#you don't even know who 'Nine' is. but you have seen the person they are

[eorzeashan]

thinking again about Eight who falls in love with Nine from afar, but never once knows them up close.

[brattyspence]

virginia is for lovers | s.reid

summary: model!reader accidentally exposes their relationship through a soft launch instagram post

tags: model!reader x spencer, penelope included <3, smau

a/n: this is kinda short n pointless but i wanted a reason to write reader tweeting abt spencer and its been in my drafts for weeks so

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

Spencer had worked hard to keep you a secret. 

Not because he wasn’t thrilled to be in your life, because he really, really was. Historically, things had a tendency to go south as soon as word got out, especially when it came to his personal life. 

You had met in a bookstore. It was a short interaction; you were busy debating which translation of The Stranger was most appropriate to read. You must have been standing in the aisle of the bookstore a little too long, holding two copies side by side, when he had offered his two cents on the matter.

Typically, you weren’t one to entertain conversation in public. Nine times out of ten, you’d get one word in before the inevitable “Please can I take a picture? I love your blog so much!”, but this was different. You weren’t even sure he had even seen your face before he started talking to you. He wasn’t initially trying to hit on you, either. He was genuinely excited that someone was willing to listen to him ramble about the differences between the Ward and Guilbert translations, so when you responded in such a way that asked him to continue on, he was surprised. 

That day, you’d left the store with four more books than intended, and a single bookmark where he had written his phone number after you asked for it.  He had asked you for your name; a confirmation that he actually had no idea who you were. 

The rest was history. You saw him whenever possible, spent nights on the phone together, and flew across the country often just to see him. You loved having a relationship that didn’t need to be public, but you were also excited to share bits of it with the world.

It was late at night, and he was sitting at his desk in the bullpen, trying to finish the last of the paperwork he’d been assigned, when he heard commotion from Penelope’s office. He figured it was nothing new; probably just some news about the royal family or one of the real housewives again, but she’d thrown her door open in such a way that it garnered attention from everyone in the office.

“Spencer Reid,” She gripped her phone and rushed across the room with determination. “Do you have something you want to share with me?”

He looked up from his paperwork, furrowing his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you on my Instagram feed?” She placed her phone on his desk in front of him. 

“I’m not on instagram,” he replied. 

“Oh, but you are,” she said. “You are such a little liar. I can’t wait to tell Derek about this.”

She pushed his paperwork aside, plopping her phone down in front of him. It was a slideshow on instagram. A photo of the most recent bouquet he bought for you. A few from the museum you’d visited together, including several where his hands or shoes were visible, but nothing that really pointed to him. He could almost make the argument Penelope was mistaken, until the last photo, which included just enough of his apartment to confirm her questioning.

“You said you were seeing someone and I thought… someone from a chess tournament, or maybe… oh, I don't know. Literally anyone else? But you bagged a model?” 

“I-” he sighed. “How did you find her?”

“I didn’t find her, Spencer. I’ve followed her for years! I see her posts all the time. I can’t believe you.”

He scrolled down.

liked by @jjareau and others

@yourusername: virginia is for lovers :)                                              posted 12 hours ago

↪ @randomuser1: GIRL STOP TEASING WHO IS HE

↪ @randomuser3: i’ve been trying to figure it out since that tweet last month 😞

↪ @randomuser2: this is the sweetest soft launch i’ve ever seen <3

↪ 12k comments

He clicked onto your profile. 

@yourusername 

5.2M Followers

Followed by @jjareau, @emp.sergio and more

“You’ve got to see her Twitter, lover boy. She’s been gushing about you.”

“Oh, god,” he groans. So much for privacy. He lets her take the phone back, redirecting his attention to your Twitter page. She scrolls back to June before handing it over, letting him read in chronological order.

June 10

@yourusername: hot girl summer is officially over. just asked a man for HIS number.

June 25

@yourusername: is it offensive to men if you call them pretty? bc this man is rlly pretty 

@yourusername: update: apparently it is not :)

July 30:

@yourusername: good morning text + picture of a dog that he claims reminded him of me???? gonna ask for his hand in marriage

August 15

@yourusername: up til 2 bc hes explaining quantum mechanics to me 🧚🏻

@yourusername: embarrassed to say that form of dirty talk worked on me 

August 20

@yourusername: oh btw im a girlfriend now!

