe, the new reality of his situation became clearer and clearer.

His pouch rested comfortably in those briefs, which came with the uniform ‘to set ‘boys’ straight’ as so he proclaims. Being dedicated to his boss meant he had no time for a long term relationship, seeing men less and being forced to chat with women.

Though with the amount of ladies chatting with him....

“He has been exceptionally generous.”

Huffing out an arrogant flair, starting to appreciate his employer. Yes, he was bi-curious, nothing too serious though, at least with the men.

Plus the watch was, after all, a symbol of gratitude and position from the older male. Despite the consistent banter during his first few years, he really grew on him despite the excessive homophobia.

Because, it was as his boss said, working under him was a privilege.

Both things, he too had inherited from his long time boss. He did serve under him over 16 years, and while Conrad was demanding, he was absolutely generous, as long as one fits into his mould.

Which its something he slid on in perfectly.

“Still, not really my type, no?”

The age gap was less than a decade, but he was not interested in such acts with the man. Putting his foot down, shoes being polished into a prim and proper wing-tip, strictly professional like their relationship.

The strictness was something he did admire in a superior, alongside the pompous arrogance, he probably wouldn’t date the man even if he were gay! Despite it being so arou-

“Non non...what am I thinking?!”

His voice deepened, darkened. His nose wrinkled in disgust, disapproval to his more...’immature’ ways. Aging out to a matured thirty eight, as his skin took on a more elegant and healthy glow. Raised in the life of the wealthy, but with the humility of a servant.

They were simply, Sir and b...Monsieur. A Boss and his trusted butler, a respectable relationship between gentlemen.

Standing up straight, a posture he maintained throughout his years at the CEO’s house, shoulders filling up nicely on his uniform, buttocks being disciplined shut as though he vehemently made a decision to stay far from those kind of acts.

And of course, this choice was made solely on his own.

“Unacceptable, no?”

Smirking to himself, recalling the many rants from Sir Conrad about ‘faguettes’ and how disrespectful youths nowadays were, and the many nights they had fine women over as a result.

Giving a few combs to his hair, tight and thorough hairspray glued his slicked back cut to his scalp, maintaining it since he started as one of the servants in the mansion, the prim and proper look for someone who belonged underneath his employer, yet dashing enough to stand out for the ladies.

And of course, he had a level of authority unlike the supervisors of his boss’s company. Bringing his palm to his face, brushing against the dark brown bristles, stubbles, beard on his chin down to a more concentrated ‘chin strap’ as the locals call it.

Jaw sharpening itself to a cleft, moustache dressing above his upper lip, trimmed and twirled to the ideas from the CEO, with a modest patch of fuzz below his lower lip, mirroring his superior’s well groomed moustache.

Like a shadow, he would do as his employer says, and behave like him...with a Parisian twist.

The experienced servant giving a few final swipes to the watch with ease as the polished beam shone into his eyes, lenses. A pair of rectangular spectacles framed his new perspective, with utmost appreciation to his employer.

Brows arching downward, trimming away any resistance to the loyal affluence of the frenchman’s dark brown eyes. Pocketing away his hankerchief, he turned on the washing machine and made his way to the living room with a pre-prepared cart of treats.

Knowing, according to his watch, its tea time.

“As expected as always, Monsieur.”

Antoine bowed down to his waist, proud of his accomplishment of being second in command to the CEO of C.O.N. Corporations. And while he may not have a title like the fine gentlemen sitting at the boardroom, the Butler had more say in who stays than any of them ever could.

That enough was of satisfaction to the eloquent Parisian.

“Now if you would excuse us, we would like to have the rest of the afternoon undisturbed until a quarter past nine...”

As his boss said that, a fancy looking Madame climbed on top of him, and initiated an intense make out session like every other evening after a special occasion.

“Understood sir, enjoy your session.”

The french butler walked on auto pilot out of the room, leaving them to their heterosexual pursuits. Of course, while he was a fellow ladies man, he wasn’t going to steal the spotlight from his boss. He wasn’t a ‘boy’, but a ‘Monsieur’, and besides...

“Heehee~”

There was someone far more interesting on the staircase...

A french maid, dressed loosely in that typical frilly attire, winked at him. That cheeky vixen...she was literally asking to be painted, pulling his attention from his multitude of assignments to be done, and onto her.

Alas, the ladies do come first, his boss always encouraged his many trysts with women across the mansion, as long as he did a clean job.

And this blonde was no exception, most definitely another generous reward from Sir Conrad, something his eyes savoured by examining those pillows on her mattress.

Removing his glasses, he gave a dashing look at the lady, and daringly spoke.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle, Coffee, Tea, or me?”

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Strictly Professional

Sam “Ace” Rothstein x Call Girl! Reader

Enjoy Sam’s rocky relationship with his favorite call girl!

TW: smut, dirty talk, rough sex, prostitution, heartbreak, being involved with two women but its not cheating?

Word Count: 9.3k

As you finish placing the last few snacks down on your little marble tray, you hear the doorbell ring. You have a new client tonight! "Coming!" you yell from the kitchen before rushing to the front door. You take a moment to straighten out your silk robe, checking your reflection in the foyer mirror before opening the door. "Cumming already? I didn't know I was that good," the man says smugly. "Oh, you naughty boy," you say, greeting him with a hug and rubbing your body against his, "Come in, honey." He steps over the threshold, and you close the door behind him. As you slip his sport coat from his shoulders, he starts, "It's nice to meet you, I'm-" "Ace Rothstein. You run The Tangiers." "Ah, so you've seen my place before?" he asks, impressed. "A few times with friends or clients. Plus, you're practically a household name here in the desert." He looks down for a moment, clearly flattered. "Well, I'd like to leave the celebrity outside; you can call me Sam." "Sam, huh?" you saunter up to him, playing with his tie, "It's nice to meet you, Sam. I'm (Y/N)." You pull him close, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you do with many of the men you meet up with. "(Y/N)... I like that." Whether he was referring to your name or the kiss on the cheek you aren't sure, but you can tell he's into you. So you start walking away from him, further into your house: your way of being a tease and letting him see your... "assets." "You can sit here on the couch if you'd like," you throw over your shoulder, "Would you like a glass of wine, Sam?" "Hmm," he hums, looking up as if he's thinking. "Champagne?" you suggest. He gives you a look and raises his eyebrows, "Perfect." "Yes, sir," you say, slipping into the kitchen. You pull a bottle of champagne from your wine fridge, plop it in a bucket of ice, and return to the living room with it. Setting the alcohol on the table, you say, "I'll be right back!" Before trotting off to the kitchen again and returning with your little marble snack tray. "Oh," Sam remarks, looking over the crackers, cheese, meats, petit fours, and chocolate-covered strawberries, "Wow, I've never been treated quite like this before." "Well, the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach," you sit on your knees right next to him on the couch, "and I like to keep my men coming back for more." You pop the cork off the champagne, pouring two glasses and handing one to Sam. You spend some time enjoying your drinks as you get to know one another. You find him very charming, and it's no wonder his casino is such a success. As you feed him a bite of chocolate-covered strawberry, you ponder, "What's a sweet man like you doing with a call girl?" After chewing up the strawberry and taking a sip of champagne, he explains, "I guess I haven't had much luck in love." You hum near his ear, rubbing his chest with your hand, "The man who knows all the odds isn't willing to take a chance with his heart." You start placing sensual kisses along his cheek and shirt collar. He turns his head slightly towards you, looking down at your pretty face, before catching your lips with his. You give him a series of feather soft kisses, waiting for him to want more. He wraps his arms around you, pressing your chest into him. Your hand snakes down from his chest towards the waistline of his pants, where you scratch at the fabric there. The man lets out a grunt and spreads his legs a bit wider. He tries to deepen your kisses, but you tease him by keeping them light and oh-so-gently tracing your fingertips over his groin. When Sam shifts his hips trying to get more friction, you pull your lips away from his and give him a mischievous smile. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes already lust-blown, then he grabs your head roughly and kisses you, hard. You let out a whiny little moan as his tongue presses at your lips. When you allow him access to your mouth, he pulls you across his lap and tightly holds you with his arms around your waist. Straddling him, you feel him holding your hips down so he can press his sex against yours. You'd never seen a man become so needy so quickly. You pull away from his kiss again, but this time, it's to give him a little treat. He makes a disappointed noise at the loss of your lips, but he's pleasantly surprised when he sees you untying your robe and dropping the silky material from your shoulders. You're left in nothing but a white, sheer, lace teddy, and Sam is left breathless. "Beautiful... You're absolutely beautiful, and such a pretty face," he strokes your cheek. There was a sincerity in his compliment that you hadn't experienced much in this line of work. You can tell Sam is a real gentleman. His large hands rub your sides, appreciating the warmth of your skin, and his eyes roam your body, specifically your breasts. He also thinks they're pretty. "May I?" he asks you, glancing at your chest. "Of course, Sam." He gently cups your breasts, softly squeezing and playing with them through the thin fabric of your lingerie. Your fingers cling to the skin of his neck which helps you lean in to kiss him on the forehead. His hands sneak up and untie the lace at the back of your neck; the top of your teddy slides off of you, and Sam's mouth softly surrounds one of your nipples. He suckles at it while his fingers tickle and squeeze your other nipple. You wrap your arms around his head, holding him to your chest while you grind your hips down on his lap again. When you get a needy moan from the man, you ask him, "You wanna go upstairs?" He pops off of your nipple and looks up at you, "That where your bedroom is?" "Yes, sweetheart," another kiss on the forehead. "Can I carry you?" "Sweeping me off my feet already? You make me feel like a princess or something," you giggle! "Well, some of the girls at the casino do call me the King of Hearts," he returns cutely, also with a little chuckle. And with that, he stands up, planting a kiss on you then leading you to the staircase. Your legs are wrapped firmly around his waist as he makes it to the upstairs hallway, asking which door leads to your room. Inside, he sees your large soft bed with freshly washed sheets. "Mm, looks cozy," he points out before he throws you onto the bed, enjoying the way you bounce and laugh. He walks over to a chair at the corner of the room and kicks his shoes off. When you make a move to stand up, he stops you, "No, you just lay there and let me look at ya; I'll undress myself." He gives you a warm smile as he loosens his tie. You get comfy on the bed, grabbing a pillow and cuddling it against your chest, as if spooning it. Then you turn away from Sam, showing off your bare back and cute butt, still adorned with white lace. "Ooh, you're sexy from the backside, too," he tells you. When you peak over your shoulder and see him hanging his pants on the back of the chair, he gives you a wink. Wearing just an unbuttoned shirt and boxer briefs, he walks over to the nightstand beside your bed, "I brought these in case you want to use them," as he sits down a strip of condoms. You simply hug your pillow tightly; every little thing he does makes you feel so special. He comes back over to the bed, this time wearing nothing but his birthday suit. You feel him crawl on the bed behind you, and he lays down to spoon you. "You're making me very jealous of that pillow, you know that?" his voice grumbles in your ear as his palm rubs circles into your butt cheek. You twist around and give the man another passionate kiss, "Thank you for bringing protection, that was very considerate of you. I do like to use condoms, and I keep some here so you don't have to buy them each time... If you choose to come back to see me." He gets right next to your ear to whisper, "If the sex is half as good as your hospitality, I think you'll be seeing me again." The next few moments are a whirlwind of making out, getting the last of your lingerie on the floor, and rushing to get a condom as you could barely keep your hands off of one another. Sam is normally a man that likes to take his time and be meticulous with things, but you treat him in a way that just hits all the right buttons. He can hardly wait to bury himself in you to the hilt. And for good reason, too. He is simply 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 with the way your body feels: your baby soft skin in his hands, your nails in his back, your plush thighs against his hips, even the sound of your moans in his ears, and of course your tight wet warmth squeezing his throbbing member as he fucks you into the mattress. As for you, Sam is one of the best partners you've ever had--scratch that--𝘵𝘩𝘦 best. He's incredibly romantic, involved, attentive to what you like; he'd already brought you two orgasms! You can't wrap your head around how this man is single. "Baby," he gruffly warns you, "baby, I'm gonna cum." His eyebrows furrow and his hips move in a more shallow motion, sinking himself into you a few more times. He revels in this feeling, hanging on the edge of his climax, when a little tear rolls down his cheek. His breath hitches as he inhales sharply, spilling into the condom. He drags out his orgasm by thrusting into you until he just can't anymore. When he collapses on top of you, you simply hold him close, giving him some love and affection. He lies there on your chest listening to the sound of your heartbeat, exhausted from his flood of emotions. Your hand strokes the side of his face, stopping on his cheek and thumbing that tear stain away, "You alright, honey?" He looks up at you with his eyes, the gives you a small smile, "Yeah... It was just 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 good." "Mmmm, so I'll see you again?" "Yes, ma'am... if I can move. Right now, I really just wanna sleep right here." "Well, you're more than welcome to, baby boy. Maybe I'll make you breakfast in the morning," you give him a kiss on top of his hair that had been neatly gelled, but now it's a kinky mess. "Or I'll have you for breakfast," he jokes smugly before giving you a kiss on the neck. • • • It's almost unnecessary to say, but Sam becomes a very regular client of yours. You quickly grow to be his favorite call girl, and as a customer and as a person, he treats you right. In fact, he treats you well enough that you make an effort to open your schedule for him, and he pays you well enough that you can drop some lower paying clients. But perhaps that isn't the only reason you've made yourself so available... "Sam, honey?" you start. You're at his place; since you've seen him a few times now, you've started meeting at his place as well. And boy, is it so nice there! "Yeah, gorgeous?" his voice comes out in a whisper while you laying in bed wrapped in his arms and a post-coital glow. "Want me to run you a bath?" "A bath, hmm?" he gives you that twinkling side eye, the one that tells you he's incredibly happy, even if his lips only wear a tiny smile. "Yeah, so we can wash off. Ya know, I could bathe you... lather you up with a little soap and a sponge... rinse it all off... and repeat," you giggle the last part. "Mmmm, does that cost extra, mama?" "Not for you, sugar." And it's true; he pays you more than enough for you to go above and beyond for him, not to mention how incredibly sweet he is. Sometimes he pulls at your heartstrings with his little pet names for you and the way he appreciates every inch of your body, even if you're just cuddling. Moments later Sam is relaxed back in the bathtub, arms stretched wide, looking absolutely inviting, so you climb right in and sit in front of him, facing him. He leans forward and gives you a smooch before leaning back against the wall of the bathtub. You scoot over to him, tucking himself under his arm, so you can both stretch out your legs. "Sam?" you ask, sliding a hand across his thigh under the water and the suds. "Hm?" he wraps an arm around you, massaging your scalp with his fingertips. You wrap your hand around his length, stroking it easily with the bath water acting as a lubricant. "Ooh, baby," he nearly jumps, legs tensing up a bit, "I'm still a bit- ssss-sensitive from- from earlier." He groans and his thighs twitch from your ministrations. "I know, but I have something to ask you, and I want your undivided attention," you explain, whispering the last part in his ear. "B-but..." is all he can get out as your hand bobs up and down, making him hard again so soon after his orgasm. "Do I have your attention, honey buns?" you chastise him, knowing full well that he can't think of anything but you and the way your thumb is swirling around that over-sensitive tip. "Uh-huh," he nods his head in small movements, his eyes drifting close, giving into that half-uncomfortable, half-pleasant feeling. His hands grab onto you, bracing himself, and you reward him with a few soft kisses before prompting him with your question. It was something you'd never asked a client before. Something you'd been asked by a client and even agreed to a number of times, but it felt inappropriate for you to be the one asking this, especially with such a high profile client as Sam Rothstein. It was funny how quickly you'd fallen into calling him Sam, and it felt special being one of the few people that called him that. "Take me to dinner." It's a simple enough request, but you know the complications involved. "Huh?" Sam's face looks at you hazily, eyebrows arched up almost as if he's drunk. "Take me to dinner, Sam," you repeat, and you realize that you aren't very good at asking a question; those typically end in question marks. His face becomes serious, and your hand comes to a halt and moves away from his member. He sits there, staring off into space and chewing on his lip as he thinks, but when he turns to face you, his eyes immediately soften. "Sweetheart..." he starts and trails off. His large hand softly cups your cheek, dampening your face with water, and he urges you closer to him until your foreheads touch. You both stay quiet like that for a moment, eyes closed before his head tilts back, and he searches for your lips. After a tender kiss, he gathers his thoughts and explains, "You know how much I'd love to take you out. You have such a great personality and you always make me feel so good, in more ways than one. But the fact is: it would do something to my reputation if I were to be seen taking you to dinner." He grabs a wash cloth from the edge of the bathtub and starts to gently wash your features that he finds so statuesque: your shoulders, clavicles, neck, and decolletage. "I know, sugar. Everyone knows that rich men sleep with call girls, prostitutes, hookers, whatever you wanna call us... but they don't wanna see us in public. It's not your fault; I just thought I would ask," you lean forward and give him another series of kisses. You have to admit you're a little sad about it, but you knew what the answer was going to be. "C'mere," Sam says in his seductive voice. "C'mere? I'm right here," you giggle. "Mm, not close enough," he remarks and then wraps his arms around you and pulls you under the water for an onslaught of kisses--seriously this man's tub is gigantic. • • • Just like any usual night with Sam, he shows up to your house pretty late at night after getting off at the casino, but this night, he shows up dressed a little nicer than usual (how he could dress any nicer you don't know) and with a beautiful bouquet of lilies, carnations, chrysanthemums, you name it and it was probably in that bouquet. "Sam! What's this for?!" your voice is so giddy as you hold the huge bundle of flowers in your arms. "Go upstairs and put on one of those nice dresses I bought you, we've got somewhere to be," he wraps an arm around your waist and greets you with a kiss. "Huh?" the confusion comes through in your tone. "Did I stutter? Get that pretty little ass upstairs and change out of that robe..." He softly spins your around and gives your backside a smack, "Leave the lingerie though," he whispers before sending you upstairs. You'd only ever seen Sam's Cadillac before, whether it was parked at your house or outside The Tangiers; you'd never been in it before, but you have to say: it's a very luxurious car. Sam casually cruises down the road, left hand on the wheel, cigarette in the right. Damn, he just looks so good. Once he's done smoking and puts out his cigarette, his fingers lace with yours. "Sam, where are we going?!" you badger him for about the hundredth time. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?" he chuckles calmly. Always calm, cool, and collected. But you have your answer only a few minutes later when you pull into a tiny restaurant on the outskirts of town. "I know how bad you wanted me to take you out, and I know this maybe isn't what you imagined, but I promise I tried my best to make it special," he places a kiss on your knuckles before hopping out the car and quickly walking around to open your door for you. As you're walking towards the door of the quaint mom-and-pop style eatery, Sam's arm wrapped firmly around your waist, you see a sign by the door. "Sam, honey, it says they close at 10 o'clock! It's way past 10!" "Shush, it's okay, I know the owners," he holds the door open for you, "Does this place look closed to you?" Inside the place is adorned with twinkling lights strung across the banisters, and little vines of ivy decorate the room. The host leads you to your table which is draped in a white table cloth and is already set with wine glasses and a few candles: a set up a little nicer than usual for a place like this. There are a few other patrons seated around the dining room, but it's far from packed. You almost had to wonder if Sam paid the other guests to have dinner here. As Sam stands before you, pulling out your chair for you to have a seat, you feel like you're in a dream, and suddenly you can't really move. He notices the overwhelmed look on your face, and he steps over, pulling you softly into him. "Hey, you okay?" It's barely above a whisper. You look around him, avoiding his eye contact and once again taking in the simple but elegant decor. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before," your voice sounds raspy and tears threaten to drip from your waterline. "What, this? Certainly you've been to fancier places before," he chuckles, trying to lighten to mood. A small huff of air comes out your nose and your lips can't help but form a smile, "You know what I mean, sweet boy, it's the gesture." "Well, you deserve this gesture and many more," he places a kiss on your cheek then leads you to the table to take your seat. Sam being as charismatic as he is and a bit of a bachelor, the night goes by so well! As much as you enjoy cuddling and having sex with the man, it's nice to see him in a different setting. You are also happy that you are getting to have dinner in a more private place, because it feels like you get to see Sam for who he really is, without any airs he may put on around big spenders at the casino. You really have a good time with your client; he knows how to make a girl feel special, and it maybe even feels a little romantic. It's easy for the lines to get blurred in your line of work, but you've always been good at recognizing boundaries, and what you and Sam have... It's more than strictly professional. No man in his position would go out of his way like this for some broad; he'd have to really care about her to risk his reputation. • • • After that, Sam became more comfortable and started to take you to more dinners, less private dinners. One night before heading home after dinner, Sam's using the restroom when he runs into a manager from a competing casino. "Ace, how are ya?" he says in a rather country accent. Sam simply gives him a nod, trying to be polite but blow the guy off. "You still parading that girl around? Whats her name?" he then mispronounces your name, likely on purpose; it's easy to tell he's being condescending. "(Y/N)." That's all Sam says, glaring at the guy, before moving to the sink to wash his hands. "Yeah, well, word on the street is that Ace Rothstein is dating a whore. Just thought you should know." Sam's jaw clenches tightly as he dries his hands. He discards the towel and stalks over to the man, still at the urinal. One of Sam's hands grips the back of the other man's neck and pushes him forward roughly, so his cheek is pressed against the cold bathroom wall. "I got half a mind to make your skull a part of this bathroom tile. Keep her name out your filthy mouth... You won't get a second chance," Sam practically growls. He roughly releases the other man, then walks out of the restroom wiping his hands and smoothing down the front of his jacket. That night, the sex was unlike anything you'd ever had with Sam. "Oh! Oh!! Sam!" you yell out as he pounds into you. He has you in a mating press, effectively trapping you beneath him with his lips attacking you all across your face and mouth. He sits up, allowing your knees off of your chest a little, and he props himself up with one hand next to your head, the other using his thumb to work circles on your clit momentarily. "God, baby, you're so pretty, so pretty taking my cock," his hips slap loudly and quickly against yours, "You like taking me, more than those other guys, huh? I know you like my cock." He moves his hand away from your clit and pops that same thumb in your mouth. "You like it when I fill all your holes. Such a pretty little slut for me. You take whatever I'll give you," he moves his hand to your throat, fingers roughly rubbing the skin there. You're excited just thinking about what he's gonna do to you. Once one hand gets a grip on your airway, the other joins it, putting a good amount of his weight on your throat as his hip movements quicken. "You're mine, (Y/N), all mine. You hear me?" The lack of bloodflow to your head causes a huge increase in the sensation of his length slamming into you. It's like the only things that exist to you are his dick and his voice. "Mine. You belong to me." He releases you for just a moment to make sure you aren't under too long, but you thank God when he puts the pressure back on, because you'd been close to cumming. "Fuck, baby, my baby feels so good," he furrows his eyebrows to concentrate on fucking into you. Again that feeling of lightheadedness sets in and all you can think about is his member making your walls quake, and just as you slip over the edge of your orgasm- SMACK! The sound vibrates in your ears as you realize Sam slapped your face. You can hardly process what your body is feeling; you just know you're on cloud nine.   Another slap, and an "Answer me, answer me! Are you mine? Are you my princess?" makes you come back to reality a bit. Eyes glossed over and mouth hanging open, you slowly look to Sam and nod your head. "Good," is all he says before kissing you roughly. "Now turn over." His hands release your throat and he pulls out before grabbing your hips and helping you flip your body. Seconds later, he's comfortably inside you again, snapping his hips, desperately searching for his release. Your ass presses against his pelvis, causing him to groan loudly. He slides an arm under your hips to keep that pressure on as his whole body rocks into you. However, he doesn't stay like that long; he's feeling much needier tonight. With his hands on your spine, he shoves you face down into the bed, so he can lift up and fall back down into your hot, tight pussy. Upon hearing your moans muffled by your pillow, Sam taunts you again, "You like it when I break your back, baby?" He speeds up his pace, knowing this is the last push to his climax. His hips slap audibly against your ass cheeks in a very even rhythm as he grunts out his orgasm. He walks his hands off of your back, still holding himself above you, rocking his hips lightly as he rides out the length of his orgasm. You twist your upper body, looking up at the man behind you who bends down and gives you a sloppy kiss before pulling out and going to the bathroom to clean up. You aren't sure what had gotten into him; you've never seen him like that before--so possessive of you. But you certainly aren't complaining if he really meant it about you belonging to him. Besides... there isn't a better guy in Las Vegas to belong to. • • • In the weeks after that, Sam fills all of his free time with you. He comes over regularly even if it's just a visit for a little while before work, or he would insist on having you spend the night at his place, even if you didn't perform your regular services. You can't deny the fondness you have for another's company... This particular afternoon, Sam has taken the day off. You never get to see him when the sun is out, so it's a real treasure, seeing his naked form splayed across your mattress, the sunlight that peaks through the blinds dancing across his skin. The stark lines of light and dark really accentuating his toned arms, well-groomed chest, thighs that are more muscular than one would expect (but you know why they're muscular), and that hefty erection standing upright for you. On most men, their genitals aren't much to write home about, but on Sam... it's almost elegant seeing that long shaft, stiff as a board, resting on his belly with its bright pink tip reaching his navel, not to mention the drops of pre-cum oozing out of him just from the thought of being with you. And since you have all day, you'll take all day to make him feel good. You spend most of the afternoon cuddling in the nude with Sam cupping your breasts and kissing your neck. Everything is slow and gentle but that doesn't make it less of a tease. Several times, Sam presses his body to yours, rutting that pretty cock against your thigh or your butt. Oh, but he doesn't make the afternoon easy on you either. Those devilish fingers of his work all of those sweet spots across your body, toying with that honeypot he loves so much until it's simply dripping for him. And that's when you find yourself on top of your lover, grinding your clit against his hard length, looking for the friction you both desire. Sam is propped up on the mountain of pillows lying at your headboard, gently scraping his hands across your body. "You look beautiful, baby. It's nice seein' you in the sunlight like this," he pulls you forward by the waist to meet your lips with those kisses you love so much, and his hips buck up into yours a few times. You'd been chitchatting off and on all day while teasing each other, so as you continue to dry hump him, his face so close to yours, you open with, "Hey, Sam?" "Yeah, (Y/N)?" he cups on of your cheeks. "Can I tell you something?" " 'Course you can, baby," his hands move to your bare back, tracing his fingertips across the lines made by your muscles and bones. "Well, uh..." Your nerves immediately make you come to a halt. You hang your head, and your eyes peak up at him. "What is it, angel?" "I- I-" you grab his hand and start to fidget with it. "Goodness, baby, I never seen you so nervous. Why don't we lie down, and we'll talk about it, yeah?" "Yeah, okay," you whisper, and he takes you in his hands, gently laying your body beside his; you lie on your sides facing one another. He gently strokes your cheeks with his knuckles before pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Now, what is it?" His voice comes out in a whisper, and he has a silly grin on his lips. Your fingers trace shapes into his chest hair, and you decide to just come right out with it, "I like you, Sam, a lot." "Well, I like you, too, honey." "No, I mean-" you take a moment to gather your thoughts, "We've grown really close the past few months, and I think we both have to admit that this isn't a conventional client/call girl relationship. You have me over to your place almost every night," you cast your eyes down, looking away from him, "I guess when you spend that kind of time with someone, it'd be hard not to... What I'm trying to say is that I have feelings for you, Sam. I like all the dates and going out on the town with you, more than I should! It's not like when other guys take me out; it's- it's- it makes me feel special, and I want more. I wanna be more than just some hooker to you!" You end your rant there, your words still hanging in the air. You look at Sam, who's deep in thought. When his eyes pan back to you, he inhales sharply and his facial expression stiffens into that unreadable poker face he's spent years perfecting. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression," he starts, clearly hiding something behind those eyes, "but this was never meant to be more than sex." "But... It 𝘪𝘴 more than sex." He sits up, turning to get off the bed. "Sam, wait. Where are you going?" "I should leave," he says, stepping into his boxers. "Sam, no, why can't we just talk about it?" "Talk about it? What is there to talk about?! I can't be with a girl like you. And this, what we got here, this isn't gonna work if one of us has feelings!" "But what about all those times we went out? I really thought we had something special," you bargain. "(Y/N), I-" In his rush to get dressed, he pauses for a moment, "I only took you out 'cause you begged me to! And it's already done a number on my reputation! Do you know what it would do to 𝘮𝘦? To my 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘰? If I was to start dating you? If I was to start dating a whore?!" His words land as harshly as they were meant to. It's as if you can feel the fracture forming on that little piece of your heart that belongs to him. That's when your face turns cold, revealing a poker face of your own. "Get out," it comes out as a whisper, then your voice gets much louder, "If that's how you feel, then get OUT!" You put up with a lot in your line of work, but being called a whore by a client crossed the line. It meant they didn't respect you, and you won't give your body to a man who won't respect you. So, finally hearing your front door close and Sam starting the engine in his Cadillac, you finally allow yourself to sob into your pillow. You never expected that to go over so poorly, and you've never cared for anyone the way you care for Sam, the way you crave him in every way: his conversation, his humor, his cuddles, and the way he made you feel needed, even if it was just to spend the night with him. Over the next week, you moved your appointments with your other clients back, not wanting to get upset in front of any of them, plus you deserve some time off. And over that next week, you didn't hear from Sam at all. You guess that he really is done with you... • • • Your week-long vacation turned into a few weeks; you wanted to make sure you were ready to see your regulars again. In that time, you'd been receiving cards and flowers from these guys wishing you well and just being incredibly patient with you. Unfortunately at that same time, you'd heard from the other girls in the business that Sam had fallen head over heels for Ginger McKenna. They didn't know what had gone down between you and him, and everything happened so fast; the assumption is that Sam stopped seeing you because Ginger likes her men to be exclusive with her. But that isn't what happened, and you can't tell anyone otherwise. Perhaps if you were more vengeful, but you aren't, at least not towards him. "(Y/N), honey, I missed you!" you're greeted by one of your loyal customers as he steps over the threshold of your home before picking you up and spinning you around like an old friend. "Damien!!" you squeal as he sets you down, kissing your cheek a few times. He's one of your oldest clients, and it's always a pleasure seeing him. "How are you? You took a few weeks off, is everything okay? You got my flowers, right?" He looks you over, as if checking to make sure nothing is out of place on you. "I'm okay, and yes, I got your flowers. Thank you, that was really sweet of you." Placing a kiss on his cheek, you ask in a teasing voice, "How about you? How did you manage to go nearly a month without me?" "Ah, well," you feel your back meet the wall and Damien places a kiss on your lips, holding your chin in his hand, "I barely scraped by. I even had to resort to using my hand..." "You didn't wanna see another girl?" you ask in between making out with him. "Mmmm, once," he wraps his arms around your waist, "but you know how picky I am." Damien is more than happy to let you take it easy while he does most of the work. He can tell you're still trying to get back into the swing of things, and it had been a while since he'd had a good lay. "(Y/N)," he breathes out, "God, baby, you're so good..." He lays his head on your shoulder, while he tries to catch his breath. This earns a chuckle from you, "I didn't really do anything; you were the one who was so eager. Really, I should be paying you!" You both laugh, and the man rolls off of you. The mood shifts when he asks, "What's going through that pretty head is yours? I've known you long enough, I can tell you're about a million miles away from here." "Damien, you know I don't like to talk about my personal drama; it's unprofessional." "I know, but do you have anyone that you can vent to?" You look away from him, and it gives him his answer. "(Y/N)... Talk to me, tell me what's going on." "Damien..." you mimic his little whine, "I don't wanna get upset and ruin our time together." "You won't ruin our time together. How long have I known you? And I've never once had a bad experience with you. Not to mention all the ways that you take care of me, it's time for you to let someone take care of you, even if it's just listening to you talk." A bit of redness forms under your eyes and on the tip of your nose as you continue to avoid eye contact with Damien. "I've never seen you get upset over anything, honey, what's wrong?" "I, uh... got feelings for a client, a high profile client, and it didn't end well," you murmur into his chest. "He must really be someone special for you to like him so much. In all the years we've been seeing each other, you've never dated anyone, especially not a client. God knows I tried," he chuckles and lifts your chin, happy to see the little smile you have as you reminisce on when he tried to get with you. You divulge all the details of what had happened with Sam, but you kept his identity a secret. You didn't want Damien to form an opinion on Sam or his casino because of you. "He called you a whore?!" Damien exclaims. You're more or less at the end of your story. "Yeah, but I just don't understand. It wasn't like him to be so cold like that... Or to call me names. He's the kind of guy that will retaliate if someone takes a shot at him, but I don't know what I did to him." You search Damien's face for an answer, and luckily, he may have one. "Sounds to me like he's scared." "Hm?" you question. "Scared to let himself be loved. Maybe scared he's gonna get hurt by someone who has been a place of comfort. You said he's with a hustler now? Well, no one expects it to work with a hustler, but he's probably got the money to keep her around, right?" "Yeah, he does," you confirm through a whisper. You turn over, letting Damien spoon you. He was right on the money. His arm snakes around your waist, a hand cupping your breast, and his voice rumbles right in your ear, "I know you're not the type of gal that begs, but I do think you should go talk to this guy, if you really feel that way about him." • • • And that's just what you're doing. You make your way across the floor of The Tangiers, all of the lights and decor dizzy making, in search of the man who runs it all. You've been in Las Vegas long enough to know where the guys who watch the floor would be, and in fact, there's a rather tough looking group of these guys standing in a group, watching the pits, but no Sam. You catch the attention of a few of them, so you shoot them a smile, and the cowboy in the group tips his hat at you before you slip away to the bar to survey the place and find where their boss could've gone. As you slip past the entrance to what looks like a little lounge, you catch a glimpse of him. When you double back, your stomach drops. Lip-locked with Ginger McKenna, he squeezes her so close to him you thought they might become one person. Despite your visceral reaction to seeing him like this, you can't take your eyes off of them. They make a beautiful couple: him in his shiny suit and her tall blonde figure displayed well by her body-con dress. With your spirits thoroughly crushed, your mind starts to race, questioning if you should even bother talking to the man you care so much for. But when you see him handing Ginger some money and her slipping away, you have no choice but to swallow your feelings and say what you came here to say. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you just have to be confident for a few minutes, then you take your first steps towards him. He leans back casually lighting a cigarette, and he sees you just as you're about to sit next to him, right where Ginger had been. He raises his eyebrows and quickly exhales a puff of smoke, "(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" "Talking some sense into you." There's a pause for a moment before you lay into him, "You told me we couldn't be together because it would hurt your reputation. Tell me how being with a hustler is any better. What? Because she's made a name for herself with the millionaires in this town? Because they like her?? What is it, Sam?" The man before you is left practically speechless, "I... I just like her." "Don't give me that line of bullshit. You liked me too. You're just scared! What did I say that first night we were together? Do you remember? I said you weren't willing to take a chance with your heart. You wanna make the safe bet, but you're being blind. Look at the odds, Sam! She hustles men for money; if you wanna put all your chips on her, it'll be the stupidest bet you ever make in your life..." You finish your tirade in a quiet but serious tone. Almost impulsively, you take his hand in yours and give it a squeeze. You aren't entirely sure what you mean by it. You and Sam sit in silence, your eyes saying everything and nothing to one another. He leans forward, gently places a hand on the back of your head and presses a long kiss to your temple. By that time, you feel the uncertainty of your emotions settling in, so when he pulls back, you take one last lingering look at him before heading out of the room and then practically jogging to your car. As you sit in the car, a frustrated tear staining your cheek, you reflect on what you'd said to him. You didn't grovel, and you hadn't begged him to be with you instead of her; you just told it like it is, and you can only hope he won't make a big mistake... • • •

Sam sits back on the little lounge, puffing on his cigarette, practically frozen with your words still bouncing around in his mind. Truthfully, he was baffled even seeing you; he assumed he had hurt your feelings bad enough that you wouldn't wanna see him again. At least, that was the point... He thought it'd be easier if you didn't want to see each other anymore. He's snapped out of his thoughts by his girlfriend returning to the little sofa and sitting down in the spot you'd just been in. He blinks his eyes a few times and opens the conversation the only way he knows how in his befuddled state, "Any change?" "I hit a few games on the way back," she quickly fabricates. • • • Sam tries his best to put the encounter behind him, but he couldn't help but hear your words in the back of his head every time Ginger showed him some small indicator that she may not be the right choice. Still, he found his feet had carried him right into a jewelry store, and he scanned the glass counters for engagement rings. Once the clerk working that day gets a free moment, he pulls Sam into one of the consultation rooms for high-end customers. Sam's eyes gloss over rows and rows, racks and racks of rings, until he lands on one. The massive rectangle cut emerald stares back at him; it's elegant, but it's unconventional, it's colored, it's unique. Ginger would hate it. But as the little meeting kept on, Sam keeps coming back to the emerald one; he couldn't explain his draw to it, but he hoped Ginger would grow to like it, because that's what he came home with. "We're not getting any younger. Don't you think it's time? Aren't you gettin' tired of all this shit? Bangin' around, hustlin' around?" Sam asks, suddenly changing the subject in their conversation. "What, are you trying to handicap me?" she tries to shrug off what she knows he's about to ask. "I'm gonna do you one better: I'm trying to marry you. You want to marry me?" Sam takes Ginger's hand in his. Ginger looks away doubtfully. "I'm serious. I mean, I want to settle down; I want a family," he pleads. Ginger sighs, laughing, "You got the wrong girl, Sam." "I know I'd be a good father; I know you'd be a good mother." "You don't know me. What, you've known me for two, three months. What do you know?" Her reply is cold, clearly trying to shut him down. "I'm forty-three years old, and I can't think of anybody better to be with, and I don't feel like waiting anymore." "You know a lot of happily married people, Sam? 'Cause I don't." "Yeah, I know all that," he looks down at his hands for a moment, half frustrated and half defeated. "I care about you, but I just don't have those kind of feelings for you. I'm sorry. I'm not in love with you." It was the final blow Sam needed. Just as he's about to open his mouth to beg, to find a way to convince her, to gamble his life away on a real longshot, he realizes he's made a huge mistake. He knew the safest bet had been right there in front of him, but he was so worried about himself that he walked away from a sure thing. He's normally so level headed and clear thinking... He quickly checks his watch, seeing that it isn't too late, "I got somewhere to be." He stands and heads to his bedroom for a change of shoes and to lose the robe he's wearing. "Where are you going? It's kinda late, isn't it?" Ginger gripes. "Business meeting, don't wait up," he throws out, quickly shutting the door behind him. • • • Your client for the night had just called to cancel; it's unusual for a man to cancel on sex, so you wished him well and decided to settle in for the night. Upstairs, you slip out of your lingerie and into something cozy for a lazy night in, maybe you'll watch a movie. Just as you're about to head downstairs, your doorbell rings. "Is Damien pulling one over on me?" The thought crosses your mind that perhaps your client "cancelled" so he can come over and participate in a little kink play. "Damien, is that you?" You call out as you make your way downstairs to open the door. Across the theshold, the picture standing before you stops you in your tracks. "Sam?" it comes out in a whisper. It feels like a dream seeing him here. He's quite dressed down, considering his normal wardrobe: he just had on slacks and a button up shirt, no tie, no jacket, and his hair looks as if he'd quickly smoothed it back. This rough appearance looks.... good on him. He holds out the flowers he'd brought for you. He's the only man in Las Vegas that could get flowers this late at night. "Sam, you can't just waltz back in here like this! I have a client coming over." It was a lie, but you just wanted him gone. You had put your feelings out there for him, and you even tried talking to him one more time, which is more than you would've done for anyone else, and what did he do? He crushed your feelings, and then he didn't listen to you. "(Y/N)..." he reaches out for your hand. You pull it away, and grab the door. "No, Sam, I don't want you here." You swing the door shut, but his hand quickly grabs it, pushing it back open. "(Y/N), listen. Please." He steps into your home, and you immediately turn away from him and start walking towards the staircase. He quickly sets the flowers aside and follows after you, grabbing your hand. "(Y/N)!" "Is your ego so big that you think you can just come into someone's home uninvited?!" you bark at him. "Will you listen to me?!" It was the first time he'd ever raised his voice at you, even when you'd gotten into that argument all those months ago, he'd never raised his voice. "No!" you try to get away from him again, but he grabs you by your shoulders and turns you to face him. His hands slide down to your elbows and hold you to your spot, then he drops down on one knee in front of you. He's locks eyes with you, begging you to stay right there. His hand searches his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box, setting it on his thigh. "Now will you listen to me?" his voice is much quieter this time. He takes your hands in his and looks up at the stunned expression on your face. "I know I fucked up. I fucked up with you big time, but I'm trying to make it right before it's too late. I know I treated you bad: I walked out on you and I said things- I called you things you didn't deserve. For that... I'll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you, if you'll choose to have me. What we had, it was only supposed to be about sex, but at some point, I really started to care about you. I even loved you, and there were days where it took everything in me not to say it to you. You were braver than me for admitting your feelings. And you were right about me: I was scared. I know I can't turn back time, but I'd give anything to have you in my life again. So," he looks down for a moment, picking up the ring box, "I guess that's what I'm trying to do here." He opens the box, showing off probably the biggest ring you'd ever seen in your life. You can't take your eyes off the deep green emerald before you; you can't imagine how much it cost. "Sam..." you breathe out, misty-eyed; it's the only word you could even think of. "(Y/N)," he returns softly before taking your hand again and kissing it, "I love you," he squeezes your hand as if reassuring you that this is real and not a dream, "Will you marry me?" Sam feels guilty about asking for your hand so quickly after trying to convince Ginger to be with him, but it was the thing that made him realize you're the one. He shouldn't have to persuade and bargain with someone to be with him, and in fact, you made him feel wanted, cared for, and even loved. "Can I ask you something?" Even with your head in the clouds, you still know how to reason. "Of course." "This isn't about sex, is it?" It seemed like a silly question, but sex makes people so crazy things. "No, not at all. It's about... It's about me having you on my arm at the casino, taking you out shopping for anything you want, buying a house for us to live in, taking you out for dinner because I know you like that, and um, maybe having a family one day." You can't help but smile and let out a small giggle, "A baby?" you ask, cupping his cheek. "Yeah..." he bites his lips and looks down, realizing what he'd just asked of you, but, God, he can't help but picture you with that big pregnant belly. "Promise me something." He looks back up at you, "Anything." "Don't ever break my heart again, I don't think I could take it..." "Never," he says, pulling you towards him, he wraps an arm around your thigh and presses his head into your belly in a sort of hug. "I caused us a lot of pain. That won't ever happen again, because, well, I just can't stand being away from you," he looks up and gives you a hopeful look, a small bittersweet smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. There's a small pause, a brief moment where he nuzzles his head against your tummy and your hands gently hold the sides of his face. "Okay," you let out. "Hm?" Sam looks up at you again, "Okay?" "Okay. Ask me again," you smile down at him. "Oh, okay!" he answers, happily pulling you down to sit on his knee. With one arm wrapped around your hips and the other holding the ring in front of you. "(Y/N), honey, will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?" You look up at him, a bit nervous and hesitant, but this is the man you'd always dreamed of. Sure, he'd messed up, but you're willing to give him a second chance, and you can only hope that you'll both be all in on your new relationship. You reach up, cupping his face one again and taking in his features, "Yes," you whisper, nodding your head lightly, "Yes!" you repeat, looking as if you might cry. You quickly pull him in for a kiss, needing his lips on yours. "Alright, alright," Sam chuckles, breaking up your excited kissing, "Are you gonna let me put this ring on your finger?" "I guess," you giggle. "You guess, huh?" he smiles smuggly at you, rests your left hand in one of his before slipping that big green rock on your digit. "There, now you're all mine." "Ya know, that goes both ways, Mr. Sam Rothstein. You belong to me, and I don't like sharing," you put a finger on his chest to make your point. "Good," he says lowly, as his lips meet with your again.

[sepublic]

Through the Looking Glass Ruins!!!!!

         …

         SO! Onto other things first…

         WRATH IS BRAXAS’ FATHER!??!!? HOLY SHIT, Wrath is a canonical dad, I’d always expressed my… OH MY GOD WRATH IS DAD! And of BRAXAS, that sweetie… How is Braxas such a sweetie with a father like HIM, also-

         Wrath was in casual wear? Either he has a day off, or he got fired by Belos/Kikimora after drawing Luz a map to Eda in Young Blood, Old Souls! Either way this guy has a sudden new level of NUANCE that I am reeling from, and yes I checked, that really is Wrath according to the credits! Dang this puts everything in a WHOLE new light…!