↪@yourfan1: look u long enough wtf girl

↪@yourusername: dw im locking him down 🫡

↪@yourfan2: thats OUR man now 💘

“Oh, wow.”

She takes the phone back. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Or me? Oh, this is great news. You’re bringing her to Rossi’s next, week, right?”

“I- Pen, I have no idea.” He laughs. He watches her type away on the device aggressively. “Are you texting everyone?”

“Yuh-huh. I need to call JJ, like… yesterday. And this isn't the end of this conversation!” She darted back into her office quickly, letting the door fall shut behind her.

He decided his remaining paperwork could wait. He packed his things up in a hurry, and decided to head out of the office, dialing your number on the way out. 

You picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey,” you started. “How was work? Are you heading out?”

“Yeah,” He started. He pushed through the glass doors of the office, staring towards the stairwell. “It was… busy. I just had a really interesting conversation with my coworker.”

“Mhm…” You had been lounging in your hotel room waiting for his call. “About..?”

“You, actually.” He replied. “She follows you on instagram. Apparently most of the office does. She showed me your post today.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Oh god, Spence. I’m sorry. I didn’t think… anyone would be able to tell who you were.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well… I work with some… characters. It’s totally fine, though.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, anxiously.

“Yeah. It was cute,” he replied, smiling to himself as he exited the building. “Tasteful.”

“That's what I wanted,” You reply.

“I thought Twitter was much more interesting, though.”

You froze, cringing. “Oh, god. Tell me you didn't read all of it.

He chuckles. “I skimmed it.”

You groan. 

[chimielie]

oh my god, they were roommates

part 2 to and they were roommates. no cws, just silliness.

you're not talking to tooru.

he's not sure how you manage it so effectively. you eat all your meals in your room while he's home, except for when you manage to sneak from there to the door while he's in the bathroom. his only clue that you've gone out is that you leave your bedroom door open when you do, really hammering home how empty his life suddenly is.

"even when we're in the same room," he sighs, resting his cheek on his fist. "it's like trying to grab a fish out of the water. i turn around or blink and poof! gone!"

"your sleeve is dipping into your drink," says his date. "and i really think you need to discuss this with your roommate. at home. alone."

tooru waves goodbye forlornly as they stand up and walks out of the restaurant, leaving behind a half-eaten ball of rice and a broken man.

"you are like a sad, sad," akaashi says, pausing to really linger on the word sad, "wet cat. please stop bringing your dates here to mope about—to them. you are forming bad associations between our business and your terrible romantic etiquette."

akaashi keiji is a mangaka now, or an editor for one, anyway; he works at onigiri miya (tokyo location) on the side because it's the only way he routinely leaves the house; tooru brings his dating drama here to brighten up what must surely be a terribly boring life.

"what would you do without me, akaashi-kun," tooru stretches his arms high with a languid sigh that makes akaashi worry that he has comprehended none of his words. "wouldn't you be so miserable if you didn't have me to bring romance and excitement to your life?"

"i have a boyfriend of several years," akaashi says, which is rude to remind tooru of while he's in such a vulnerable state. "i have plenty of excitement with him in my life."

"inconsiderate!" tooru snorts. "please break up with him to show me solidarity."

"i will not be doing that." akaashi picks up the nameless and now-vanished date's plate and takes a bite out of the leftover food.

"understandable," tooru nods, "that's very reasonable. i just don't know what to do, or how to fix it, or what i did wrong."

"you come in here every other night to whine about what you did wrong."

"do not."

"do too," akaashi sticks out his tongue at him. there's a grain of rice stuck to his lip. "you spent several months going out on dates trying to make your friend-turned roommate jealous—during which, I'll note, you basically exclusively talked about the person you were and continue to be obsessed with—then initiated... romantic physical contact, then ran away. because you have the attachment style of a stray cat."

"ah, akaashi-kun," tooru says. "are you saying i get around?"

"i am saying you are lurking outside the window and begging for attention and then biting the hand that feeds you when you get it.”

“oh.” tooru is quiet for a moment. “can i get the check?”

“it’s on the house if you’ll just go home and talk to your roommate and never come back here with another date.” akaashi says, finishing off the onigiri.