         AMITY HAIR OHMIGOD IT LOOKS SO ADORABLE SHE’S SELF-ACTUALIZING I AM FUCKING SCREAMING HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD, it’s PINK and not green… They acknowledged it, Emira did! And they CHANGED IT I AM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND OVER THIS-

         She looks so BEAUTIFUL and I love the kind of foreshadowing with the bookends of our first shot of Amity having her hair down, and now it’s changed! And she looks adorable and EMIRA AND EDRIC BEING GREAT SIBLINGS I LOVE IT SO MUCH! This… THIS is everything I wanted! I was resigned to not much of them but HELL YEAH they’re being good siblings and we get a look at their rooms, we see them doing MAKEOVERS together this is everything from my favorite fanon content and MORE,

         Also Edric has a date?! Emira says ‘their’ mom… Unless the Golden Guard has a mom, DARN! Not gonna lie, I half-expected a big twist at the end that Edric was dating the Golden Guard, who was doing some sort of reconnaissance as his unrecognized normal self and/or screwing around with the Blights even further, but in a GENUINE sense… But then who knows Kikimora could be posing as GG’s ‘mom’, this is a stretch anyhow-

         JUST HELL YEAH Blight Twins! Blight Twins being sweet and mischievous and supportive of each other, Blight SIBLINGS being siblings, Emira being an older sister and giving advice! And AMITY, Amity mentioning how much Luz has changed stuff, I love that they acknowledge it openly how her life has completely shifted, and now… NOW…!

         No necklace! Red leggings! PINK HAIR?! Is this why Amity in the intro hasn’t been updated yet… She was getting TWO updates, so the animators decided to only animate a change after this final update?!

         King and Gus are also friends it seems, and they even recorded some fun together! I’m surprised at how much Bria and the others mock Gus’ illusion skills… Obviously Belos is kinda terrible but like; I don’t think he’d set aside an entire subset of magic into Illusions without reason! Also that nightmare trip… I LOVE IT, I love Gus applying the creativity of illusions in their ability to completely warp and distort someone’s sense of reality! And I called that dragon-thing being an illusion!

         A graveyard… I wonder if the Gallderstones (is that how it’s spelled) have any relevance or if they’re just neat? I hope Mattholomule and Gus help hide the Looking Glass Graveyard… Damn, that’s another Death reference with Gus, huh! Is it culminating in his respect for the dead, or will it continue further with Gus being a necromancer, or an Oracle who can commune with the deceased, and he has their respect as someone who treats them properly?!

         Also not to get dark but… What if all those Illusionists are dead because of Belos? I’m JUST SAYING…! And not gonna lie, every time someone insulted Illusions, I kept imagining the Illusion Head just suddenly waking up and feeling like there’s a disturbance in the force, as well as a weird compulsion to beat up some Glandus kids. It’d be even funnier if he had beef with the Construction, Plant, and Abomination Heads as well!

         Speaking of which, more confirmation on Construction Magic being related to earth! Glad to see Bria give us a look into that, which furthers my idea of Belos using construction magic… Also dang, Bria and the Glandus Kids really are the parallels/foils to the Detention kids! You’ve got the short ‘nice’ girl, the tall lanky kid, the furry… But the Glandus Kids start off looking nice and cool, but turn out to be rather nasty!

         Meanwhile the Detention Kids seem like bad news and delinquents, but no! They’re just demonized and actually very kind and chill! The Detention Kids are looked down upon, the Glandus Kids are appraised… The Detention Kids are dual-track, the Glandus Kids are singular; Glandus Kids from, well, GLANDUS, Detention Kids from Hexside… One’s ‘mischief’ is actually very neat and cool, the other’s is literal grave robbing.

         I guess that’s how the bleeding statues got past the censors- It’s technically just an illusion! Also more insight into how Glandus works with its Survival of the Fittest mentality, I wonder if we’ll get confirmation on which coven heads came from there, how that might influence them as adults…

         What is Glandus like, is it more whole-heartedly accepting of Belos’ rule, hence its harsh ideals? Was it made after Hexside? Does Bump hate it for being so cruel like that, or is it just school bias? And dang poor Mattholomule, I always had a feeling he sort of felt and knew that he wasn’t much, so he accepted and compensated by deliberately doing whatever he can for power…

         They confirmed he’s from Glandus, and I appreciate this new look at him! This new leaf turned… Hot take but he’s honestly not as bad as Boscha, his stint with Gus was a one-time thing that Gus was able to live with! And that seems pretty good to set them up as friends! Speaking of Boscha, Willow was injured by pixies? And the last time we heard of pixies, they belonged to Boscha and caused the school to get shut down… Did BOSCHA DO THIS I SWEAR SHE IS DEAD TO ME-

         (Also she’s mentioned in the credits for this episode but I don’t remember hearing her? I might’ve gotten distracted with so much other things.)

         Gus! I like the insight into his relationship with Illusions, and I appreciate how he’s considering other forms of magic… But this hesitation might just serve to reaffirm his believe in Illusions, which is okay! It’s all about choice… And yeah, it seems Gus also has a case of impostor syndrome like King, no wonder they get along so well! I love the glimpses into Gus’ house and the confirmation that he has a library card, no Perry though alas…!

         I appreciate how Gus feels overlooked, like he has no real substance, which is how his Illusions reflect a desire to draw attention, but also the idea that there’s nothing real beneath them… Again, very much like King! And Gus, he’s not a powerhouse like the rest, he’s SKILLED and smart, but strength isn’t his forte, it’s not brute force he operates on, but cleverness! Trickery, I like it…! It’s a nice callback to his last A-plot episode, SVSF, where instead of fighting Mattholomule physically, Gus’ solution is to think outside the box and pull the alarm!

         You go kid, not relying on brute strength but showing that some clever tricks and thinking are just as valid! Kinda wonder if this episode is lowkey a discussion on masculinity for young boys, especially with Gus growing older with puberty, though the latter is mostly because his actual VA grew… But maybe the writers rolled with that and incorporated it, or it’s just a very neat coincidence! Also, it is me or did Mattholomule’s voice change? And the gag that Gavin’s dad looks identical to him, even moreso because he’s NOT supposed to have a moustache… That’s great!

         Malphas! Love this reference to a classic demon, I wasn’t sure if Malphas was the librarian with glasses whom I’ve always headcanoned as a father figure to Amity… But maybe it’s actually this bird dude! He seems adept in Bard magic, and I love the reveal of his true crow appearance… Guess those theorists were right that the one-eyed figure is from the Forbidden Stacks! Also Malphas NOT COOL with Amity, but I’m glad Luz changed his mind, and I wonder how that adventure looked…

         Which- DAMN, the RSD with Luz! She looks so UTTERLY BROKEN when Amity mentions doing stupid things, and she didn’t mean it like that, but Luz just looks so completely shattered and you can tell she wants to cry but instead she bottles it up and tries to take it in stride, and that plays into her trying to overcompensate for her mistakes AGAIN… SOMEONE GET IT TO HER HEAD that she doesn’t need to! I’m scared for Luz, and I was SO scared this episode would end on a bad note…

         BUT DOAHLDdFAEONDKFHN LUMITY KISS LUMITY KISS! ONE-SIDED BUT THEY FINALLY FUCKING KNOW AND AMITY IS LIKE WHAAAAT AND I WAS WAITING FOR IT AND I COULD FEEL IT HAPPEN AND GAY KISS! GAY KISS ON-SCREEN!!! And the way Luz just FLOPS to the ground on her knees AAHJJFFKHGGK and no Alador nor Odalia to ruin this, UTTERLY PERFECT and the twins WATCHING OOOHHHHGGGG YYYEEAAAAHHH-

         This is EVERYTHING I ever wanted!

         What an AMAZING episode with wonderful characer beats and reveals! Again, Amity’s growth as a character, that brief insight into how Luz as a person is very chaotic and sometimes frustrating for Amity and forces her to reevaluate, but ultimately it’s good and Luz DOES try her best, and Amity clearly wanted to make things up for Luz and apologize, they’re BOTH doing things, just the little moments!

         Also, Alex Lawther voices Philip Wittebane! He has long hair and a vaguely british accent, he’s… He’s Belos isn’t he? And they got a new VA because having him voiced by Matthew Rhys would be really spoiler-y right? He’s got the long hair and he’s a nerd… And with how he talks of finding a way back home, maybe Belos really DOES just want to return home, after all? He talks of making a way back home…

         And we see a glimpse of the Portal, so it might’ve brought him there? Or did Philip succeed in making it, and that was his blueprint designs? Did he arrive by Titan’s Blood? What happened to the portal if it brought him there, or if he made it? Why the scar, why near Eda’s house, partially buried?

         Was it lost before he could finish his work, and Philip got side-tracked into something else… Perhaps going on a crusade, on behalf of a curse/demon that possessed him? A demon that killed King’s father…? Was the portal broken and he had to discard it, but then it naturally healed- Or did it just need to recharge, maybe Philip DID make it back home, WHAT IS THE ANSWER?! Is there some sort of doppelganger for Philip, is BELOS his doppelganger?! What is THIS WHAT-

         WHAT AN EPISODE!

[reidology]

Dying in a bathtub - Hotchreid

Summary: Hotch gets nightmares and hides in the tub, so Spencer makes it comfy for him <3

Word count: 4.4k

Content warning: discussion and description of nightmares, smut, brief description of physical abuse, light angst, quite fluffy, happy ending <3

AO3

__________________________________________

The first time it happened Spencer woke up shivering, the cold of a missing body beside him seeped through the sheets chilled his bones. He braved a lazy glance to his bedside, squinting to see the alarm clock blinking big and aggressive red numbers. 05:25. Aaron must have gone out for a morning run, something Spencer never understood. In fact, his reasoning of ‘why run, when sleep?’ whenever Aaron attempted to get him to join always earned him an affectionate eye roll and kiss on the cheek, so why would he ever give that up? No promise of endless coffee can get Spencer Reid to wake up before 7am, much less for exercise.

Reluctantly the sleepy man made his way to the bathroom, knowing he might as well shower and get ready for work now, there’s no way he could get back to sleep without his human furnace of a boyfriend covering him completely. Only, through his grogginess he failed to notice the boyfriend-shaped body softly snoring in the tub.

So he padded over to the semi-closed shower curtain and blearily reached in to turn the water on for it to heat up while he got ready.

Almost as soon as the water turned on, a high-pitched shriek assaulted the young agent’s eardrums. Spencer did what, in his opinion, any caught-off-guard fully trained FBI agent would do— he squealed in shock and fell back on his ass. A moment later the shower curtain pulled back, revealing a very irritated -and very wet- Aaron Hotchner.

“Babe what the fuck,” the older man whined, wringing out his shirt and turning the freezing water off, “I was sleeping!”

“Oh this is my fault?!”

“Yes! Couldn’t you see me?!”

“I just woke up!”

“Me too!” Aaron pointed to his wet shirt as if to say you have no excuse for this.

Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself up from the floor. Somehow he upset his boyfriend, he guesses apologies are on the table. He carefully stepped into the bathtub to face his dripping boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the soaking man’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he pouted quite prettily, “But honey, why were you sleeping in the tub?”

“I didn’t sleep in the tub. I went to sleep in our bed, then you woke me up in the tub.” Aaron grumbled.

Spencer thought Aaron looked positively insane. His eyes focused on the older man’s pupils as his hands checked for a fever.

“Do you have a concussion?” He couldn’t help but fret about the man who is usually so well put together. He was obviously in distress though what kind of distress completely eluded the dry man. Aaron waved Spencer’s worried hands away from his face, “No. Spence, I’m telling you, I didn’t sleep in the bathtub.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Aaron shrugged and swatted Spencer’s nosy hands away that were trying to inspect the grumpy man for any injuries, “Who knows? Let’s get some breakfast.” He calmly stepped out of the tub and headed out, leaving Spencer confused (for once).

“... But it’s 5 am.”

_____

Two nights later, it happened again. But this time Spencer awoke to the sound of sobbing. His heart just about broke in two at the sight of Aaron curled in on himself in the porcelain tub, shaking and covered in sweat.

The Unit Chief used to have terrors most nights. After Foyet, all of life’s problems seemed to unravel in his dreams. The sounds and images were so vivid that upon waking up he believed he had done what he’d dreamed. That he’d hurt his family or that Foyet had come back to finish the job.

During hard cases, Aaron would forgo sleep completely, knowing his mind would only haunt him with terror beyond his conscious capabilities. It left him exhausted and agitated for the rest of the investigation. The team and LEOs got frustrated but none had the guts to confront him, except for one young agent who took special notice of his boss.

So Spencer stepped in, and after weeks of getting closer and learning more about each other than they had in the past five years of working together, Aaron digressed and accepted the help that was offered. The following three months ensued so smoothly, the therapy was helping and Aaron couldn’t believe he was sleeping full nights again. He knew it was all thanks to Spencer, who had taken up a very special place in his heart. Aaron knew that Spencer would always be there when he woke up, like an anchor. Something real to hold on to and keep him in place.

It had been a while since Aaron had such a bad episode, luckily Spencer knew just what to do and jumped right into action. Without missing a beat, the younger man climbed into the tub and sat by Aaron’s head, taking hold of one of his white-knuckled fists and gently coaxing it open by rubbing his thumbs from the palm to the back of the hand. Constant pressure, soothing, real. With one hand he threaded his fingers through the brunette’s damp hair, stroking softly at his scalp, willing his nightmare mind to latch onto the familiar touch.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He murmured sweetly like a mantra.

Eventually Aaron’s panicked sobs dissolved into pained whimpers, his body lost some of its tension, allowing for Spencer to gently lift his boyfriend’s head into his lap and off the hard floor of the tub. The whimpers died down to light trembles and Spencer shushed him comfortingly, continuing to sooth him with gentle strokes to his head. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened and Spencer felt the moment panic set in. The taller man’s breathing quickened and tension returned to his body, frozen in fear. God, Spencer should have turned the lights on.

“It’s just me, darling. You’re home, Aaron. This is home. You’re safe.”

Aaron trembled more, his eyes glazed over as if reliving the nightmare, “Shhh you’re safe.”

Spencer placed a feathery kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead that seemed to anchor him immediately. Tentatively, Aaron looked up at his rescuer, relieved to be in his lover's arms and away from the nightmare universe that had felt so real. He burrowed further into Spencer’s lap, wrapped his shaking arms around his boyfriend’s steady hips. He tried to focus on Spencer’s heartbeat in an attempt to regulate his own. Spencer was warm, Spencer was safe. Always safe.

“Foyet?” Spencer asked cautiously, breath fanning over the older’s forehead. Aaron stilled at the name then nodded. The younger man knows that Aaron needs to talk about it immediately, even if it’s terrifying. It allows him to discern dreams from reality, so that the events and sensations of the night terror don’t ingrain themselves into the man’s memories of reality .

“... and Scratch,” Aaron gulped, “They had Jack. I couldn’t... I didn’t know what was real. Couldn’t tell if it was really Jack. He made me hurt him. Oh god, Spence… I hurt him.” Sobs wracked the pained man’s body once again, unable to forget the horror of the dream. Spencer rocked them back and forth.

“Shh… Jack is fine, he’s at Jess’s. You would never hurt him, Aaron.”

Aaron was spent, he couldn’t muster up the energy to talk. He fell asleep once more in his partner’s comforting hold.

_____

The next morning they woke up with aching muscles from being in the bathtub for so long. Spencer couldn’t help but be worried about his boyfriend. There was definitely something going on, and though he respected Aaron’s privacy immensely, he was afraid of the older man getting into a dangerous situation. Was he sleepwalking to the bathroom? What if he tripped and hit his head on the edge of the tub? But most importantly, why were Aaron’s nightmares leading him to the bathtub?

Spencer nuzzled Aaron’s neck in an effort to wake him up a bit more. “Darling, we need to talk about this.” The worry in Spencer’s voice was audible and prompted Aaron to sit up and sigh deeply. He didn’t think this part of his life would ever come back up to the surface, he’d avoided thinking about it for decades and he didn’t know what triggered the habit to resurface. But now it’s affected Spencer, and he knew he couldn’t keep the love of his life in the dark, but some things were so hard to talk about.

Aaron found himself panicking again, flashes of Foyet and his father clouding his mind once more. Images of Sean taking cover in Aaron’s arms while their father pounds on the bathroom door-

“I know. I-” He was cut off with the sweetest kiss.

“You can take your time sweetheart. No rush.”

Even at this stage in their relationship, Aaron wasn’t used to being treated so well. The kindness that naturally radiated off his boyfriend was enough to make his insides melt, the understanding words never ceased to choke him up. But he knew Spencer would be there to put him back together once he gave him all his pieces. He buried his face in the younger’s neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, relaxing into his hold. Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron’s lean form, offering a safe space. Aaron had never been this vulnerable with anyone before his relationship with Spencer.

After a moment of just holding each other, Aaron’s breathing mellowed out and his voice cracked as he explained everything.

“After Sean was born, my dad started drinking. He’d always been somewhat aggressive, scary even. He- he’d get angry and take it out on my mom… and if she wasn’t there... But when he started drinking it got a thousand times worse. I vowed to myself to protect Sean at all costs, I promised him I would never let our dad get to him. So I took the brunt of it when he was sober. But when he was drunk… he would chase us, try to get to Sean specifically. He was just a little kid 5 or 6, I was 15. He would scour the house to find Sean so I took him and locked us in the only room in the house with a lock… the bathroom. I’d carry Sean in my arms and make a run for it. I blocked off the door with a cabinet and we sat in the tub until he passed out.. My dad couldn’t get in but he would pound on the door so loudly, his voice was so angry-”

Aaron inhaled hard, the grip on the back of Spencer’s shirt tightened and his breathing shallowed. Spencer continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, allowing Aaron to take his time.

“The bathtub was the only safe space for Sean and I. We spent whole nights in there, waiting for my dad to pass out. Sometimes we’d tell stories, play games, but other times we cried and I covered his ears with my hands, not wanting him to hear the horrible things our dad was saying. This went on until I went to college, I tried to take Sean with me but my mother wouldn’t allow it. My dad died a year later, when Sean was 9.

“I- because of that, if any of us had nightmares we’d go into the bathroom and sleep in the tub, because no one could get to us in there.”

Aaron swallowed thickly and timidly looked up to the honey-haired man. Had he sounded pathetic?

But Spencer cupped his cheek once again and kissed him lovingly.

“Thank you for telling me. You’re the strongest person I know, Aaron. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.”

Aaron’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through his chest. He swallowed down all his uncertainties and let Spencer in, he was proud of himself. Both of them yawned in succession, still exhausted from last night and uncomfortable from sleeping in the bathtub.

With a cheeky grin the younger man announced, “Let’s go to bed, I’ll get us the day off.” Aaron was so grateful.

While he called in sick, Spencer had an idea, and he knew just who to call.

_____

“Boy Wonder! How wonderful to hear from you on this frabjous day! We miss you and the Bossman dearly. We are definitely… working. Work is happening, and we’re doing it, and it’s getting done. You can trust me on that. Definitely no piñatas in the break room, where would we even find one on such short notice? Emily doesn’t even know where to get balloons! Anyway, what magical service may I bestow upon thee today, my little lord?”

Spencer bit back a chuckle, “Hi Penelope. Listen I need some advice on… interior decorating-”

Immediately, he got cut off by a squeal, “I’m on my way!”

“No! Garcia- after work-”

The line goes flat.

“Dammit. I should’ve just texted JJ.”

_____

Despite her best efforts, the rest of the team did not let Penelope leave the BAU for a ‘design emergency’. Fortunately for Spencer, that gave him some time to plan what he wanted to do while cooking lunch for his sleeping beauty.

After a full meal of soup and grilled cheese, Hotch retreated to the living room hoping to watch some History Channel with Spencer. They love watching the conspiracy shows together and debunking the awful propositions. Though Hotch learned quite surprisingly that Spencer is very open to the idea of aliens on Earth. However, he has a suspicion that that’s mostly wishful thinking on the part of Spencer's inner child. Nevertheless, it’s adorable and Hotch was excited for it, and waiting patiently for Spencer to finish cleaning himself up.

Before he could question what was taking so long, their doorbell rang a sweet lullabye sound (they had to change it from the awful buzzing that it was- it was too overwhelming for Spencer). Not expecting any company, Hotch was puzzled as to who could be at their door.

“Who is it?” He spoke through the intercom.

“Bossman! Sorry to hear about your incurable case of Work Sickness! If you could let me up, I brought you some warm soup!-”

Spencer bounded through the foyer from the bedroom, practically hopping over furniture and knocking down a flower arrangement, “I got it! I got it!” he heaved frantically.

“Babe, what’s Garcia doing in front of our building on a weekday?”

“Nothing Aar don’t worry about it, Penelope and I are just going out for lunch, see you later!”

Spencer grabbed his satchel and was out the door.

“But- Spencer you just had lunch!” The curly haired man was already running down the steps, “Bye!”

It was Hotch’s turn to be left alone and confused.

_____

In Penelope’s car, Spencer explained his idea to Penelope, without going saying too much about Hotch’s nightmares. In true Penelope fashion, the bubbly bits-and-bobs connoisseur knew the perfect place to get what Spencer needed. Penelope dragged Spencer around the independently-owned home goods boutique like a lost puppy for about two hours. She ended up with more bags for herself and Sergio than what Spencer needed.

A few texts and one missed call from Hotch wondering what the hell was taking Spencer so long prompted them to leave. Spencer thanked Penelope in front of their apartment and air kissed her goodbye, promising to show up at girl’s night next week..

Spencer walks into the foyer as quietly as possible and hides the bags behind the living room’s entertainment center.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah! I’m home!”

Aaron walked out of their bedroom with a soft smile. His round glasses were on, meaning he’s been reading… or looking at case files.

“Are you going through the case?” Spencer scolded.

The bespectacled man didn’t waver. “There’s something the victim’s parents said that doesn’t add up, they said that every Thursday Mandy went to soccer practice after school and swim practice in the next town over in the evenings. She takes the bus so if the unsub was stalking her he’d either have to take the same bus and risk getting caught or have a car- which goes against our age profile- so that would mean there’s someone driving him. Spencer, there are TWO unsu-” He was cut off by being pulled into a kiss. He hummed into it and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s slender waist, pulling them closer together. When they pulled apart Spencer whispered “Two unsubs. The team knows, they’re working on it. You-” he tapped his finger on the older’s chin for emphasis, “need to relax today.”

The resulting pretty pout was swiftly kissed away. None of that now.

“But I don’t know how to relax. I’m Aaron Hotchner, stoic as a statue, stern glare extraordinaire, Mr. Emotionless…”

Spencer rolled his eyes and trailed his hands down Aaron’s hard chest, “I know how to make you relax…” The other man grinned “Oh is that right?” Spencer smirked and led his boyfriend to the couch.

_____

That night when Aaron was gone to bed, Spencer quietly retrieved the bags from behind the TV and set his plan in motion.

_____

He’s trembling. And he can’t recognize his own thoughts, he can’t think straight, all he can see is his son- and Haley with terror written all over their faces.

He barely registers the sound of Jack’s wailing because, as if from right behind his ear, he hears a voice that he interprets as his own thought ‘shoot him’.

‘What?’

‘Pull the trigger’

He looks back up to his sobbing, terrified son, and without hesitation- click- BOOM-

Aaron bolted up from the bed, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the dark. Jack? Where is he- Jack ohmygod-

His vision landed on Spencer’s sleeping form, breathing shallowly and folded into himself like a pretzel, sleeping soundly like an angel. Spencer. Real. Safe. He took a deep breath to regulate his heart. In for 4, hold, out for 6, repeat. This was exhausting.

Groggily, Aaron slipped out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water and maybe splash his face a little. He thought of getting into the bathtub for the comfort he desperately needed right now, but he’d be embarrassed if Spencer found him in there again. Who does that? But nothing could have prepared Aaron for the sight before him when he opened the door.

Lights. Yellow, green, purple electric lights on strings, illuminating the room in a beautiful calming glow. They were suspended from the curtain rod of the bathtub, taped to the walls. Gorgeously scented candles perched on the sink, some on the ground, a few tea lights lining the edge of the tub. It smelled glorious and comforting and Aaron couldn’t tell what it was. Pine? Sandalwood? Campfire?

The most breath-taking part was the inside of the bathtub. Patterned sheets hung from the walls and draped over to form a delicate roof. Fluffy pillows perfectly laid out to coat every inch of the porcelain interior, and soft blankets piled on top for added comfort. Lights lined the inside of the sheet tent as well, it looked fantastical. Like something out of a book.

Aaron was floored, to say the least. Was this what Spencer had been doing today? He was flooded by a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spencer had done all of this for him? To make him feel safe?

He was still standing just barely in the room, taking everything in and getting emotional when he heard soft footsteps behind him and felt Spencer’s long arms slink around his waist. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a kiss was pressed to his neck.

“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

Aaron nodded, “You did all this… for me?” A tinge of awe decorated his voice.

“Yeah,” his boyfriend whispered back, “So you don’t hurt yourself when you sleep in here.”

Aaron felt stupid for ever thinking his wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend would ever feel embarrassed by him. Of course Spencer took everything he admitted seriously, of course Spencer cared about what he’s been through, Spencer cares… that's what he’s been feeling. Taken care of. Important. For once in his life, he feels like he’s allowed to let himself be loved.

The stunned man seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. His mind was overwhelmed with love for his boyfriend. Spencer pulled away and grabbed the older’s hands, Aaron let himself be led to the makeshift fort.

They climbed in together, careful not to knock over any of the burning candles. Spencer settled on one end of the tub and pulled Aaron into him before he could even think of not cuddling with him. He made space with his legs for his boyfriend to settle between, chest pressed to back, arms wrapped around his love. Safe, warm, and comfortable in a sea of cushions like twin yolks in a shell.

Laying here, in his lover's arms, surrounded by low tranquil lights, and the gentle rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, Aaron felt as serene as he’d ever been. Spencer slid warm hands under Aaron’s shirt, bringing one up to rest cozily on his heart. Aaron turned his head and nuzzled further into Spencer’s neck, feeling the familiar tingle of the man’s touch and murmured a low hum of approval.

Spencer’s other hand, that wasn’t on Aaron’s heart, was used to tip the taller man’s chin up to look at him.

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he cooed, “sometimes it’s impossible to take yourself out of that world. But in our home, Aaron, I want you to feel safe and protected at all times. I want you to be vulnerable and unashamed. You’re free to be everything you are in here, and I hope that you feel you can be everything you are with me, too.”

Aaron lost himself in his partner’s deep gaze, glorious hazel eyes boring into him. Completely enamored by the words spoken to him, all he could do was nod and lick his lips, trying to regulate his heart rate for a completely different reason now. Spencer had never been so… authoritative before and his sincere but stern tone sent thrilling sparks down his spine. A blush rose up his neck.

Spencer tracked the slow movement of Aaron’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and didn’t fight the impulse to drag his thumb over it. “You’re always safe with me.” He barely whispered before angling his head down to catch those lips in a languid kiss. Aaron sighed into it, waiting a little while before pushing himself up to fix their awkward angle. He positioned them so that Spencer was laid down flat on his back, allowing Aaron to lay between his legs once more, chest to chest. They tangled themselves in each other, lips colliding again like a match to a box, igniting a fire in the both of them.

Both were still tired from waking up in the middle of the night, but the desire coursing through their bodies was a more pressing matter. Spencer lifted his hands to frame his lover’s neck and wrapped his legs loosely around his waist, inviting Aaron to grind down onto him, both already half hard from the anticipation. Spencer groaned into Aaron’s mouth. A sound that went right to Aaron’s dick.

They explored each other’s bodies with a youthful novelty, eager to feel more skin. Never once pulling their lips apart. Aaron slipped his hands under Spencer’s shirt and shoved it up under his arms, digging his fingers into those delicious hips. Finally he broke away from the kiss to pepper the younger’s face with sweet ones. Aaron’s heart grew three sizes at Spencer’s soft giggles and let out a low laugh of his own. How ridiculous were they, making out like teenagers in a bathtub fort? Neither much cared to answer that question though, because the impatient genius bucked his hips up to meet his boyfriend’s, who was still in his boxers, let’s get those off.

Spencer eagerly reached for Aaron’s underwear and palmed at his bulge just until he heard that impatient sound from him. He pulled the man’s cock out now fully hard and dripping with precum. A groan escaped the both of them at the sight and sensation. They wasted no time in getting Spencer out of his nerdy physics flannel pajama pants, and grinded their dicks together. Lighting sparked right through the both of them, Aaron balanced himself on one arm near Spencer’s head and took both of their lengths into his right hand.

The rub of their slick cocks together was spectacular as Aaron kept a slow and steady pace, making sure to draw out all the best sounds he knew Spencer could make by nipping at his neck, where he knew the younger man was ticklish. Spencer whined at the excruciating pace, turning into a desperate whimpering mess. Making Spencer wait was so fun.

Spencer’s hands find grip in Aaron’s short hair, keeping him close, feeling the pull of Aaron's big hand on his dick and grinding up to meet him. It’s intoxicating bliss, being taken over the edge by the man he loves.

Their worlds minimized to just the slide of their cocks and the lips on their skin. The whimpering man felt the familiar build up in his abdomen, moaning freely now as he chased his orgasm, guiding Aaron’s hand with his own to feel his touch everywhere.

“Yeah baby,” Aaron encouraged, his own orgasm coming on quickly, “Cum for me baby.”

Spencer sputtered his release over both of their hands and stomachs, momentarily suspended in the intense bliss of his orgasm. He laid there spent, feeling like putty in Aaron’s hands, and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He took his lover’s cock in hand and pumped him quickly, thumbing the head of his dick on each upstroke. Aaron came with a groan and a shudder, his arms gave out. They laid there catching their breaths for a while, ignoring the drying stickiness between them and tracing slow patterns on each other’s skin. They were so lucky to have each other.

“How are we going to shower now?” Aaron looked up and pouted.

“There’s a perfectly good sink just 5 feet away.” They laughed, Aaron pulled a blanket over them.

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

Taglist: @foxtrot91 @physics-magic @ssa-sarahsunshine @hearteyedhotch

[babygirl-diaz]

Hi, if you’re still looking for jealous Bucky promts. What if Sam is dating this guy, ( Sam thinks Bucky isn’t into him ( he very much is Sam is just oblivious)so he’s giving this guy a shot), and the guy seems all sweet and nice but the minute Sam isn’t around the guy teases Bucky ( in like a I got him when you couldn’t kind of way) and Bucky is just pining and stressed cause why is Sam with this dick instead of Bucky. Does that make sense? I’m not sure this prompt makes sense.

((First of all, so sorry for taking so long to write this. I was going through a writer's block. Second of all, this doesn't totally follow the prompt but I still hope you like it, anon!!))

***

“You need to back off.”

Bucky stops short of drinking his beer when he hears Aaron Blake, aka Sam’s new boyfriend, finally say something. They were hanging out at the bar Bucky worked at because Sam wanted his “two favorite boys” to get to know each other and spend some “quality time” together. Sam ended up having to take a call from Torres, so he was currently pacing outside while talking to the young man.

“Excuse me?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at the sharply dressed man.

“I know how you feel about Sam, Barnes,” said Blake. “And I need you to back off.”

To say Bucky was taken aback by Blake’s statement would be an understatement. He thought he hid his feelings for Sam well, but maybe he didn’t. If it was obvious to Aaron who Bucky had only met twice, then does that mean that Sam knew too? Bucky looked over at the window from where he could see Sam talking on the phone, his smile wide and bright as always.

“What? You got nothing to say for yourself?”

Bucky brought his attention back to Blake, who just glared at him. “Look, man, you had your chance. You’ve known Sam for more than half a decade and you never made a move which is on you. Now that he’s with me, you gotta let him be. Just back off.”

Bucky stayed quiet for a few moments, and just swished the beer around in its bottle. “And if I don’t?” He asked slowly. Challenge clear in his voice. He looked up to find Blake still glaring at him with those chocolate brown eyes of his.

“Then I’ll tell him how you feel about him…” That wasn’t a threat. It was a clear warning. .

“What?” All the confident facade Bucky was keeping up until now just faded away.

“And you know what will happen if I do,” Blake continued. “He will break all ties with you. You know what, that would be the best-case scenario for me. Maybe I should just tell him. That way he kicks you outta his life forever.”

Bucky’s grip tightened around the beer bottle. He was just about ready to break the bottle over Aaron Blake’s head. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Wouldn’t I?” Blake scoffed. “I love this man with all my heart--”

“So you’re gonna create a wedge between him and his best friend?” Bucky asked, looking up at Blake.

“I don’t want to,” replied Blake. “Your friendship means the world to Sam. He talks about you all the time to the point where I once wondered if he had feelings for you.”

Bucky perked up at that. Could it be? Could there be a smidge of a chance that Sam felt the same way about him?

“Don’t look so hopeful, man,” Blake huffed. “He doesn’t feel the same way. He made that quite clear.”

Bucky felt his heart break at the response. Part of him already knew that Sam didn’t feel the same way, but another part of him always held out hope that maybe there was a chance.

“Look, Bucky, you’re a great guy and I don’t wanna have to ruin your friendship with Sam. So just hear me out and back off. He is my boyfriend. You are just his best friend, that’s all.”

Bucky said nothing after that. He finished his beer and just scowled at Blake in return.

“Everything okay?” Sam returned after what seemed like hours. Bucky was sure that the tension between him and Blake was so palpable that you could cut through it with a knife.

“Lisa needs me to start my shift early so I gotta go.” Bucky refused to look at Sam as he got off his barstool and made his way to the back of the bar.

He could feel Sam’s eyes on the back of his head, but he refused to look at him.

Of course, his boss didn’t need him for an early shift, but he charmed her into giving him one. She could obviously tell something was wrong, but she thankfully didn’t ask.

Sam and Blake stayed at the bar for hours, but Bucky made it a point to ignore them. They just looked so happy together and Bucky couldn’t stand it.

Bucky wasn’t sure why Sam was with this asshole. Blake was nice on the outside, but once you got to know him, he showed his true colors. But then again, maybe he wasn’t that way with Sam. Maybe he treated Sam right. Bucky could only hope that he did.

It was almost the end of his shift and almost closing time, but Sam and Blake were still at the bar, much to his surprise.

Soon Aaron got up, gave Sam a long, deep kiss, and left but not before throwing a smirk Bucky’s way. Asshole.

Bucky frowned when Sam made his way to him at the bar and sat down on the stool right in front of him.

“So what’s up?” Sam asked.

Bucky kept cleaning the glasses, although they were spotless. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t like Aaron?”

“Why wouldn’t I like Blake?” Bucky practically snarled his name.

“Well, for one, you call him Blake instead of Aaron,” Sam pointed out. “And two, you just said his name like he was an offending piece of gum on your shoe.”

Maybe because he was. Bucky wanted to say but held himself back. “Why is it so important for you I like him?”

“Because you’re my best friend and he’s my boyfriend and I want you to get along.”

“Well, you can’t always get what you want,” Bucky huffed and turned away from Sam.

“Buck…”

Bucky could hear the desperation in Sam’s voice, but he ignored it.

“Just go home, Sam. I’ll be there soon.”

“No, I’m leaving with you and we’re talking about this.”

“No, we’re not,” Bucky replied stubbornly. “Now leave, Sam. I don’t have time for this.”

“No!” Sam was as stubborn as him. “I am not going anywhere. What is wrong? Talk to me.”

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”

“I did!” Sam sounded exasperated. “But he said to ask you.”

“Well, I’m telling you to ask him,” Bucky replied and tried to walk away but felt a hand on his flesh arm.

He looked up to find Sam glaring at him. “Don’t mess with me, Buck,” Sam warned. “Tell me, why don’t you like Aaron?”

Bucky easily pulled his arm out of Sam’s grip and moved around the counter to wake up the few drunkards who were left at the bar. “Come on, man, time to leave,” he told the last man and kicked him out before shutting the door behind him.

Sam was standing by the bar, watching him.

“Let me just clean up, then we can leave,” Bucky said, changing the subject. He took the last of the glasses and placed them on the counter.

“Did he do something?” Sam asked. “Or say something? He can be a bit--”

“Of an asshole? I agree,” Bucky scoffed as he started cleaning the bar.

“--opinionated,” Sam gave Bucky a pointed look, but it didn’t deter him. “But he’s a nice person. And he is most definitely not an asshole.”

“Says you.” Bucky knew he sounded like a child right now, but he didn’t care.

“What exactly did he do?” Sam threw his hands up in exasperation and got closer to Bucky.

“He said that he was going to break our friendship!” Bucky threw the rag on the bar and turned to Sam.

“And why would he do that, huh?” Sam asked. “What reason could he possibly have for breaking our friendship?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Bucky yelled.

“Well, I’m asking you!” Sam yelled back and grabbed Bucky’s arm again.

“BECAUSE HE KNOWS I FUCKING LOVE YOU!” Before Sam even had a chance to react, Bucky pressed him against the bar and kissed him. It was a brief kiss, tender kiss, in contrast to their heated argument. It didn’t pass Bucky’s notice that Sam didn’t kiss him back, so he let him go and stepped back.

“Buck…” Sam looked shell-shocked as he touched his lips.

“Well, there it is. I love you, Sam,” he said with a shrug.

“I--” Sam started to say but Bucky interrupted him.

“You don’t. I know.” Bucky turned around to leave when Sam’s voice stopped him.

“I used to,” is what he said.

Buck whirled on him and saw Sam standing there with a sad look on his face that broke Bucky’s heart even more.

“It took me a long time to get over you, Buck. So you don’t get to drop this on me! Not now! Not when I’m with someone else,” Sam said, getting angry once again. With that, he picked up his jacket and stormed out of the bar.

“Sam!” Bucky called out, but the other man did not stop.

When Bucky finally got home, he found the apartment empty. No sign of Sam anywhere. Bucky would have panicked if he didn’t already know where Sam might have gone.

He angrily threw his jacket aside and slid down the wall, letting his tears finally flow. Looks like he didn’t need Blake to do it. He had ruined everything with Sam himself.

[cinnaminsvga]

Sweeter than Strawberries | Jungkook

→ summary: at euphoria bakery, seasonal changes also bring seasonal menu items. when you find out that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake was phased out after the end of summer, it takes only one puppy eyed look from you for jeon jungkook to make it for you anyway—just don’t tell his boss about it, alright?

→ genre: bakery!au, s2l, fluff → warnings: none unless you count the fact that i’m writing shy!jungkook again :^D, we love mutual pining in this house ex dee → words: 4.5K → a/n: this was commissioned by @ihatemathanal​!! i was super stoked to write this bc it’s really cute and sometimes it’s nice to just write happy fluffy things every once in a while (aka zee is turning into a fluff writer jfc) it got a lil longer than it was supposed to, but that’s bc i got carried away lol anyway i hope you guys enjoy!! (ps: this also works for the bgw bingo so... tyg for s2l fics!! let’s get it!!)

For the most part, the beginning of autumn is usually your favorite time of the year. When the tree leaves begin to yellow and the air gains a significantly colder bite, this signifies the end of pit stains and sweaty thighs and the start of sweater paws and chapped lips. Above all, you are most excited, of course, for an excuse to gorge yourself on steaming mugs of hot chocolate, paired with delicious mountains of warm gooey brownies.

For the most part, these are all things that often get you excited for the coming chill. What you do not think to remember, however, is that while these seasonal changes bring more good than bad, there still remains a little snag: a small oversight, if you will. As businesses all over the world begin the annual transition to the colder months, so does your favorite bakery across the street from your university. After all, summer ingredients grow scarcer as the year nears its end, so it’s understandable for bakeries to switch up their menu to keep up with both the supply and demand.

What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, long story short—

Your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake is about to get phased out. No, scratch that—it’s already been phased out, right from under your very nose, no less!

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. You have always known it was a specialty drink; your best friend had even been the one to introduce it to you just near the end of your summer classes:

“This is Euphoria Bakery,” Namjoon had said with a smile, waving cheerily at the two boys manning the till. You heard him chuckle in amusement when your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, staring longingly at the sweet treats and baked goods lining the display case.

Namjoon had stolen your attention away, however, when he pointed to the chalkboard menu on the wall. As it turned out, the bakery also doubled as a cafe, serving the usual coffees and teas while also making the occasional specialty drink for different seasons or holidays. The chalkboard was decorated beautifully, the menu items written out in neat cursive with tiny little doodles littering its margins. On one of the boards, there was a new drink item being advertised in bold pink letters—a great summer treat!—or so it said.

“Jungkook-ssi, can you get me and Y/N a strawberry shortcake milkshake? Extra whipped cream for me, please!” Namjoon called out to one of the boys, startling the younger of the two. The boy, Jungkook, must have been busy fiddling with the cash register that he hadn’t noticed your arrival.

“N-Namjoon-hyung? Sorry, I was just busy counting the money—” Jungkook stopped short in his speech, his tongue getting caught in his mouth when his eyes landed directly on you. He had made a strangled sound, like he had swallowed his spit too quickly and was struggling to regain his composure. “H-Hello?”

You realized belatedly that he must have been greeting you, as you had been distracted by his fidgetiness. His nervousness was cute, if a little bit contagious; you couldn’t help feeling anxious too, like your heart was missing every other beat, even though you had no reason to be. “Hello! My name is Y/N. It’s my first time coming here, but Namjoon says your new summer menu item is really good? I wanted to try it out for myself.”

Jungkook nodded, still staring wide-eyed at you as if in a trance. You expected him to start... well. You weren’t an expert on how bakeries or cafes are run, but you were pretty sure he should’ve started doing something after you had spoken, perhaps ring up your order on the register, or start working on your drinks. Instead, he’s still frozen in place, like he’d somehow short-circuited within the last two minutes.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed his odd behavior because the man working with him suddenly pushed Jungkook to the side, a brief smirk flashing across his face before it was quickly replaced by a more subdued, professional smile.

“Sorry about him. He’s usually my best baker, but sometimes he can get a little... distracted when he’s confronted with sweet things,” the man said nonchalantly, but it seemed that his innocent-sounding comment had embarrassed Jungkook greatly.

“Jimin-hyung!” Jungkook whined, stomping his foot not unlike a bunny. If you squinted a little bit, you could definitely see the resemblance.

Namjoon, who had been quietly watching everything unfold, chose that moment to pipe up. “Oh, I see. I didn’t know you had a type, but after thinking about it—” Namjoon shot a surreptitious glance at you, before turning back to Jungkook with a teasing grin, “—I can definitely see why.”

At the time, you had no idea what was going on, mostly confused as to why Jungkook had suddenly become so red-faced while Namjoon and Jimin giggled like a couple of high school girls. It seemed like you were somehow the main reason for his embarrassment, so you were quick to poke Namjoon in the stomach, effectively silencing him.

“Hey! Stop teasing the poor boy. He’s just being nice,” you said, pointing a soft smile back at Jungkook. “Sorry about him. I’m sure you’re an excellent baker, judging from how wonderful and cute all these cakes on the display look.” Somehow, your praise had only made Jungkook’s cheeks brighten even further. He cleared his throat as if to say something in response, before changing his mind and scuttling away to the back room instead.

“I’m going to start making your milkshake! D-don’t mind me!” He called out from behind the door, causing Jimin to finally break down into raucous giggles, nearly doubling over from his own mirth.

“Aish, that kid. He never learns, huh…” Jimin sighed, but the smile on his face is kind—the sort of fond look an older brother might have for his kid brother. He turned back to you and Namjoon with that lingering softness as he rang the two of you up, before chatting idly with you as you waited for Jungkook to finish making your drinks.

“I’ve never seen you around, Y/N-ssi. Jungkook—sorry, I meant I definitely would’ve noticed you if I did. You go to the same university as Namjoon-ssi, right?” Jimin asked, flipping a pen between his fingers with incredible dexterity. You were slightly distracted by that, faintly jealous of how his short fingers could somehow manage such a feat.

“I—yeah, I do. I’m assuming you’re also a student?”

“Yep. I actually met Namjoon-ssi when we took that one music theory class together. I was handing out flyers for this bakery after class and he happened to be one of the first people to actually come,” he said, winking at Namjoon. You watched with much interest when your friend turned a faint shade of pink, his hand coming up behind his neck—a signature tick of his whenever he was feeling shy or nervous.