“deal.”

your room is empty, your bedroom door ajar when he comes home. mournfully, tooru sits on the bed, reminiscing over the hours he'd spent gossiping with you here.

he'll just wait for you to get back. when he used to take you dancing—with your other friends, but you'd wind your arms around his neck and he'd run light hands over your waist, your hips, and you would look at him like no one else even existed—you always wanted to leave before midnight. it's ten-forty-nine now, according to his watch, so he's sure you'll be back before long.

you get home at two-oh-four. you had never seen the point in staying out longer when going home and chatting over a bowl of cheesy noodles with tooru was so much more appealing—you didn't want to dance with anyone else anyway. now, though, you don't want to be home, and you have something to prove. to who, you're not sure, but you find yourself staying out later and later.

even though you always return home alone. you'd thought about really upping the ante, about moving on as abruptly as possible, but you couldn't. it felt like going too far in this petty revenge game. after all, you still—

you stop short, dropping your shoes on the floor. the devil is in your bed, lying on his side, knees tucked to his chest to fit his absurdly long frame. his breaths are even and deep, his face peaceful.

"oh, tooru," you sigh, and climb over him to tuck yourself against his warm side.

you blink your eyes open slowly, sleep still gleaming in the corners of your vision. there's a weight on your hip and something that smells really, really good surrounding you, nearly lulling you back to sleep.

"oh, please don't," says a voice you haven't heard in days. "my arm's circulation has been completely cut off. i may never serve again."

you jolt away from the soft source of warmth, which you realize belatedly is oikawa's chest.

"what happened?" you say, swiping at your face with the back of your hand.

he looks frustratingly perfect as always, brown hair rumpled, eyes soft like you aren't in the biggest spat of your friendship.

"i was waiting for you," he admits, leaning on his side and casting his eyes down, his lashes shadowing his high cheekbones. "because i wanted to apologize, to be clear. i must have fallen asleep, and then i woke up, and it was like—"

"yes," you cough. "i see. um."

"i'm sorry," he says. "hey, look at me. i'm really sorry."

"for what, oikawa?" you laugh nervously.

"for being stupid," he rolls one shoulder in a shrugging motion. "for trying to make you jealous and instead just being, like, a complete fucking clown during all of it."

"make me jealous?" you say, blinking at him.

"please don't look at me like that," he says, scrubbing over his face with the hand that's not propping up his head. "it-you make me nervous."

"we've been friends for years," you say, still apparently lost. "how can i make you nervous?"

"you always will," he laughs, but it's strained. "look—i like you. probably more, but i'm trying not to scare you—any more than i already have, i mean. i'm not sorry for kissing you, is what i mean. i should just—i should probably go."

"wait," you say firmly before he can untangle himself from your sheets. putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing yourself up to meet his lips, which are soft and dry and parted slightly with surprise.

the kiss is warm and lingers, even after you pull away. tooru stares at you with dazed eyes that make you shy, dropping your own. his voice is quiet but hopeful, contrasting his words in tone when he speaks.

"what the fuck?"

[tossawary]

Thinking about missed opportunities in the "Star Wars" prequel trilogy again: it's weird with hindsight that Count Dooku doesn't appear in "The Phantom Menace".

Dooku was a Jedi, so it's perfectly reasonable for him to be at either the Jedi Temple or the Republic Senate when we visit Coruscant in TPM. It would have been easy to move a few things around and include him even as a member of the Jedi Council when initially constructing the films, if you were planning ahead when writing.

As Qui-Gon's former master, Dooku is in the perfect position to ask questions onscreen about Qui-Gon's conviction that he's found the Chosen One and Qui-Gon's decision to put Obi-Wan up for knighthood, both publicly with the Council and privately from a more personal standpoint. Dooku could be used as a tool of interrogation to better lay clear for the audience some of Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin's characters, their motivations and fears and their potential flaws. An intimate conversation with his master's master could definitely be used to give Obi-Wan some much-needed character focus and inferiority before his climatic fight with Darth Maul.