“I-It was nothing… I mean, your seasonal drinks are always so good! I remember your old snowman-shaped donuts with the raspberry filling? I still dream of it sometimes,” Namjoon sighed, eyes going glassy for a moment.

Jimin laughed, his eyes crinkling into cute little crescents. “Oh, stop it! I remember how you’d come here even after we stopped serving that donut and you’d beg us to make them again.”

“And yet you never did, even though I know you have the ingredients to make them,” Namjoon pouted, but there’s endearment dancing in his expression.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I never pegged Namjoon as a sweet-tooth guy, so this is honestly all a very big surprise to me. I should be pumped for this milkshake then, huh? Hopefully, you aren’t just hyping it up and I’ll end up disappointed.”

Before either Namjoon or Jimin could retort, Jungkook had reappeared from the back room with two large cups in hand, almost tripping over his untied apron string but managing to get to the counter in one piece.

“Here you go. I hope you won’t be disappointed when you try it,” he said, gaze averted downwards when he hands you your cup. Your fingers grazed each other for a second, nearly causing both of you to drop the drink like it was on fire.

“S-sorry,” you laughed it off, feeling your ears get a little red from your blunder. You pointedly ignored Namjoon’s arched brow, no doubt enjoying your sudden shyness. Without waiting for him to get his own cup, you casually tear off the straw wrapper and take your first sip of the drink.

“So?” Jungkook asked after a while, watching with bated breath as you take a good gulp of the milkshake. “How is it? Is it worth the hype?” You don’t speak for a moment, further aggravating the two bakers as you carefully chewed on the bits of strawberry in the drink.

“This—” you said, speaking slowly for increased dramatic effect. You could hear Namjoon groan beside you, used to your need for unnecessary anticipation. Even as you paused for a moment longer, you could already feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to completely hide your giddiness. “—is fantastic. Show-stopping. Best thing since sliced bread! I could live on this shit alone.”

Jungkook released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, chuckling in relief as you began to completely devour the treat in mere minutes. “I’m… really glad you like it,” he said with a wide, toothy grin. You were so immersed in your drink that you missed the way he sighed softly, hand gently cradling his chest where his heart would be.

Namjoon had taken his own sip as well, sighing dreamily as the creamy and sweet flavor overtook his palate. “Truly the best drink in existence. If I was a Twitch streamer or some shit, I’d promote this regularly for free.”

His comment made Jimin giggle softly, but his gaze is trained on something else entirely. “I’m flattered, but maybe don’t promote Y/N’s cup, over here. We don’t typically have strawberries and hearts doodled all over our cups,” he said, smirking slyly.

Lo and behold, your cup did have small doodles littering its sides whereas Namjoon’s was just a plain white paper cup. “Oh,” you said, blushing furiously when you finally noticed. Your flush was nothing compared to the one on Jungkook’s cheeks, however. The two of you refused to make eye contact after that, both of you trying (and failing) to silence the amused snickers of your respective friends.

Despite that slightly embarrassing (and heartwarming) experience, that had marked the start of your love for the tiny bakery and their special strawberry shortcake milkshake. You returned to Euphoria Bakery as often as you could throughout the summer, even going to visit it without Namjoon most of the time. You would even occasionally go out of your way to visit the bakery, even after your summer classes had ended and there was really no reason for you to be around the area.

It also didn’t hurt that the boy behind the counter was especially cute, with his big doe eyes and melodic laughter that always got your heart beating erratically in your chest. It hadn’t taken long for you to admit to yourself that you had a not-so-tiny crush and every visit to the bakery only made you fall deeper for him.

Namjoon has assured you that Jungkook clearly has a crush on you too, but you’re quick to shut him down. It is one thing to be shy and awkward around a girl and another to have a crush on the aforementioned girl. As you visited the bakery more and more, you do notice that Jungkook is more reserved when it comes to other female clientele, although, dare you hope? He does seem a little bit more… nervous, when he talks to you, but that could be your lovesick eyes playing tricks on you.

Never mind the fact that he only ever seems to leave cute doodles on your cups alone, but that could just be a coincidence, right? After all, he can hardly hold a conversation with you when you try to speak with him, always eager to rush to the backroom to make your drink.

Your visits usually consist of making idle chit chat with Jimin after greeting both him and Jungkook. The younger boy often dips the moment he sees you through the glass door, automatically going to prepare your favorite summer treat without even having to ask for your order. He never stays to stick around long enough to make conversation, as he eventually excuses himself to do some chore or another. During one of your trips, you tentatively asked Jimin if Jungkook was avoiding you, to which the blonde boy just laughed heartily at your query.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. He’ll come around eventually; he’s just nervous. Don’t tell him I told you this, but…” he trails off, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Jungkook wouldn’t accidentally overhear him. When he turns back to you, the smirk on his face is equal parts amused and mischievous. He looks a little impish, though you aren’t sure if he’d take that too kindly. “Jungkook always stares out the door, waiting for you to arrive. I’ve caught him red-handed far too many times for it to be a coincidence.”

Your cheeks flush warmly at his words but don’t say anything after that. You suppose all you can do is wait for him to start warming up to you eventually, and you hope the day comes sooner as the summer days grow shorter and shorter.

Of course, that day does come eventually, but probably not on the day you wished it would happen.

Like all good things, summer comes to its close and so does the summer menu options offered at Euphoria Bakery. Jimin had already told you a week beforehand that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake would get phased out as soon as July hit, but you refused to listen. You had hoped that as his regular customer and friend, perhaps Jimin would make an exception and prolong the milkshake’s lifetime for your sake, but it seems that Jimin has made it clear that friendship and business are two separate entities that he will not allow to coincide.

“Please Jimin? Just one more time? I’ll even settle for a small size,” you beg, your entire body draped over the cashier counter like the pathetic plebeian that you are. Thankfully, since you have made it a habit to pass by the bakery when it’s close to closing time, there aren’t any other patrons left to judge your pitiful display. Unthankfully, that also means Jimin is free to flick you on the forehead with no holds barred, leaving a large red welt where his finger hits.

“I already told you that I won’t budge, not even if you licked my Balenciagas. Besides, we’re out of strawberries anyway.” Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes at your pained whines as you grasp your head in agony. “Oh stop it, will you? I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ, hyung.” Jungkook pipes up, startling both you and Jimin. Jungkook is usually content to wiping down the glass displays or tables while he passively listens to the two of you bicker, humming occasionally to indicate that he’s still listening, so it comes as a small surprise whenever he does decide to speak up. He must have noticed this too, as his ears quickly begin to redden as he scrambles to finish his sentence. “I-I mean, hyung might have small hands, but his finger flicks are no joke. You could break someone’s skull with that thing.”

“Who are you calling small, huh?” Jimin growls, but the playful smirk on his face tells you that he’s just teasing. He pulls Jungkook in a headlock, who surprisingly doesn’t seem all that bothered by the fact that Jimin is actively trying to block his windpipe with his strong forearms. “Take it back!”

“Never,” Jungkook wheezes, effortlessly removing himself from Jimin’s grip. He dusts himself off, not even breathless. “Also, why’d you lie to Y/N like that? We still have strawberries in the back. How else would we make our strawberry jam tarts?”

Jimin squawks indignantly, folding his arms. “How dare you sell out our company secrets! I could fire you for that!”

Jungkook scoffs, bumping Jimin with his hip. Jungkook must also not know his own strength, because he accidentally causes Jimin to stumble a few steps back, nearly toppling over one of their bread racks. “You’re joking. If you fired me, no one would be able to make the bagels in the morning because you never know how to proof them correctly.”

“Slander!” Jimin hisses, pinching Jungkook’s side in retaliation. You and Jungkook laugh at his childish pouts, but the older boy can’t hide his own mirth for too long. “Fine. You can stay. But you,” he points at you this time, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You better not seduce my boy over here to make your strawberry shortcake milkshake. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He drags his finger to the corner of the walls, where there is—

“There’s nothing there?” You follow where he’s pointing, but all you can see is a stray cobweb that Jungkook must have missed while dusting this morning. “Am I supposed to be looking at something?”

“Jimin is thinking of installing surveillance cameras soon. He’s convinced that someone is trying to steal his banana cream pie recipe.” Jungkook shrugs. He slings an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, glaringly delighted when their height difference becomes even more apparent while he stands close to him. “Anyway, I promise I won’t get ‘seduced’ by her, or whatever you want to call it. Why don’t you head home early for tonight? I’ll close up and I’ll try to convince Y/N to try our other pastries as a replacement.”

You open your mouth to try and protest, but Jungkook sends you a cheeky wink, making sure that his boss doesn’t catch him in the act. Bemused but interested to see what he’s up to, you decide to keep quiet and wait for him to continue.

“Don’t try and think you’re being slick here, buddy,” Jimin says, closing in on Jungkook’s personal space by pressing his chest against his. “If I see that you break the bakery code and serve her that drink… There will be consequences.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically as he gently pries the smaller man away from him. “Yeah, yeah. I got you. No funny business, I promise. Now get out of here, hyung. Leave the rest to me.”

Jimin gives him one last firm look before squinting warily at you, lips pursed tightly. “No seducing,” he repeats, wagging his finger at you. He unties the apron around his neck, throwing it haphazardly at the coat hanger on the back door where his jacket was hanging. He folds it over his arm and points at the corner of the ceiling with his free hand once more before exiting through the front entrance, the soft bells hanging above the doorway tinkling in his wake.

When he’s gone, you release a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. “Well, that was easier than expected. I didn’t think you’d be able to get him to leave. He must trust you a lot, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Nah. He’s just lazy. He hates closing the bakery and will jump at any opportunity to go home early.”

You nod. “Seems like him.” There’s a beat of silence. “So… How much seducing am I gonna have to do to get my milkshake, huh?”

Like you guessed, Jungkook immediately turns red at your words, spluttering and stammering over his spit for a few seconds before managing to come up with a reply. “O-oh, there’s no need for that. I was gonna make the drink for you anyway.”

“But what about the quote-unquote consequences?” you ask, still worried that you might be getting Jungkook in trouble. You’d rather have your arm cut off than have him get punished, no matter how small it might be.

“No need to worry about that. Jimin might pretend to be a prickly old man sometimes, but he’s mostly just full of hot air,” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “He’ll just make me treat him to some skewers or something. He’s just teasing.”

“If… If you say so? I just really don’t want him to get angry with you…” you say, voice turning small as you tried to reign your embarrassment in. “I know I made a fool of myself just moments ago and begged like a baby for the milkshake, but I was just exaggerating…”

“Something tells me that you aren’t, but let’s pretend for your sake that you are,” Jungkook says. You huff indignantly at his teasing, but you’re more overjoyed by the sight of his cute bunny smile. You had only seen it in passing a few times in the past, but seeing it directed at you is an entirely different experience. Because of you, your mind helpfully supplies.

He heads over to the backroom to begin preparing your drink, but he keeps the door open this time so you can see him even from behind the counter. You can mostly only see the large industrial ovens and bread racks filled to the brim with all sorts of pastries proofing for the night, but you do catch a glimpse of the sole blender near the back. Jungkook grabs the glass jar first and then walks over to the fridge just out of your sight, most likely to grab the ingredients needed for your milkshake.

The bakery is mostly silent, save for the sound of Jungkook moving and assembling everything. You rack your brain for some sort of conversation starter, as the atmosphere between the two of you has begun to return to its usual awkward state as you skirt around each other, unsure of where either of you stands. You might have known him for a while now, but today is the most you’ve ever spoken to him and the tension is palpable.

“So.” You clear your throat, heart beating a mile a minute in your chest. “I… guess this is going to be the last time I have this drink, huh?”

The sound of Jungkook chopping on the cutting board pauses for a second. You can only see his left shoulder from where you’re standing, but you can see it tense even then. “I… I mean, will you stop coming over to the bakery if it is the last time?”

There are so many things you want to say all at once, but the words somehow get caught in your throat. You want to say that you love coming to the bakery to see them (though it’s mostly Jungkook if you’re being honest) and that the strawberry shortcake milkshake had just been an excuse to visit for a while now. You want to keep visiting for as long as they’ll have you—but you don’t know how to say it without hot humiliation running down your spine. You don’t want to weird him out by confessing to him all of a sudden. And so, you clam up, not knowing how to respond.

When Jungkook throws in all the ingredients in the blender, he doesn’t turn it on immediately. He tilts his head to the side, not fully looking at you but giving you a view of his beautiful side profile. You see his Adam’s apple bob for a moment, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he speaks. “Because… If that’s how it’s going to be, then maybe… buying a couple of skewers for Jimin won’t be so bad.”

You freeze. “What? Are you saying that...”

“I’ll keep making the drink for you, even if it’s not on the menu anymore?” Jungkook finishes, turning fully to face you. There’s a shy grin on his face, coupled with the ever-present pink flush high on his cheekbones. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We’ll have to be sneaky about it, though. You’ll have to come to the bakery only when I’m closing so that he doesn’t catch us but otherwise…” He scratches the tip of his nose, looking embarrassed. “If… If you’re fine doing that, I mean.”

It feels like an eternity before you can remember how to function like a regular human being again. Your insides feel like molten lava and you’re certain that your internal organs have begun to self-destruct right after that super-effective hit from Jeon Jungkook, super baker boy extraordinaire. It’s mind-blowing how effortlessly cute he can be, making you realize belatedly that his quiet demeanor over the past few weeks had been a blessing and not a curse. If he had been this sweet with you from the get-go, you’d surely be melted butter on a sidewalk by now.

“I would love you—I mean, I would love it if you did that for me, actually.” You stammer, resisting the urge to punch yourself in the tit. You’re thankful for the lack of mirrors at the bakery, for you are positive that you must look like the devil’s blazing red testicles at this point.

“Great,” Jungkook smiles softly. He turns the blender off, pouring your drink into a paper cup. “Oh, before I forget…” He grabs a marker from the small tin can near the cash register, and you watch as he quickly scribbles a few hearts around the circumference of the cup. “There we go. Now it’s done.”

As Jungkook hands your drink to you, you’re hit with a moment of déjà vu when your fingers brush just like the first time you had met. You sense the same familiar shock of electricity when you touch, but instead of pulling away like before, Jungkook surprises you for the third time that day.

When he’s sure that you have a secure grip on your cup, he grabs your free hand with his, unfurling your fingers until he can get a hold of your pinky. He curls his pinky into yours, linking them together with a bashful smile on his lips. “There. Now we pinky promised to each other.”

“Y-yes. Of course,” you mumble, giggling lightly when he still refuses to let go. “I pinky promise.”

.

.

.

Five minutes away from Euphoria Bakery, Jimin sits quietly in his parked car, his figure hunched over the small screen of his phone as he chuckles loudly to himself. There is a tiny video of two people, a boy and a girl, with their hands held together. Despite the quality being grainy and warped, Jimin needs no confirmation as to who those people are; he’s always known, after all.

“All according to keikaku.” He whistles happily, already salivating at the thought of all the skewers Jungkook will have to buy for him.

[yinses]

fractured kingdoms

| he made you a princess ... it was only right for him to play the white knight |

gojo satoru rating: t

a/n: so i had an idea. this is more of a premise for a potential series that will doubtfully be chaptered in order. i have terrible luck with that. more or less snapshots of this dynamic to see where it takes me. i always write best on new episode release days. 

gojo satoru used to enjoy his job- hell he was practically born for the role of exorcising curses. as a first year, along with his fellow classmates, he thought he could change the world. 

it was an optimistic goal that he never quite lost sight of but his mindset had changed over the years. having a best friend turn on an entire organization coupled with gatekeeping elders who should have died last century could do that to anyone's ambitions. 

so when gojo accepted a case, he did it but the task was conducted his own way on his own time. 

it was the least he could do for an institution who took advantage of his inherited ability. 

he was already planning out his order for the little pastry shoppe around the corner as he cleared a plethora of curses making themself home in the old abandoned fish packing plant. the acrid and heavy atmosphere had cultivated a miasma of stupidity it seemed, enticing the youth to come seek out nonexistent mysteries and claim their own death instead.

proclaimed haunted grounds like this were always prevalent breeding grounds for the weaker lot who couldn't chance hunting alone. the pack mentality made them look stronger than what they were. 

it was all just troublesome work for him. 

gojo quickly surveyed the mess that lay before him- bodies broken beyond identification. showing them to the morning families would only increase the amount of negative energy already floating around the area. it would be better to just shut down the perimeter completely for proper purging. 

that was something ijichi could manage. 

his hand twitched for his pocket to order such when he felt a lingering weight of cursed energy. this essence wasn’t like the others- in fact he didn’t recall even noticing it until now. 

with a huff he slouched into a relaxed stance, infinity tightening around his body, “now, now. let’s not make this harder for ourselves. i have a tight schedule after all.” if he was lucky, he could make two stops instead of his scheduled one. he’d like some nice bobba tea to go with his treat.

gojo waited a moment longer, willing to make it fair for once. but then nothing happened. these might be his least favorite curses, those born from cowardice. 

he fingered the edge of his blindfold in contemplation. taking it off may be overkill, but something about the situation insists upon it. intrigued by the shift, he pulls the material down to his chin and takes in the factory in its entirety. 

for a second there was nothing. then blue eyes flicker upward.

“oh wow. pretty, pretty.”

something in the rafters rustles, and a small thud sounded to his right as a figure landed gracefully less than a foot away. 

it was daring, to say the least. most curses avoided his aura, not willing entered it. but the most unsettling thing was that it spoke.

the level of cursed energy emanating from the form did not match with the intelligence it was portraying. it could be mimicry, a set of learned phrases used to trick and lure. but even known when and how to use them-

not to mention they’d commented specifically on his eyes. 

“it’s rude not to thank a lady when she offers a compliment.”

gojo couldn’t resist turning at that. 

it was a lady; perhaps more correctly a girl- possibly in her early twenties. there were no errant limbs or monstrous editions. she looked normal, almost human. maybe even an amateur sorcerer if he’d just focused on the energy she emitted. 

a low grade shaman may have actually mistaken her for one. 

that would have been a shame.

gojo brought his hand over his heart in an apologetic gesture,” sorry, it was your own beauty that stopped me short.”

her lips pulled back and the white of her teeth sent a thrilling chill down his spine. 

how interesting indeed. 

he motioned vaguely to the remains,” am i to assume this was your court?” curses congregating deceive humans was one thing, but to kneel to a higher authority.

an unregistered special grade.

that would be problematic.

her eyes raked over the scene with disinterest,”oh that shit show? as if i would associate myself with them.”

“well that’s not very nice. most princess have better opinions of their subjects.”

her smile widen. oh, she liked that. 

gojo carefully braced himself to remain undeterred as she took a casual step forward. instincts urged him to eliminate it on the spot but curiosity begged him to learn more. 

as if she felt his hesitancy, she stopped. “princess, huh? will you kneel for me too?”

he laughs at that, “oh i don’t think my superiors would appreciate me doing that.”

there is a brief period of silence and gojo waits with baited breath for the fighting to start. she was obviously retaining her cursed energy, eventually it would overflow to its true capacity. part of gojo actually would regret silencing this one, it wasn’t often that they were this interesting. 

when it appeared that she wasn’t going to make the first move, he sighed,” well, unfortunately this has gone on long enough-”

“what kind of sweets do you like?”

gojo blinked dumbly. 

“ah, that depends, i suppose. there is this really nice bakery not far from here that makes great manju.” his next destination after he got rid of this curse. why was he even drawing this out? he didn’t feel particularly compelled or threatened, to be frank. 

“i’ll have to try it then!”

gojo is left to stare at the palm extended outward. 

“can i have money please?”

                                                  ⚘  ⚘  ⚘

against his better judgement, gojo offers to buy them for her instead. 

seated across from the curse, he watches her quietly as she ate through two orders with ease. he also watches the floating civilians around her. not all human were immune to curses, occasionally one with a weak sense would notice something. 

but the clerk didn’t miss a single beat when taking her order.

“um… are you going to eat that?”

gojo looked down at the reason why he’d come out this far in the first place and back to the empty plate in front of him. he didn’t think twice before giving her third serving in the last twenty minutes. 

“how interesting.”

she looked up mid bite,”wha?”

curling his fingers into a fist to lean into, gojo gave her his full attention,” do you know what you are?”

“well, i’m a girl. opposite of what you are,’’ she explains snidely. for someone who had been given a free treat, she was a bit of a brat. 

more importantly, gojo wasn’t detecting any blatant evasion in her speech. it … wasn’t possible for her to actually believe that she was human. perhaps she could be a misguided curse, but what mortal girl would hang out with such monstrous friends. she hadn’t even denied their existence in the factory. 

gojo decides to cut to the chase,” we both know you’re not a regular girl.”

she brings the fork to her mouth,”i thought we established that i was a princess?”

oh, this was bad. gojo really should have just finished her before. he should not have invested this far. and certainly should not have bought her mangu.

the only thing worse than an unorthodox gojo, was one equipped with a fresh idea. 

[ahsbitch]

The Grey-Outpost!Michael Langdon x Reader

Word Count: 5143

Summary: So I got this message for my prompts and it was supposed to just be a blurb like the others but it was already getting way too long and then I realized it would fit really well with a oneshot idea I had a month or two ago sooo here we are

Warnings: so many, nsfw, smut, virginity loss, first time, first orgasm, actually first three lmao, fingering, choking, Mean!Michael, slapping, overstimulation, emotional manipulation, brief blowjob, unprotected sex, breeding kink, a little bit of corset kink, some cockwarming bc it’s me, very Sub!Reader, also overly nice reader which probably doesn’t need a warning but I’m putting it anyway, , mentions of violence, some waxing poetic bc again that’s just me, floor licking, some?underwear stuff? Idk man, did I mention swearing bc that’s here too, idk, that’s all I can think of but my brain is not entirely focused so if I missed something I’m sorry

A/N: I’m sorry I’m like this but I hope it’s okay. Comments are always appreciated! Even just in the tags of a reblog! Or a message! Or anything! Hearing your reactions makes me feel so good!

Mini Tag List: @wroteclassicaly​ @michaellangdonstanaccount​ @guiltyfiend​

@angelicmichael​

(i actually don’t remember if all of you asked to be tagged in stuff or not so if you didn’t i’m really sorry i just thought i’d put a few people, if you want me to...Not tag you in stuff that’s totally cool and i totally get it just let me know, if you do want me to tag you in stuff also let me know on that front) 

You confused Michael Langdon. 

It wasn’t intentional, he was sure, but he was not used to being confused by the behavior of humans.

You also annoyed him, although that was less surprising. 

Most people annoyed him. 

But you annoyed him for the same reason that you confused him, and that just made him all the more confused and annoyed and annoyed and confused. 

How the hell were you so nice? 

You treated everyone who crossed your path with such kindness, even though most of them treated you like you were dog shit on the bottom of their shoe. And you simply...smiled? Nodded? Did as they said, if they gave an order, or ignored them if it was just words. 

He had never even seen you complain about your servant status, never seen you look at the drab grey of your dress with even an ounce of disdain. 

He’d taken to reading your thoughts, even more than he did with the others, trying to find the cruelty hidden inside you. 

Once, one of the Purples whose name Michael hadn’t bothered to learn had walked into a ladder that you were standing on for some job or another, and you had fallen to the ground, landing hard on your back. The Purple had cursed at you for getting in his way, and you apologized instantly. 

What an asshole, You had thought, and Michael had started to get excited, but a moment later you had shaken your head at yourself, and your thoughts continued, No, Y/N, don’t be unfair. They live a different type of life here. It’s not his fault that he sees me like this at this point, he’s practically been indoctrinated.

What utter bullshit that was, and yet you’d seemed completely contented with that thought, climbing back onto the ladder to finish your task. 

Another time he had walked in on you being beaten while Venable watching, smirking. He had simply stared for a while, watching the way you took your blows. 

“What’s going on?” Michael had asked, blood boiling at Venable’s smug expression. 

“A reminder. She’s been a bit slow in her work lately. Distracted, I think, with your proposal of paradise. She needed to remember her place.” 

He had nodded, turning back to observe you, listening for your reaction to those words. 

I haven’t been slower, though. She’s just been angrier. Poor Ms. Venable, she must be scared. I wish she wouldn’t take it out on me, Your stream of thought had paused as you let out a cry of pain, But I hope that she’ll find some type of peace. 

In interviews, Michael had started to ask about you. 

“She’s nice,” Gallant had said rather dismissively, “That’s about it. Not memorable. I don’t think anyone would miss her.” 

“She helps everyone finish their work, even though she has her own,” Another Grey had said, tilting his head to the side in thought, “I saw her take a beating in Mallory’s place once for a broken lamp. I don’t think that’s the only time she’s done that, either. She’s a little too sweet, almost. It can’t be real, can it?”

That was Michael’s thought too, but you were that sweet, or so it seemed. 

He’d begun instructing everyone during their interviews to either completely ignore you or be cruel to you, to treat you with extra disdain, to not bother with respect. He’d told Purples and Greys alike, had watched out to see them following his orders. They were doing it, and you were slowly becoming more and more alone,and yet you never so much as thought anything cruel in return. From time to time, a nasty thought would pop into your head, but you always brushed it away almost instantly, scolding yourself into something overly forgiving of their behavior. Still, you were lonelier than ever, and that meant that it would be all the easier to draw you to him. 

Your interview was the last one that was scheduled, and with every moment that led up to it he found himself getting more and more ready to break you down, and every time he thought of that he found his cock getting harder and harder. 

He was going to ruin you, in more ways than one. 

And then the interview had started, you sitting in your chair with your hands folded neatly in your lap, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with him, a polite smile on your face, and something had snapped deep inside him. 

He wasn’t sure what did it. Maybe it was your answer to why you should be taken to the Sanctuary. 

“I don’t know that I should,” You’d said simply, your damned respectful smile never wavering, “I mean, it would be nice. But I’m not particularly special, right? And if the Sanctuary is meant to be people carrying on the human race, shouldn’t it be the people who are going to make the biggest difference? I know you said that what I thought i was weakness could be my saving, and I get that, I just don’t know if I have any particular weaknesses or any particular saving graces. If you need someone to wash floors or cook in the Sanctuary, then yeah, I’m pretty good at those things. You might want me. But I don’t know that I have any particular talents or powers that would make me more useful than anyone else.” 

Maybe it was what you had said when he’d asked about your anger, about whether or not you would get revenge on any of the others for the way they’d treated you, if you got the chance.

You shrugged, taking a few moments to think about your answer before you spoke, “No. I don’t blame them for it, not really. The world ended. The fact that any of us are alive is strange enough as it is. Them being cruel is probably more of a defense mechanism than anything else. I wish they wouldn’t use me for their anger, or their disdain, or their sadness, I kinda wish they’d just leave me alone sometimes, but I wouldn’t want to get revenge even if I got the chance. I don’t think they deserve to be treated badly, even if they’ve treated me badly.” 

But most likely, it had been your answer when he’d asked what exactly you were thinking about right in that moment. 

“The end of the world, Mr. Langdon, sir,” Your smile finally dropped for just a moment, your embarrassment evident, “And your eyes. They’re very beautiful. I was thinking that heaven probably isn’t real, but if it is, it probably looks something like your eyes. But of course it’s much more likely that hell is real, based on recent events, in which case it probably looks something like the world we live in right now.” 

Michael had stood, instructing you to do the same, and within moments his lips were on yours. 

Yes, he was going to ruin you in every way possible. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was so totally not how you had planned for your interview to go. 

Was it how Langdon had planned for it to go? Maybe. You wondered vacantly if this had happened with all of his other interviews, if all of them had found themselves lying on the floor, pinned underneath him, feeling him hungrily devouring their mouths in perhaps the best kiss that anyone had ever experienced. 

He trailed kisses down to your throat, hot, open mouthed, that you felt even though they were over the high collar of your dress, and he bit down hard, sucking harshly through the fabric. 

“Fuck!” You groaned out, feeling your skin go hot with embarrassment over the noises you were making. 

“Don’t hold back, pet,” He moved his mouth to your ear, kissing the spot just behind your earlobe as he murmured, “You make the most delightful little noises.” 

This served only to embarrass you more, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek to try and hide the moans that threatened to spill from you. 

Langdon’s hand made its way to your neck, squeezing at it as he pulled your head up closer to his, and you let out a pained whine at the pressure his palm put onto the sore spot he had just left on your throat, “Did you not hear me? Don’t hold back. I expect you to follow my orders. I’d think you’d be used to that by now.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” You let out a strangled cry, and with a sharp smile he finally released you, letting your head drop back against the floor. 

“Next time you don’t listen to me, you will be,” He chuckled at your terrified expression, but after a moment he froze, raising a curious eyebrow at you, “What are you thinking about right now?” 

You weren’t naive enough to think that he actually cared about how you were feeling, but you answered anyway, scared of what may happen if you didn’t, “Honestly? I’m trying to decide if I’m more likely to be murdered by you or by Ms. Venable.” 

Langdon laughed again, moving off of you and leaning against the wall. He looked oddly comfortable like that, although you wouldn’t be surprised if his outfit cost more than the entire Outpost, and with a wolfish grin he patted his lap gently. 

You frowned, unsure of what that meant, but Langdon simply rolled his eyes and wrapped a hand around your wrist, tugging you into his lap. 

This was… odd.

After a moment, he gripped both of your wrists, raising your arms up and placing them on his shoulders, and you locked your fingers around the back of his neck, staring dumbly at him as you did so. 

His legs extended straight out, but he held you steady in his lap, arm wrapped your hips, your own legs perpendicular to his. 

This was very odd. 

“Now tell me,” It was interesting, the way Langdon’s words sounded more like a purr, “Why do you think that I would kill you?” 

Shyly you dropped your gaze, but then his hand was under your chin, lifting until you looked him in the eye, and you shrugged, “I mean… you said you would. It was like the first thing you told me when I came in. That if I lied or hedged or anything like that you’d...y’know...obliterate me.” 

“And have you lied to me?” His voice was sharp now, his eyes dangerous, although something playful still danced around the edges of his lips. 

“No!” You flinched, prepared for him to hit you even though he made no movement to do so, and after a minute, after you’d realized that no strike was coming, you blinked at him, “I, uh, no, sir. But you’re, well, forgive me for saying so, Mr. Langdon, but you’re very intimidating.” 

He was frowning now, just a little, and you probably wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been so fascinated by his mouth, “I’m glad you find me intimidating. I’d be a bit concerned for your sanity if you didn’t. But I have no plans at the moment to kill you, and as long as you keep telling me the truth like this, I doubt it’ll arise. Now, why would Venable kill you?” 

“She’s strict about her rules,” You felt your face heating up again, “No sexual contact of any kind. And we, y’know, we kissed. If she finds out, well, she’d even kill a Purple for breaking the rules so explicitly like that. She’d kill a Grey for a lot less.” 

“And we’ll be doing a lot more,” Langdon’s smooth voice echoed in your ears, and you shivered slightly at the insinuation, “Venable will not touch you.”

“Why not?” Your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked before you could think about the fact that it was probably a bad idea. 

Luckily, Langdon did nothing more than chuckle at you again, shifting slightly underneath you, “Because if anyone here is going to harm you, pet, it’s going to be me.” 

For some reason, his words made you clench your thighs, and you swallowed to avoid letting out a whine. 

“Yes sir,” You said softly, and then, when he’d started pressing kisses along your jaw, “There’s one more thing.” 

“And what would that be?” 

Clearing your throat, you fought to keep holding eye contact with him, “I don’t, I mean, I don’t want to be one of those people who fucks someone to get something. I don’t want to sleep with you just in hopes of going to the Sanctuary, especially because you could easily say you’re going to take me until after we’re done and then tell me you’ve changed your mind or something. I don’t want that. I’d rather you just... tell me the truth now.” 

“Alright,” Sighing, Langdon straightened up a little, shifting beneath you again so that you suddenly became aware of his erection pressing into you, “You’re not going to the Sanctuary, Y/N. Not even if we fuck. And we are going to fuck, you understand that, right?” 

“Yes sir,” You felt your gaze drop to his lips once more, “I understand. The Sanctuary thing and the fucking thing. May I please kiss you again?” 

“Not only may you do so, but I insist that you do,” His voice was cold now, but one look into his eyes showed you that he was pleased about this, and you frantically brought your mouth to his. 

Langdon slammed you back to the ground, and your head cracked loudly against the marble floor, making you feel a bit dizzy, and then his fingers found their way between the buttons of your dress and he pulled sharply, ripping it in half, and that made you feel even dizzier.

Holy fuck, how strong was he? 

“Lovely,” He murmured, his mouth running over your collarbones and up the curves of your neck, sucking dark bruises onto your skin as he went, “Don’t forget what I told you. I want to hear every single one of your sounds, understood?”

“Yes sir,” Your hands made their way to his hair almost of their own accord as he continued on, mouth drifting down to swirl over your covered nipples. 

“Turn around,” Langdon commanded, and he hummed his approval when you followed his instructions in merely a moment, kneeling before him but facing the wall. 

His long fingers made their way to the ties of your corset, beginning to work on the knot, and he frowned, “This is tied very tightly, pet. Doesn’t it hurt?” 

“I had Mallory tie it extra tightly for me, so I would have something to focus on other than my nerves for the interview,” You let out a hiss of relief as the corset came untied, “It wouldn’t hurt much, but you’re supposed to wear something under a corset, and Ms. Venable doesn’t give the Greys anything to wear under our corsets because she says our comfort isn’t a priority. So it kinda digs into my-ow, fuck, my skin.”

Your cry of distress had come when Langdon’s hands had pressed hard into the red marks that marred your back from your corset. 

“It really has done a number on you,” He helped you unclasp the front of your corset and slip it off, before bringing his hands to your hips, “Get on all fours.” 

You did as he said, unsure of why exactly he was asking you to do so, but you understood a moment later when the wet warmth of his tongue began to stroke along your spine. He licked along each mark that had been left behind, leaving a trail of coolness to follow, and although it stung with each moment of contact, it left some relief as he went. You mewled at the feeling, back arching towards him, desperate for more. 

“Feel better?” He purred, now drawing his nose around your spine.

“Yes,” You sighed pleasantly, “Thank-fuck!”

Langdon had shifted his arms so that one ran under your stomach, holding you in place, and with the other he brought his palm down on your back with all his strength. 

Tears were starting to spill from your eyes, leaving a puddle on the floor as he struck you four more times in quick, painful succession. 

“Aw, does it hurt, pet?” He was cooing at you, voice light and mocking, “Look at you. You’ve made a mess on my floor. Clean that up for me, yes?” 

Unsure of what that meant, you tried to look back at him to ask, but Langdon wrapped his hand around your neck and forced your head to the floor, his entire body pressed against yours, “Clean it up.” 

Hesitantly, you reached your tongue out to the floor, scooping the salty moisture up carefully. The pressure on your throat lightened up so that you could breathe more easily, but he didn’t remove his hand, and you frantically licked the rest of your tears off of the floor. 

Letting you sit up, he smirked at your shy smile, examining the floor carefully before praising you, “Wonderful job, pet. But it appears that the mess on the floor isn’t your only one. You seem to have made quite a mess down here as well.”

With that his hand cupped your pussy over your panties, which had become thoroughly soaked through. He pulled them down slowly, a rumble rolling past his lips at the sound the fabric made as it tried to cling to your damp flesh. He gave a tug and ripped them off of your thighs, bringing the shredded remains up to his face to examine it closely. Staring into your eyes, he poked his tongue out of his mouth and brought it to the fabric, laving slowly over the wetness that coated it. You moaned loudly at the sight, squeezing your thighs together. 

When Langdon was satisfied that he had gotten every drop of your essence off of the scraps of your underwear he tossed them carelessly in the direction of his desk, and then his tongue was on you once again, this time drawing painfully slow stripes from your knee up your inner thigh, ending just at your hip bone. 

“Did you like watching me?” There was amusement in his voice, a kind of mirth that could almost be mistaken for warmth, as he licked closer and closer to where you wanted him most, never deigning to touch you there, “Did it make you even more wet for me? Do you want me to eat your pretty little pussy until you can’t walk? Want me to let you drench my face?” 

“Please, yes, please!” You keened towards him and Langdon clamped his hands onto your thighs to hold you in place, bringing his thumbs down to spread your pussy lips open. There was something so intimately dirty about it that you let out another long moan, his breath fanning hot air against your folds, “Langdon, please, I’ll do anything you ask.”

He scoffed, nuzzling his nose over your entrance, “You’d do anything I asked anyway. But I will say, you have just about the sweetest pussy I’ve ever seen. And you smell divine, pet.” 

Whimpering, you tried to rut up to his mouth, wanting so badly to feel him against you, “Please, sir, Langdon, please, what do I have to do for you to touch me?” 

At those words, Langdon moved away from you completely, now not even letting his fingers drift over your skin, “Was I not touching you before? You’re incredibly ungrateful for someone who I could kill with less than the blink of an eye.” 

“I’m sorry,” You scrabbled to your knees, legs shaking, “I’m sorry, Mr. Langdon, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I’m so grateful to you, I am, I’m sorry.” 

“As you should be,” He sneered, but the bulge in his pants looked even larger than it had before, and the corners of his lips twitched up, “You do look very good on your knees for me. I think this is the position you’re meant to be in, the reason you were put on this earth. Why else would you look so lovely like this, look like such a pretty little slut? Open your mouth for me, pet.” 

This is happening. This is actually happening.

Eagerly, you complied, wrenching your mouth as wide open as you could, desperate to please him. Langdon unzipped his dress pants, reaching into his boxers and stroking himself, letting out a deep and rumbly groan as he finally pulled himself out. 

His cock was... beautiful? You hadn’t expected to find it so beautiful. The few dicks you had seen you had mostly found odd, fine enough but not particularly nice to look at, but Langdon’s looked like it had been carved by Michelangelo himself. 

It was also huge, as thick as your wrist and at least as long as your forearm, the tip a throbbing angry crimson. It was veiny, and you would’ve expected that to be strange but it just made it even prettier, an extra long and thick vein running up the side that oddly made your mouth water. 

A fresh wave of desire pulsed through you, but that didn’t stop your worry as he approached you, speaking your anxiety out loud, “Is that... I mean, is that going to fit?” 

Chuckling, Langdon pushed himself into your mouth with no warning, holding the back of your head with one hand as he began an intense, bruising pace, “What’s the matter, little whore? Never been with someone this big?”

That’s one way to put it. 

He froze suddenly, buried down your throat, his pelvic bone pressed against your nose, and slowly he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, “Wait, you’re a virgin?”

You nodded slowly, and Langdon hissed at the movement, slowly pulling himself away from you, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You didn’t ask,” You shrugged, bringing a hand up to massage your jaw, “I didn’t think it would matter, I’m sorry. Does it change things?” 

Langdon gripped your hair, and he pulled you to your feet and into a bruising kiss all in one swift movement. Then his hands were all over you, stroking your skin fervently as he led you to his chair, sitting down and pulling you into his lap once more. The feeling of his dress pants against your bare skin was sinfully lovely, and you were suddenly aware of how exposed you were, when you could see almost nothing of him. 

After what felt like hours, he pulled away from you, his eyes dancing with something deeply dangerous, a brilliant smile on his face, “Of course it matters, pet I wouldn’t have even considered wasting any of my cum in your mouth if I knew your perfect cunt was untouched, waiting for me.” 

You let out a cry as he grabbed onto your hips tightly, beginning to draw you up and down over his length. His cock pressed into your folds, rubbing your clit, and every time he approached your entrance you gasped, “Holy, oh my, fuck, that feels good, Langdon I-”

“Michael,” He interrupted, moving you faster. 

“What?” You blinked up at him in confusion, and he felt his cock twitch at the sight.

“My name is Michael Langdon,” He pressed a kiss to your neck, beginning to suck a new line of hickeys, “You can call me Michael.” 

“Michael,” You sighed, clenching around nothing as a strange sensation started to boil in your stomach, something so pleasureful that you didn’t know what was happening, “Oh, fuck, Michael, you feel so good, please, can’t you just fuck me?” 

“Oh believe me, I’m going to,” His cock was twitching even more now, your name so perfect from his mouth, “But you have to be ready for it first. Come on, pet, come for me, just like this.” 

You mewled, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the boiling in your stomach became more, became overwhelming, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you let out a desperate shriek. 

“I didn’t, oh fuck, oh god, I didn’t know it would feel that good,” You panted, and Michael raised an eyebrow at you yet again as you buried your face in his shoulder. 

“Have you... have you never had an orgasm before?” 

You shook your head against him, letting out another gasp as one of his fingers started to toy around your entrance, “No, I haven’t. I mean, I thought I might have once, but it was nothing like that.”

“Have you ever had any fingers inside you?” He asked, even as he was already easing a finger into you, giving your walls a single stroke before he pushed two more in. 

“No!” You shrieked, the foreign sensation making you buck your hips wildly, “I, I mean, no, I haven’t.” 

Cock throbbing harder than ever before, Michael began to scissor his fingers around, stretching you out, “Fascinating. My little whore is so inexperienced.”

Moaning at his words, you lurched when his middle finger hit a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, “M-m-Michael, please!”

“M-m-Michael! M-m-Michael!” He mocked you, scooping the hand that wasn’t busy working you open under your ass, shifting out of the seat and lowering you to the ground, his mouth finding its way to your tits, “Wait, pet. Be a patient slut for me and you’ll be rewarded.” 

You nodded as he bit your nipple, toying with it roughly before kissing over to the other side, “Sorry, sorry, oh holy fuck that feels good.” 

Another orgasm was forming deep within you, more mewls leaving your throat as you desperately started to claw at his back, “Michael, fuck, Michael, I’m going to-”

“Good girl,” He purred, pulling his fingers out of you just as you started to cum, and then he slammed his cock into you with no warning, delighting in the bloodcurdling scream that you let out, letting out a guttural moan, “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Desperate little slut, you were so ready for me to stretch you out, huh?”

“Wait, Michael,” You let out a sob, your cunt pulsing with overstimulation, “Michael, it’s too much, it hurts, please.” 

He was completely bottomed out in you, not moving yet, but he brought both hands up to wrap around your throat, cutting off all of your air, “Now now, pet, that’s no way to thank me for being so kind to you. You’ve cum twice now, haven’t you? And have I gotten to cum even once? No. Now, are you going to be good for me?” 

You nodded fervently, and he released you, leaving you gasping, “Sorry, sorry, Michael. I’m sorry.” 

“Good,” Michael started to pull out of you ever so slowly, moving at a glacial pace until just his tip was inside of you before thrusting in again, filling you up once more, “Oh, you feel good. Your pussy is fluttering all around me. But I should tell you, Y/N, I lied to you.” 

You let out another shaky sob as he hooked his hands under your knees and stretched your legs up, throwing them over his shoulders, continuing his pace of slow drags out followed by impossibly fast thrusts in, your hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth silk that covered his back, “Wh-what? What do you mean?” 

“I told you I wasn’t going to take you to the Sanctuary,” He grunted, his pace getting somehow even slower, in and out both, your slapping skin making loud, lewd noises, “I lied. I am. I’m going to pump you full of my cum, pet, until you’re overflowing with me. I’m going to breed you like the whore you are, and then we’re going to rule over the new world, together.” 

“I don’t understand,” Shrieking again, a whine bubbling out of your throat, you gasped as his hands moved to your tits once more, “Please, Michael, please can you go faster?”

It still hurt, but it was getting better, the pain being overrun with the pleasure. 

Michael complied, slamming into you, setting such a brutal, bruising pace that you were sure you could feel him all the way up in your stomach, “That’s my good little pet. Look at this, your pussy is devouring me. I’m going to wreck you, gonna mold your pussy around my dick so that you know that no one else will ever be able to make you feel good. Your perfect little pussy was made for me, and me alone. You were made for me. Your pussy, your ass, your mouth, these perfect tits,” He gave your breasts a harsh squeeze, running his thumbs over your nipples as you let out another scream, “They’re gonna be full of milk before you know it, filled up for our baby. Do you want to have my baby, pet? Do you want me to breed you? Fill you up? Ruin you for anyone else with my cock?” 

“Yes!” You sobbed, although you were barely conscious of what you were saying, barely even conscious of what he was saying, another orgasm fast approaching, “Michael, please! Fill me up! I need you!”

“Then cum for me,” Growling, he brought his nose down to touch yours, “Squeeze my cock with that tight pussy of yours, finish for me, and accept my seed knowing that you belong to me now, understood?” 