As the future leader of the Separatists, this is also the ideal point in time to have Dooku act as a voice of criticism, someone who laments both the greed of the Trade Federation and the inaction of the Republic. Dooku could have easily been the representative of the Jedi in the Senate, watching everything, offering grandfatherly sympathy to Padmé Amidala, remarking on the effectiveness of unrestrained power, perhaps even making a warning observation of the dangers of that as Palpatine becomes the new Chancellor. We don't have to see Palpatine and Dooku interact directly, the film could even suggest that Dooku finds this ambitious politician slightly distasteful, but it sets up an explanation for how these two might know each other.

And if we have reason to know and like Master Dooku, then it would actually hurt more when he becomes Count Dooku and betrays both the Jedi Order and the Republic. Even briefly, we could have seen him show frustrated affection and concern for Qui-Gon, give warm advice and praise to Obi-Wan, stand up firmly against the unfairness of the Jedi Council saying Anakin is too old at nine years old. We could have seen Dooku support Padmé in her struggles to make the corrupt Republic take action. We could have seen him as dignified and wise, perhaps one of the only members of the Jedi Council to immediately take the return of the Sith 100% seriously after Maul appears on Tatooine. We could have been made to feel like this experienced, slightly embittered, but righteous older man was the only one "speaking the truth" here.

It really wouldn't have taken all that much shuffling and reassignment plotwise to add him in as a supporting character.

We would feel intrigued at the beginning of "Attack of Clones" when we learn that Count Dooku has left the Jedi Order after Qui-Gon's death. We could see Anakin and Obi-Wan briefly exchange lines about how they miss Master Dooku as well as Qui-Gon (there is already an exchange in the films where they state they miss Qui-Gon), and how they haven't seen or heard from him in some time now. Anakin could suggest that Dooku is hunting down the Sith Master; Obi-Wan could counter with how Master Dooku has simply returned to his life on Serenno, which he couldn't have as a Jedi Master, which Anakin casually calls unfair and he suggests that Dooku can do far greater good as a powerful count (a parallel to Anakin's marriage to Padmé and own Fall). Dooku being established earlier in the trilogy would better highlight how he and Obi-Wan went completely separate directions after Qui-Gon's death.

And again, the reveal that Dooku has Fallen would hurt so much more, if we had actually seen him be affectionate and righteous and wise. If we had any point of comparison for how Dooku's embittered desire for peace and justice has been warped into the pursuit of control and tyranny. It would hurt to see that formerly good man sentence Padmé to death as "just politics, my dear".

"This will start a war!" Padmé tells the man who helped her help her people once.

"I know," Dooku replies, with ominous satisfaction.

It would hurt to see Obi-Wan beg Dooku to stop this (a prelude to him begging Anakin in the next movie: "Anakin, please, I cannot lose you too!"), only for Dooku to attack and nearly kill him when Obi-Wan refuses to join him. It would hurt to see this grandfatherly figure cut off Anakin's hand, someone he knew and was kind to as a child. Seeing where Dooku fell from would also make everything about his fight with Yoda hurt more as well. We wouldn't have seen Dooku's struggles directly, offscreen in the time skip between TPM and AOTC, but this Fall would help prepare us for witnessing Anakin's Fall onscreen in "Revenge of the Sith", illustrate for us how power and grief corrupts, how the desire to take complete control and "start over" corrupts.

And all of this would also make Dooku's death in ROTS hurt more: to see Anakin execute an unarmed, injured man who had once been kind to him, who had once had good intentions a long, long time ago. We could have even had Dooku perhaps try to warn Anakin about Sidious, as the fear cuts through him as he realizes Sidious has betrayed him, only for Anakin to kill Dooku out of anger (Dooku is responsible for so much death, Palpatine reminds Anakin) just before the ruined man can finish speaking. Dooku's former goodness underlines Anakin's arrogance in thinking that his own fate will be any different.

The novelizations of the prequel films and other extended universe materials build up an image of Dooku's life as a Jedi and his Fall for us. We can assume and imagine a lot. We can retroactively apply knowledge gleaned from "The Clone Wars" with Dooku as a major villain. But ultimately, Dooku as a more sympathetic and emotionally relevant character is just not in the films.

When "Attack of the Clones" reveals to us: "Oh, no! Dooku has betrayed the Jedi Order and the Republic!" I think that most of the audience is like: "Gonna be real with you, chief, I have no idea who that is."