“Yes, yes, yes! Michael, I’m yours, I belong to you, yes!” Your screams were echoing around the room now, but you couldn’t hold back, not when he felt so good, and this time rather than a boiling in your stomach your orgasm felt like an awakening, like you were being reborn. 

You came harder than you knew was possible and Michael quickly followed suit, pumping you full of his thick, hot ropes of cum, more than he had ever cum before, filling you all the way up. 

Whimpering, you sat up, and rather than letting you move away Michael pulled you to his lap and dragged himself to the wall to lean against once again, hushing your mewls with a kiss, “Good girl. That’s my good little pet. I’m gonna stay inside you, okay? Gotta make sure you don’t lose a single drop.”

Nodding, you felt your eyelids start to flutter, your head dropping to his chest, “Yes, Michael. I’m...I’m so tired.”

“I know you are, little one, I know you are. Get some rest now. No one will interrupt us. Rest, my sweet, and have dreams of the future we will build together,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest, and letting out a happy hum as he felt you already drifting off, and before he did the same he whispered in your ear, “I’m proud of you.”

[kittehkwrites]

Self-care day

Warnings: fluff

Having a selfcare day was a necessity

It was the time in which you took for yourself to destress. You were able to just laze around, mostly carrying out your washday routine, and then eat whatever whilst watching movies or listening music.

Just a day full of You.

A few days ago, however, your friend, Yahya, had messaged you to let you know he was going to be in town for the weekend and wanted to spend some time with you since you both were on busy schedules.

You had told him to come over and have a self care day and take some of the pressure off of himself to indulge in himself.

you told him to come over once you had finished your detangling (this would be after having washed, conditioned, and treating, your hair.)

When he arrived, you had just finished sectioning and plaiting your hair to keep it from knotting overnight and layed out the snacks in the living room. 

You were getting ready to get the necessities for the face masks you wanted to review when you heard the knocking at your front door and then receiving a notification from Yahya that he was outside and needed to use the bathroom.

“Aye! I know you know its me!” He’d yell out through the barrier of the door and your house.

You’d quickly open the door, in hopes you’d reach in time so he wouldn’t pee on himself.

You’d fling open the door and before you can get out a hello, he'd be running in, shouting out ‘gotta go gotta go gotta go’ down the hallway leading to the guest room. You couldn't do much but laugh at the way he was acting.

You just closed the door, thankful your next door neighbours were out of town or else you'd be hearing a lot about your friends antics the following day.

Once he had finished in the bathroom (obviously making sure his hands were clean and he didn’t leave the seat up or forget to flush) he’d make his way back out to the front of the house and see you sat on the couch with a face mask on, eating a bowl of mixed berries and watching Futurama on your wide screen tv.

“Hello to you too sir” You’d say smartly, he would just turn and respond with a ‘Hi’ and say thanks for getting the door quick.

“No problem.”You would bite into a juicy strawberry and chew on it for a bit as you were so absorbed in the tv until he snapped his fingers in front of you to break you out of your trance. “We wouldn’t want you to walk around like that in these peoples neighbourhood” You ate another berry before placing the bowl down and asking if he wanted anything, pointing to the variety of junk and healthy food you had placed out on the coffee table centred in the living room.

He would take some of your berries, popping them into his mouth and laughing at the annoyed look you have at him refusing to use the extra bowl you had out incase he wanted some.

He knew it would annoy you and you knew he did it on purpose so you just shook your head and proceeded to pick up your bottle of water and drink some of its contents. 

---

“So what’s on your face?” He’d motion to the mask you had painted on yourself.

“This, my barbaric friend, is a face mask.” You’d get up to stretch before picking up the diy mixture you wanted to try out and pushed it towards your friend who was no stranger and had gotten up to change into his extra shorts and old hoodie he left behind.

“I know you no-” you’d cut him off before he could finish asking the rhetorical “anyways this mask is supposed to help open your pores and detox your skin.” You’d continue to speak while reaching for the clean brush that you’d use as an applicator for your friends face.

He’d look down questionably at the mix before looking back up at you, who was now standing in front of him and smiling, waiting for him to give in so you could apply the mask to his face.

He’d sigh before handing over the product.

You’d do a little happy dance at the fact he didn’t put up much of fight, but you chalked it out to be due to the fact that it was a self care day and he wasn’t meant to be worried about anything other than taking care of himself.

He’d sit up straight and come closer to the edge of the couch to allow you to place the mask on his face and to be safe in case the mixture fell onto the couch before it reached his face. He noticed the towel you had placed over the space between the central carpet and the couch (even though there was a gap where you could see the floor under the massive rug, he knew you were just being extra cautious to reduce clean up)

As he sat and let you apply the mask, he did start to relax and not long after you were finished and he could lay back in the couch, finally being able to spread himself out again to get comfortable for the remainder of the day with his close friend.

The two of you sat and watched a few more episodes before going to wash off the face masks.

As you were patting off your face, you caught Yahya staring at himself in the bathroom mirror and couldn’t help but ask “what did you think?”

He looked at his skin a little more.

“Yay or nay, Yahya?” He still didn’t say a thing to you. “You actors and wanting to create suspense” you’d let out as you rolled your eyes at his dramatic pausing and serious face he had put on.

Once you had finished drying your face, you were met with your friends kind smile and a “I like it.”

You wanted to slap him for the theatrics.

Had you thinking he wasn’t feeling it.

“Well mr. Emmy-Award winner” you start off as you both made your way out of the bathroom, disposing of the face towels you had placed out for you both into the clothes basket, “glad you liked it. That means you can buy me some masks when you travel to places like South Korea or Singapore.”

Yahya would let out a little chuckle.

He knew there was something up with you wanting to share your skin care and he now got his answer.

“Oh! So that’s why you wanted me to come over? To try on some face mask so you could persuade me to buy more when I’m away to bring for your bougie behind?” You could hear the teasing in his tone but continued to play along.

“I mean...” you’d turn around and shrug your shoulders to the man walking behind you before you both got situated on the couch again.

He’d look over, amused at your behaviour before chuckling and nodding his head.

“But nah.” You’d let out after a brief stare off which was caused by your straight face to his accusations. “I genuinely wanted us to hang out” you’d say as you picked up a bag of dried mango.

“I mean how many times do we get to see eachother or happen to be in the same city at the same time for longer than 4 days?” You’d say as you opened up the pack, in which he helped himself to a good sized palm of its contents.

“You right” 

“I know. Now stop eating my snacks when there’s enough for the both us”

You both would turn from watching the tv to talking about random topics or anything going on in your lives that the other missed and it felt like you guys hadn’t been separated for so long.

You guys shared some laughs, got up to make some food before going back to the couch to be lazy.

You’d turned off the animated shows and switched to playing music once you both cracked open a bottle of wine to compliment the food you'd made.

Both buzzed and full, you guys cleaned up any mess made and just let the calm energy in the room take over. You both caught the itis and didn’t try to fit it.

---

By time you had woken up, your head was on yahya’s shoulder and he was sitting comfortable with the tv on low and munching on some gummies.

He’d ask how you slept and you'd say great and he’d say the same before you guys continued watching whatever he had put on while you were still sleeping.

It wouldn’t be until the late hours of the night that he’d decide to head back to his hotel room.

You’d try to get him to spend the night but he said he wasn’t going to be able to leave if he didn’t leave now.

You stopped fighting him and walked him to the door, sending him off with a couple more of the candy packets amongst other junk food (which he technically stole but you weren’t about to start anything with this man when you were still feeling tired.)

As he got to the front door, youd both hug and you’d watch him get into his rental before closing and locking it. You'd clean everything up, packing away any unopened food items, folding any blankets, fixing the couch pillows etc. before heading up to your bedroom where you would get ready to get under your comforter for another deep sleep.

before you could sink into the dreamstate, you got a text notification  (you normally had your phone on dnd once you got in bed but this time you forgot) and saw it was from no one but your friend Yahya

“We gotta do another one of these again girl. These chill days aren’t common anymore” You’d laugh at the message as you imagined him saying it in front of you and hearing it in his voice.

“I agree” You’d respond and he’d send you a couple memes to show his excitement at the future of this possibly becoming a ritual between you both whenever you saw each other.

“Goodnight Yahya.” You’d send after snickering at some of the images he sent you.

“Night beautiful.” 

You’d feel the butterflies flutter and try to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

You may or may not have had crush on the man for God knows how long, but that was neither here nor there and you were gonna punch those thoughts and feelings to the back of your head because sleep was more important right now.

As you thought about other things, you hadn’t realised you fell asleep after blinking a couple of times.

It was lights out for you.

---

on the other side of town, yahya was waiting to get a response from you and after a good couple of minutes he figured you’d gone to sleep and decided to follow the lead as he thought about the day you both spent together.

One day, he’d think as he was getting comfortable in the bed before placing his phone on charge.

As he was about to fall asleep, his mind ran across the topic of discussion earlier and said to himself that since he was flying out of the country in a few days, he’d bring you back a couple of things for your future self care days.

He went to sleep with a smile on his face as he thought of the look of pure joy when given the products. Just thinking of your happiness brought him happiness and helped him fall into a deep sleep with thoughts of you running on his mind and the future of self care days between you two possibly being something he’d try to upkeep for as long as he could.

Hey loves!

Hope you guys liked this one.

Thanks to the anon who sent it in (sorry it took so long to get out of the drafts) 

Hope you guys are taking time out for yourself and keeping safe.

Remember to like, comment and/or reblog and thanks for the continuous support.

I appreciate you guys so much.

Stay safe,

-K💜

[doodleimprovement]

CSAU :: Moonie Jericho and the Mysterious Case of the Moon-Jumper Mask

At long last, It is finished! Happy Halloween! 

Below the line is a lighthearted fic taking place in the “Coffee Shop” AU (( @doodledrawsthings​ ))with Magic! Family fun! Low stakes! And a gratuitous cameo by my OC because of course Nell is here 

Seriously though this fic is about as lighthearted as it gets. At the end of the fic are a few sketches I drew but didn’t end up coloring. 

((There’s going to be an alternate ending posted separately at a later date, but its not relevant to the fic)) 

Enjoy! 

--

Fall in Subcon Forest came in gently as always, and by the time Halloween rolled around, everyone was firmly in their sweaters and beanies and thick leggings and hiking boots that were only occasionally used for hiking. The leaves of the trees and the shining sun framed the town in such lovely muted colors that it looked like a picture right out of a magazine.

Not that anyone in the Horizon was looking out the window to see it - the curtains were closed in an attempt to not blind the employees and clientele.

It was that time between the end of school but before trick or treating, which meant that all of the teachers and parents were coming into the Horizon with their kids to get the new specialty drinks - well decorated and tasty, and more importantly, not hilariously overpriced. The kids in particular seemed to love the “Ghoulishly White Hot Chocolate”, and the teens flocked to the “Jack-O-Spices Frozen Pumpkin Latte”

Luka was almost certain that the pumpkin spice smell would burn itself so deep into his nose he’d never be able to un-smell it. A small price to pay for the rise in business, he supposed.

“Luka, Two Snatcher-ccinos!” Clover called from the cash register.

“I still hate that!” He responded with a light tone

“Too bad, make ‘em!” She teased back with a light laugh.

“Don’t get all testy, you two! We’re only open for another hour!” MJ called, grinning before turning back to the coffee machine, where they were effortlessly making yet another latte.

“Too long!” Clover argued, grabbing a muffin for a customer from the bakery display

“You’re telling me, and I still have to take Bow and Hattie trick or treating” Luka huffed, finishing up one of the “Snatcher-ccinos” and moving onto the next one.

“WE are!” MJ corrected. Luka just playfully rolled his eyes.

The conversation ended up dying rather quickly as the business went through its last rush, and, at long last, 4 o’clock came, and the store shut down. The three employees did a rather quickly clean up this night around - they were all eager to be anywhere but work that spooky night.

Once in the back of the store, Luka seemed to almost melt in relief, leaning further and further into the wall.

“Ugh, my limbs feel like Jelly” he commented as his voice gained its echo

“For all we know, they are,” Clover teased. “We’re meeting at MJs in an hour, right?” She stretched.

“Yeah.” Luka nodded “Have they already run off?”

“Yup. They’re excited” She chuckled “You gonna get home alright?”

“Yeah, thanks. See you later”

“Later!”

0o0o0o0o0

That stupid, cursed thing of a mask had not moved in weeks since he’d found it, and its stupid grin had started haunting the corner of his vision when ever he was in his studio.

It seems like it's decided that sitting on the desk in his art studio was its happy place. At least it was out of the way, and in a place he didn’t frequent often.

Though its eyes definitely still moved, which gave MJ hives like you would not believe. Why he kept it in his studio he wasn’t sure.

Tim had told him that the thing was mostly harmless, that it just seemed a bit… off, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Timmy even said that he got “good vibes” off of it, which was a strange phrase to use on something that felt at the very least mildly cursed.

Finishing with the caplet for his costume, gently clasping it, he looked in the mirror and gave himself a smile.

It was obscure, sure, but he’d put a lot of work into it! The legend of the “Lonely Man” was well known in these parts, maybe someone would get it. Someone had to.

Whether or not anyone got it, he was still happy with the tattered thing. That faux old age took forever to get right.

As he straightened out his clothes, his eyes caught the mask once more.

His hand picked it up off his desk, and his thumb rubbed on the odd surface. He couldn’t really tell what it was made of, but it was… oddly smooth, he thought. His brow furrowed as he looked at its eyes, a single pupil in its left eye, and a cascade of diamonds in the other. It was certainly an interesting and eye-catching design. He also liked the blue and reds, and that weirdly off-putting grin.

Such an odd thing.

He held it up with one hand over his face - not putting it on, but getting a look in the mirror at how it would look with the outfit.

He found it utterly bizarre that he could see clearly through the eyes despite what seemed like thick paint over it.

The mask itself wasn’t actually that scary when taken all at once. Oddly enough, it seemed to match with his outfit - at least, color wise. It didn’t even seem evil or anything. It seemed… kind.

That was an odd word to use. MJ tended to flip flop on how he feels about the damned thing

Before he could think any more about it, his doorbell rang, and the mask was left on his desk, forgotten the moment company arrived.

“Who is it?” He asked as he approached the door

“The Dread Pirate Roberts!” A little voice announced as the oak opened up.

To his absolute delight, Harriet was dressed indeed the Dread Pirate Roberts, missing nothing but the mask (The town doesn’t allow masks on minors, for some reason. A weird little policy). Next to her stood an excited Bow, grinning from ear to ear. He knew exactly who she was, but still asked-

“And who are you?”

“My name is Inigo Montoya” She said with all the faux-seriousness she could muster, holding up a foam sword “You killed my father, prepare to die!”

“Oh, goodness, the finest swordsperson in the world and The Dread Pirate Roberts have come to my home, I don’t stand a chance!” He moved out of his way as the kids ran into the apartment, and their father walked up behind him.

When his eyes went to Luka, he let out a snort. The man was dressed in a slightly silly looking prince outfit dyed almost completely purple, and his form was mostly purple as well - an energy-saving tactic if ever there was one.

“And you are?”

“He’s the ghost of prince Humperdink” Bow grinned. “This was the best costume we could find for it”

“I honestly think he shoulda died at the end of the movie so I'm cool with it.” Harriet commented as MJ moved to the side and let the group in “Is Clover here yet?”

“Not yet, I’m sure she’ll be here any minute and we can get right along with trick or treating!” MJ announced

“Yay!” the girls responded in unison, taking their place on MJs couch and turning on his old television for a brief moment of entertainment

Mj looked at Luka and grinned “Well, you’re lookin’ spooky, Luka”

“You kind of do too… what do you look like?”

MJ snorted “I’m the ‘Lonely Man of Subcon forest’. Heard of it?”

“Nope, don’t think I’ve been here long enough” Luka shrugged “Does look nice though. Very zombie-ish.”

The two chatted for a bit before there was another ring barely 10 minutes later.

“That must be Clo” MJ pushed himself off of the wall. “Can you get that? I want to grab my wallet so we can get the kids some ice cream before they go running around”

Luka nodded, giving him a grateful smile before turning to the door to greet the final member of the trio

MJ popped back into his studio, grabbing his wallet… and looking again at the mask.

He pocketed his wallet, and picked the mask up again. His thumbs rubbing against the strange texture of the mask’s sides.

He couldn’t help but admit that he was tempted.  Maybe, he could just see what it’d look like, just for a moment. Who knows? Maybe this has all been anxiety for nothing and the mask is just… weird.

He looked back into the mirror, and placed the mask on his face.

There was a moment where he stared amusedly at his reflection - it added a certain air to his outfit. Maybe wearing it out wouldn't be so b-

And then his body seized

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. He trembled and a pain started from his head and traveled down his spine. It was like the worst shiver from the cold he’d ever experienced. Like ice was pressed directly against his skin. It dispersed like a fog, freezing freezing, and, suddenly-

It stopped.

Panting heavily, MJ pulled themselves back up to a standing position - when had they bent over like that? - and lifted their head, making eye contact with themselves in the mirror.

“GAH?!”

They were - blue! And - and the mask was very much not a mask!!!

When they blinked, it blinked. When they moved, it moved. When they grimaced, the mouth moved along to create the expression. their eyes scanned over the crescent shape, past their neck and then landed on their-

“H-hands!” They stared - they were missing a finger and - had claws?? They clenched their fists in disbelief, eyes catching on a glinting just under their sleeve.

.. Where had the chains come from?

“MJ? MJ are you okay?”

Clover

“D-don’t come in, its fine!!” They panicked, “I’m uh, just, finishing up and stuff with my costume!”

“It looked finished to me” Luka commented “Did something rip?”

“Y-yes?? yes! Something totally ripped“

“They’re lying!” Hattie pointed out

“Sounds like their lying voice” Bow added.

Curse these adorable, smart little girls!

“I-I’m fine!” They yelled out “Totally fine, just fine”

“... MJ I’m opening the door, be decent”

“No, Clover, I - “

But the door opened anyway

And Clover - dressed up as “Generic princess” - looked in, and … stared.

“.... MJ?”

“.... H-hi, Clover.”

“Clover, what are-” Luka cut himself off “Uh….”

“It’s me! Its MJ, I uh - “ They tried to come up with a succinct explanation for the situation, despite not having any real idea.

“The mask” Luka quickly concluded, recognizing the face after MJs unfortunately previous run-ins.

“I … yes” MJ’s shoulders slumped a bit.

“Hey, at least you still have feet” Luka commented, causing MJ to look down and see that he did in fact still have his shoes on. Thank heaven for small mercies.

“What happened, what is it?!” Harriet pushed her way through, her eyes wide as saucers once they landed on the recently transformed adult “... Whoa”

“I … I put on the mask. I was curious and - and it..” They looked back down at the pale, blue hands, nervously moving the fingers and claws. “I felt like I was freezing, my whole body and then…” They trailed off.

“Whoa..” Harriet approached him slowly “It's like, Majora’s Mask!”

Lukas put his hand on her shoulder to stop her from jumping - now really was not the time “... I suppose that's one way to describe it.” He gave a deliberate, thoughtful face towards his transformed friend.

Bow was very firmly behind the adults, staring rather intently and slightly bewildered. Sure, she had been getting used to Mr. Princeton as a parent but.. This was somehow very different.

“... We need to talk to Tim.” Clover concluded

“Tim’s out of town” Luka reminded the group with a grimace “He and Timmy had some kind of meeting thing with other magical people. We don’t…” Luka huffed, his hair fluffing up a bit “We don’t know anyone else whose adept at magic like they are”

Harriet furrowed her brow a bit, looking at the discomfort that MJ was experiencing, rubbing their hands together. Could they be stuck like that? She wanted to think that maybe this really was like the Zelda game, but who could tell? It's not like they knew anyone….

“Yes we do!” She snapped her fingers“I kinda hate that Mu was right, but there is a witch in town!”

“What?” Lukas’ brow furrowed “Who?”

0o0o0o0o0

Getting to the edge of town was… novel, to put it simply. The group was rather lucky that Luka was used to doing this sort of thing. And he was about 4 times larger than the group, so that helped in flying them around.

With the sun kissing the earth, red rays crawling into the darker sky, they didn’t have too much time, but followed Harriet and Bow as they got past the town center, and led them down to-

“Wait, why are we at Nell’s place?” Clover stared ahead at the Mint-green home, succulents hanging from pots and a radio sitting on the edge of the porch.

“Because Nurse Nell is a witch!” Harriet announced walking up the two steps of the porch.

“What- Harriet!” Luka startled.

“Its true!” Bow defended as Hattie knocked on the door.

“Kids, we’ve known Nell for a long time, she’s not-”

“She is!” Hattie argued “We saw it!”

“She made us promise to keep it a secret!” Bow added.

Said nurse opened the door as MJ tried to speak up

“I wasn’t expecting trick-or treaters,” She greeted before looking out the door, “But I do-” She paused as her eyes landed on the strange group at her front porch.

There was a rather awkward, extended silence as her eyes scanned MJ through her thick lenses with a gaze that conveyed a strange kind of surprise.

“.... Inside, now” She pulled the door open further, leaving no room for argument.

The adults shared a glance, but did as she said, entering her small living room. She greeted them with a nod as they entered, and shut the door behind them, motioning for MJ to approach her.

She didn’t say a word as they did so, and very slowly lifted her hands to their face, holding it steady as she scrutinized. “What happened? Less than 3 sentences” She half asked/half demanded. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it was serious.

“Uh, I put on a cursed mask and it uh… did this” They tried to sum up.

“Where did you get the mask?”

“I found it in the forest. I thought it was abandoned from the spirit festival”

“And why did you pick up an abandoned mask in the forest?”

They awkwardly didn’t respond. She sighed

“I get it, hun” She responded, resigned. “Stay still”

“I am”

“Stiller”

Clover and Luka watched her with some skepticism, seeing the woman take a deep breath, and as she exhaled, her hands suddenly glowed dimly, tapping at the side of MJs head.

“Hah! See! Told you!” Hattie pointed, jumping slightly

“Shhhhhhhh!” Bow shook her “She’s doin’ magic stuff!”

“Hm…” She masterfully ignored the yelling children “Well, good news is that the magic isn’t very strong, Just… aggressive.” Nell announced. “And it's not malevolent” She let go of their face.

“... I… How can you tell?” MJ asked, their own hand tapping their blue cheek.

“.. Let's say it's a feeling” She summed up. “You can sit down. I need to grab something from my library”

And she left the room

“.... I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nell that serious” Clover spoke out “Also the uh, glowing hands? Didn’t know she could do that”

“How did you not know she had magic?” Luka asked with a rather incredulous tone

“It never came up!” Clover retorted

“How did it never come up?”

“Its cool!” Harriet jumped into the conversation

“It think its cool too” Bow agreed “I always wondered how my paper cuts at school always healed so fast…”

MJ had sat themselves down, hand staying on their head, feeling the strange curve of their forehead with a certain fascination. Nell’s words - said with so much affirmation- did make them feel better about the situation.

The nurse returned, her expression still relatively serious, but calmer as she carried an old, thick book with a rather overly ornate cover in a faded blue.

“You’re lucky I collect these old things” She commented for a moment, sitting down next to MJ. She flipped through the pages, finding a two-page spread with a plain mask listed on it, and text printed so small that MJ just could not read it. “Here we are.”

Harriet climbed up next to her “What's it say? That’s a lot of words!”

Nell chuckled a bit at her eagerness “It is, but... “ she hand rested on the book for a moment, and then she lifted it, and the text glowed, lifting and circling around her hand like a ring.

“Whoa…. It's like the unknown from the Pokémon movie!” Bow jumped, causing Nell to laugh more.

“A little, I suppose” Nell responded, and she looked over at the other two adults, mostly at Clover, whose bewildered stare caused her to laugh again “You okay there?”

“... How did I not know this about you?”

“Never came up, dear. Don’t think too hard about it. You too, “Snatcher”” The woman gave a smirk. Luka cleared his throat. “Now…”

A simple flick of her hand, and the letters were floating around MJ’s head, and some of them glowed just a little bit brighter “Hm….. Alrightie, that's a good sign” She snapped, and the letters, very suddenly disappeared as if popping a bubble. “Well, Give until dawn, and then you should be able to take off the mask. If you can’t, come to me. I don’t work tomorrow”

“Oh… Well, that uh, wasn’t so bad. I’ll be okay?”

“Of course” Nell nodded, shutting the book “I’d’ve called the Kagai’s the moment I let go of your face if I thought otherwise”

“The who?” Hat questioned.

“Another time, Hattie, another time” Nell placated. “Now….” she exhaled, putting the book on her coffee table and clasping her hands together “I just realized I haven’t even said hello to any of you”

Something about that sentence finally broke the tension, getting a laugh out of Clover and Luka, and a snicker out of MJ.

The next ten minutes consisted of Nell reassuring the group that MJ would be fine, and reiterating that they needed to come to her if the mask did not come off by sunrise.

“There’s a lot of magic in this that I can sense. So uh, just be careful.” She warned. “I don’t know a lot about that, so you’ll have to ask Tim”

MJ nodded “Uh, thank you, Nell”

She gave them a kind smile “Don’t mention it. Next time you need me though, have Clover send me a message or just call me, alright?” She looked passed them to Harriet, who gave her a sheepish smile.

“Got it” The transformed barista nodded.

“Oh and, don’t be too worried about people seeing you. Just say it's a costume” She recommended as they walked out with their family waiting just beyond the porch. “Happy Halloween!” She called before abruptly shutting the door

“So……” Bow started

“Can we go trick or treating now??” Hattie finished.

Luka looked up to MJ, who seemed much calmer than before, despite continuing to lift their hand to their weirdly shaped head.

“.. Yeah, yeah i think we can” they gave Luka a grin “And thanks for getting us the help, Hattie” MJ reached down and picked her up “Who knew the Dread Pirate Roberts could be such a help!”

The girl giggled before being put back down “Then let’s go!!”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

MJ was initially a bit tittered when they entered the town, but the moment anyone noticed them, the compliments rolled in.

“Wow! You look like a spooky zombie!”

“What game is that cosplay from?”

“How did you get the prosthetic to look like that, damn!”

“Wow, that is a really cool idea for the Lonely Man!”

MJ was beaming at the semi-undeserved praised as they took the kids from neighborhood to neighborhood, filling their pillow cases close to brimming with so much candy that Luka kept making a face and seemed to be mentally preparing to hide all of it, whispering to Clover and MJ about taking some of the candy so that it wasn’t all in his apartment.

“Seriously, all that candy?? They’re going to get cavities and I cannot pay for dental work like that.” The father aggressed. MJ just laughed a bit, looking ahead at the two girls who were trying to run ahead to the next house.

And then Bow’s foot caught a crack.

“Ah, Bow!” MJ startled, hand reaching out - but there was no way they’d reach her before she fell-

And then, she just stopped falling, stuck in midair as if floating.. But she wasn’t.

Upon closer examination, she was held up by a variety of red strings, connected to MJ’s clawed fingers

“... Uh”

“Whoaaaa” Hattie gaped “Magic! Cool!”

Bow pulled himself up to a standing position, and MJ put their hand down, the strings disappeared

“.. Thanks” Bow cleared her throat “That was really cool”

“It kind of was... “ They commented, looking down at their hands “I’m gonna be having a heck of a long talk with Tim when he gets back from wherever he is”

“Yeah, definitely” Luka nodded in agreement.

Lucky for the group the rest of the night went without incident, with MJ joining Luka at home and the two of them staying up until the sun started showing through the windows.

“Ready?” Luka asked him, the being no longer human shaped, as he’d finally reached his limit

“Yeah.. I think so” MJ took in a breath “She said it can just… come off like how I put it on…���

“Alright….” Luka’s voice trailed off as MJ reached their hands up to their face, thumbs by their cheeks, but then - wait! The edge, the mask! They felt it.

Barely bothering to breath, they mentally counted… 1… 2… 3!

they pulled it off and gasped as that icy feeling went through them even faster than last time, trembling and nearly falling over as Luka kept them up with their tail.

“Hey, hey! You okay MJ?”

MJ looked up, nodding “Yeah, uh, how do I..?”

“You’re back to a nerd, if that's what you’re asking” Luka lightly teased

Their hands went back up to their face, and gasped when they felt their regular skin, and their glasses (Where had they gone? Didn’t matter)

“Oh, thank god” The tired barista flopped onto their partner, “That was exhausting. Thank goodness the Horizon is closed today…”

“Hah, ready to sleep?”

“Oh, definitely” MJ commented, looking down at the mask still in their hand, its smile seeming not nearly as spooky than before.. “Hm..”

“What?”

“.. Why’d it choose me, I wonder” They muttered, sitting up and placing the mask by the window sill “But… we’ll see about finding out more, hm?”

“.. Yeah, we will” Luka confirmed.

MJ gave him a smile, hugging his partner with a slight nuzzle “Come on, we need to sleep. Hattie and Bow-”

“Oh, don’t remind me. We’re in for a hell of an afternoon” Luka groaned, but he was still smiling.

Saying that things were “back to normal” was never correct with this group, but things were still pretty okay. Maybe better, even.

Moonie figured they’d just have to wait and see.

--

BONUS:: 

Costumes! I wasn’t able to finish these in time, but I hope they suffice! 

[goodlucktai]

when the bones are good

@natsumeweek 2021 day 4; sweet/sour

read on ao3

(previous part)

x

Yousuke Takuma looks like he regrets inviting the Natori brothers into his house. They tend to have that effect on people.

“I shouldn’t be reading these,” he says in a very calm tone. “These are the sacred property of your clan. They shouldn’t even have left your property.”

“It’s not like anyone is going to miss them,” Shuuichi replies plainly. “My grandfather still thinks I can’t get past the locks on the storehouse door. Even Takashi can get past those, and he’s eight.”

“Sometimes I just ask Urihime to get me the keys,” Takashi admits. “She doesn’t get along with grandfather so she likes having an excuse to take stuff from him.”

It’s a nice way of saying ‘she fucking hates him’ but Takashi is a nice person. 

The kid is chronically honest. Always has been. He’ll strive to frame it kindly, but the truth is all you’re getting from him. It can be annoying, but mostly it’s pretty funny, and at the end of the day Shuuichi is glad that Takashi doesn’t feel the need to lie or make up stories. Even about the really unbelievable things. He just says what he’s thinking, because he knows it’s the truth, and his big brother will back him up if anyone gives him any trouble.

Shuuichi doesn’t have a lot in his life to be proud of, but he’s proud of that. 

The right people don’t care if a little kid tells ghost stories, anyway. Hinata thinks they’re great. She keeps threatening to write them all down and adapt them into her first screenplay.

Takuma puts his face in his hands. Across the room, Tsukiko giggles, clearly not as focused on her homework as she would like for the rest of them to believe she is. Ginro sets a tray of tea down on the table and gives Shuuichi a stern look for having the audacity to stress her master out so soon after his injury. Chastened, Shuuichi lifts his hands in apology. 

“If you really don’t want to look at them, I’ll put them away,” he says. “But I trust you not to—run off with them and patent them under your name, or whatever it is you think I should think you’re going to do.”

That works a huff of wry laughter out of the man, and he looks up at Shuuichi with a warm expression. It’s the way Shuuichi thinks his dad might have looked at him if he’d been born a proper son.

“Lunch first,” Takuma says, “then we’ll take a look at this paper magic of yours. Though if a couple of little geniuses like yourselves can’t figure it out, I don’t know what you think this old man will be able to do.” 

He adds the last bit with a smile for Takashi, who beams up at him from where he’s been not-so-subtly sneaking Jinbe rice crackers. Jinbe is the most unsettling of Takuma’s three familiars, but he’s also—to Shuuichi’s resignation—Takashi’s complete favorite. It appears to be mutual.

“You’ve kept your promise, haven’t you?” Takuma asks after a moment. “About staying away from those meetings?” 

Shuuichi sighs performatively. “Of course I have. It’s not like I could bring my brother with me, and he’d hardly just stay home. He’s very disobedient.”

Takashi scoffs. “Hinata-neesan says I’m your most redeeming quality.”

“Nowhere in there does she mention ‘obedient,’” Shuuichi replies without missing a beat, and grins when Takashi makes a face at him. 

“Alright, alright,” Takuma says, laughing properly now. “As long as you’re keeping your word, I don’t care about why.” He pushes himself up to his feet, moving a little stiffly, and smiles at his daughter when Tsukiko hurries over to take his arm. “There should be some margherita pizzas in the chest freezer. I bought them on a whim the last time I was at the supermarket. Should we try them?”

Of course they should. Takashi scoops the last of the cookies off the table and piles them neatly in Jinbe’s greedy hands, even though Takuma sighs and makes noises about spoiled shiki. Tsukiko gives the disappearing treats a bit of an odd look, but she seems more fascinated to be in the company of spirits than unnerved.

Shuuichi is beginning to think that his relatives are just bad people. 

“By the way, have you made any progress on,” Takuma starts, and finishes with a nod towards Shuuichi’s arm. 

The lizard is scurrying around in busy little circles, as if it’s feeling restless. Shuuichi covers it with his hand, something that sometimes works in calming it down, like putting a blanket over a bird cage. In this case, it crawls onto his hand instead and resumes scurrying there. Weird little thing.

“I still have no idea what it is,” Shuuichi says ruefully, “but Takashi is trying to teach it tricks.”

Takuma stares at him, and then at his brother. Takashi offers, “It knows ‘roll over’!”

“Go,” Shuuichi’s mentor says firmly, pointing them down the hall. “Kitchen. Lunch. We’ll discuss this later.”

A knock on the door interrupts their noisy exodus, and Takuma frowns. Clearly, he isn’t expecting company. The amiable man’s posture tenses as he gestures for Tsukiko, Shuuichi and Takashi to stay put. Ginro and Benihimo flank him on his way to the front door. 

Exorcists tend to be a paranoid bunch.

But with a dangerous ayakashi on the loose, Shuuichi thinks, with a prickle of unease all his own, maybe it’s better safe than sorry. 

“Urihime, go collect all our scrolls and put them in my bag,” Shuuichi says swiftly. “Sasago, stay right here.”

His shiki both nod, and Urihime disappears. 

Tsukiko is picking up on the atmosphere, even if her eyes aren’t the same as theirs. Even normal humans have a sixth-sense sense for certain things and it’s not to be taken lightly. She shifts nervously, and something in Shuuichi’s chest goes warm when he realizes she’s put her arm around Takashi’s shoulders protectively. 

“Seiji?” Takuma asks. His voice is raised in surprise, carrying from the genkan. “What on earth are you doing here?” 

Relief and dread fight each other in the pit of Shuuichi’s stomach. Dread wins. He’s only encountered Matoba Seiji twice, once at the summit he inadvertently followed Amasaki to, and then again in passing for a few minutes in the woods, but those brief meetings were enough. 

Even normal humans have a sixth-sense for certain things. Usually danger. 

“Tsukiko,” he says casually, “can you and Takashi go get lunch started?” 

To Tsukiko’s eternal credit, she doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Takashi, will you help me? Dad buys so much weird stuff when he goes shopping that it might be hard to find the pizzas.”

Takashi gives Shuuichi a look that says, very clearly, that he knows when he’s being fobbed off. Shuuichi ruffles his hair in a way that ruins the careful work Sumi-san (the only member of the Natori house staff who will still talk to either of them) put in that morning with half a dozen bobby pins. Now it flops into Takashi’s eyes and he makes an outraged sound, reaching up to shove Shuuichi’s hand away. 

“I’ll fill you in later,” Shuuichi says. “Promise.”

That’s enough for Takashi. Mollified, he trails after Tsukiko without argument, and with only one curious look over his shoulder. Jinbe drifts after them watchfully, and probably only partly in hopes of more snacks. Sasago remains at Shuuichi’s side, a stalwart presence that he’s come to depend on. 

It’s Shuuichi’s job to keep the monsters away. Whatever form they might take. 

Takuma looks irritated as he leads Seiji into the sitting room. With a nod of his head, he invites Shuuichi inside, too. The tea tray from before has vanished, a new one sitting in its stead, and Shuuichi notes with some inward amusement that Ginro didn’t lay out any snacks this time. 

“Well, what do you know,” Seiji says, as enigmatic as ever. “Shuuichi-san, I never would have expected to find you here.”

It’s impossible to tell what this guy is actually thinking. 

“Did you come by to check on Takuma-san, too?” Shuuichi asks. He has to work to keep his tone from biting, but he manages it.

“In a sense,” Seiji replies politely. “I was hoping to find out more about the ayakashi that attacked him. Going after it before it hurts anyone else is an exorcist’s job, don’t you think?” 

It’s bait, as clear and obvious as a cricket dangling from some fishing line. If he were still the bitter brat he used to be, maybe Shuuichi would have risen to it fiercely, like a tide, surging and crashing against Seiji’s unchanging stone facade. He would have said, ‘You don’t care about helping people. You called Takuma-san weak. You’re just looking for someone to use.’

Which is all perfectly true, and perfectly justifiable reasons to not want to drink tea with this guy and discuss the differences in their conventions, but it’s not like calling Seiji out would do any good. It probably wouldn’t even be satisfying. He would just gaze at Shuuichi with that stupid cat-that-caught-the-canary expression and make him feel like an idiot for existing.

He gets enough of that at home, thanks. 

“You’re right,” Shuuichi says mildly, with a smile of his own, “that is an exorcist’s job.”

Takuma eventually tells Seiji what he wants to know, clearly having given up on keeping the teenager away from exorcist summits and dangerous ayakashi, but he does afterword his information with warnings to be careful. 

Urihime sets Shuuichi’s bookbag beside him and he nods his thanks. Seiji clocks the two-second interaction with sharp eyes. 

“Look at that! You have a servant?” His eyes follow her when she moves to stand next to Sasago, next to both of Takuma’s shiki along the side of the room, and he whistles. “Two servants. Pretending to be an exorcist on the sly, are we, Shuuichi-san?”

More bait. Another cricket. Shuuichi sips from his teacup. “They belong to my family. I don’t know why they follow me around. They must be bored.”

All of which is true, technically. Takuma’s eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, but he doesn’t comment. Sasago turns her head very slowly, and her eyes, hidden beneath their blindfold, seem to bore into the side of his head. Urihime is less subtle and outright hisses at him. 

“Hmm, jury seems to be out on that,” Seiji says, and laughs. 

The sitting room door rattles open and Tsukiko peers through. Shuuichi’s fists clench in his lap, because sure enough, Takashi is right behind her, his brown eyes peeking curiously into the room. 

“Sorry, papa, but is your guest staying for lunch, too? Only, I don’t know how many pizzas to put in.”

“No, no, I couldn’t impose,” Seiji says. “I’ll get going and leave you guys to enjoy the rest of your afternoon. It looks as though you were having a pleasant time before I barged in.”

We were, Shuuichi thinks, but he keeps it to himself. He and Takuma stand up to see Seiji out. Seiji pauses when he spots Takashi behind Tsukiko, and his amicable expression takes on an edge that Shuuichi can’t define. He looks more engaged now than he did during the entire conversation with Takuma. 

“Hello again,” Seiji says in a pleasant tone. 

“Excuse me?” Shuuichi interjects loudly. “‘Again’?”

“Hi,” Takashi replies at length. His gaze is fixed on Seiji’s face as though there’s something interesting happening there. Jinbe drifts like a shark behind him, mask pointed towards Seiji suspiciously.

“As I thought, you have good eyes,” Seiji remarks, whatever that’s supposed to mean. He looks across the room at Urihime and Sasago, down at the bag by Shuuichi’s feet, at the lizard mark curled up on his arm, and then finally up at Shuuichi himself. Smiling widely, he adds, “I look forward to seeing what becomes of the Natori clan.”

Takuma escorts him out properly, and Tsukiko goes back to deal with the pizzas. Alone save for a scattering of trusted ayakashi, Shuuichi kneels and beckons his brother over. 

“C’mere, squirt.”

Takashi crosses the room to him. Standing in front of Shuuichi like this, they’re almost eye-to-eye. 

“Have you met that guy before?” Shuuichi asks. 

“Only once. It was when you had classroom duties and Hinata-neesan took me to the 7-Eleven to get chicken nuggets,” Takashi explains. “We met Matoba-san while we were walking. He said he was your friend.”

“I don’t have any friends.” 

Takashi nods very seriously.

“That’s what Hinata-neesan said. She took out her pepper spray and waved it at him. I think Matoba-san thought that was funny, but he said he didn’t mean to upset her, and he left. It was the right thing to do, probably, because he didn’t have any spirits with him, and Urihime was getting annoyed that he was talking to me.”

Shuuichi feels like he’s aged thirty years in the past three minutes. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough that there are spots in his vision when he looks up again. 

“Takashi, listen,” he says, “stay away from him. If he ever approaches you for any reason, tell me about it, okay? Promise?”

He holds out his pinky. Takashi rolls his eyes, much too grown up at eight years old for things like this, but he hooks his finger around Shuuichi’s gamely. 

“Whoever lies has to swallow a thousand needles,” they recite together, and then Shuuichi ruffles Takashi’s hair again just to make him squawk. 

“Sorry about that, boys,” Takuma says when he comes back. 

He pauses in the doorway and his bandaged face creases in a smile to see them rough-housing playfully, Takashi struggling to free himself from Shuuichi’s headlock, the tense atmosphere from before banished like an errant spirit.

“Bring those scrolls with you to the kitchen,” Takuma says warmly, “and I’ll help however I can.”

Seiji can think whatever he wants about Takuma, but the man is clever. By the time Shuuichi and Takashi are ready to leave, packed up with a leftover pizza and some cookies for the road, they’ve puzzled out the array that they were stuck on and Shuuichi managed to make a paperman fly. 

Takuma had looked over the notes he’d taken ruefully. He couldn’t help but absorb some of the practices for himself as he helped the boys study them, and clearly he felt guilty about that. Shuuichi leaned forward across the table and caught his eye. 

I trust you, he wanted to say. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. But there was absolutely no way Shuuichi could say something like that. Not out loud, with his mouth, where someone might hear him. 

“Clan trade or not, if you’re ever in danger and any of this paper magic could help you, I want you to use it,” he said instead. “No secret is worth keeping if it means you get hurt. Right, Takashi?” 

“Right,” Takashi piped up, his little voice clear and bright in that sunny kitchen. He was watching intently as his paperman wobbled precariously across the table, trying to carry a note to a delighted Tsukiko, and didn’t bother looking up even as he added, “It’s just paper, ojisan.”

“Yeah, ojisan,” Shuuichi teased laughingly. 

Takuma rolled his eyes, but gave in with a smile, as if he couldn’t help but be charmed by their noisy, obtrusive presence in his home. For a second, even though he was clearly the one who had gone out of his way to help them—wasting an entire day working with them on magic he didn’t fully approve of them studying in the first place, an entire day he should have spent recuperating—Takuma looked as though they were the ones who had done him a favor, just by being there. 

“What did Seiji mean when he said you had good eyes?” Shuuichi will remember to ask his brother a little later, when they’re walking home. 

“Oh, I guess because I noticed the weird mark on his face,” Takashi says. 

“Weird mark? What did it look like?”

Takashi hums thoughtfully, glancing around. He trots off the road a little bit to pick up a stick, then crouches in the dirt and starts drawing a strange, crooked symbol. Shuuichi leans over him to watch.

It’s not a symbol he’s ever seen before. Yokai writing, if he had to guess. 

“What does it mean?” he asks the shiki. 

Sasago drifts over and inspects the drawing, her face giving nothing away. 

“‘Something owed,’” she translates after a moment. “I think the closest human word would be ‘debt’.”

“Huh,” Shuuichi says. He offers Takashi a hand and hauls the kid back upright, frowning thoughtfully. “And you said it was on his face?” 

“Yup, above his right eye. Didn’t you see it?” A thread of anxiety works its way into Takashi’s voice that Shuuichi is quick to smother. 

“I didn’t have my glasses on,” he says smoothly, “so I must have missed it. You know your eyes are better than mine.”

Takashi grins up at him, appeased, and they spend the rest of the walk playing with bits of talisman paper. It’s habit by now to keep their pockets stuffed full of scraps. Shuuichi manages to make a couple of them fly, and Takashi claps his hands together in glee every time.

To anyone who might be watching, it probably looks like the wind is catching the scraps and lifting them out of their hands instead of the shaky first steps of magic it really is. There won’t be anything to question about the sight of two brothers, taking their time getting home to a place where no one is waiting for them, laughing and jumping as they try to catch those floating pieces of paper.