He's only been mentioned before once maybe? In Palpatine's office? Master Mundi assures Palpatine that Dooku is a good man (or something like that), but we have seen no evidence of this ourselves. This line mostly just becomes really funny on a rewatch, rather than poignant, because the prequel films audience only ever gets to see Count Dooku as a Sith Lord and rather underdeveloped villain. We don't ever get to see him be a "good guy" first. We're told but not shown.

The audience has no solid reason to care that Dooku specifically has betrayed the Order, as opposed to any random Jedi, because we haven't seen him before at all, much less interacting with any of our protagonists or establishing himself as an opinionated player within the story. Which is a shame! Because he has strong opinions that stand in interesting ideological conflict with so many other characters, generating fun and dramatic exchanges! He has direct connections to and parallels with other characters! He's potentially a really useful storytelling tool within these films, and his character just doesn't get used to that full tragic potential.

In conclusion...? I wish I'd actually been sad when Dooku betrayed everyone and died at Anakin's hand, instead of mostly just confused and then vaguely pitying. I want to see some of the love between characters beforehand, so that it hurts more effectively when that love turns to hate.

[kafka-ish]

I want to be Art’s dealer when he needs an eighth after one of his games. I want him to get my number from Patrick because he’s new to this & doesn’t know anyone or anywhere else to get it. Hey, u got any weed? He texts him.

Not on me.

Shit.

I know I’ve been going crazy

Do u know anyone?

The next message is your number. No name. No address. Nothing. But Art’s desperate for a cool down that doesn’t include a tub of ice or a communal sauna. He’s going out on a limb here—hitting send as soon as Patrick relays the message. Nothing too suspicious. You’re at home when you receive a text from an unknown sender.

Maybe Art: Hey, Patrick gave me ur number. This is Art

Come by around 9

You tell him which dorm.

Maybe Art: Okay

He’s at your door at nine sharp, still in his tennis uniform. He’s sweaty from practice, nervously gripping his racket bag and wondering if he should knock or text. Obviously he’s never done this.

He knocks. Doesn’t expect to be met with a girl half his size on the other side. Maybe you’re just the dude’s girlfriend and you happen to be over and end up answering. And in that case he really shouldn’t be looking but he can’t help it. Your hair is wet like you just got done showering. Your shorts ride up, or maybe he’s just imagining things. But he’s not imagining your shirt that’s see-through and barely covers your abdomen. He introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Art.” Maybe that’ll clear up the confusion.

“Yeah you texted me earlier. Come on in.” You leave the door open. You also leave Art dumbfounded.

Art makes sure to shut the door behind him but he doesn’t sit down. Stands awkwardly by the entrance, wondering what he should do with his bag, thumbing the strap.

“So Patrick sent you, huh?” Your voice comes from the kitchen and Art nods even though you can’t see him. He realizes this and dumbly says yes. You look up from the counter, sandwich bag in hand, and you smile at Art who’s fiddling his thumbs by the doorway. “You can sit down. Make yourself at home.”

"Cool." He settles down on your couch, looking around the place, trying not to be obvious even though it is. You smile, wanting to relax him. That's what he's here for, isn't it? His tennis bag is at his feet and he rests his hands on his knees, trying to take up as little space as possible.

"I won't bite, you know," you say, sitting next to him. You place a scale on the coffee table next to a tray of weed that's already been ground. About an ounce, though Art's never seen that much weed at one time. The only time he smokes is with Patrick every once in a while.

"Yeah, I know. I just--"

"What? Is this your first time or something?"

"No! I--I mean. Buying yes." His cheeks are red.

"Okay well don't worry. It's real easy." Art nods. Believes this. "Well."

"Well what?"

"Now I know why Patrick sent you to me."

"Sometimes it's easy." You laugh. Like an inside joke you have but only with yourself. "Sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No it's fine." And Art gives you this look. Like it is fine. Keep going. Explain everything to me. He wants to know the basics, the hard stuff and everything in between. You just shake your head. Ask how much he needs. "How much do people usually get?"

"Depends on the person." You shrug.

"How much does Patrick get?"

"Like an ounce. Half if he's short on cash." Art raises his eyebrow, shocked he didn't know that about his friend.

"So I should get an ounce," Art says. More of a question than a statement. He's testing the waters. Putting himself out there.

"How much do you smoke?" You push back. You want him to be careful. You also can't risk putting a super hot new customer in danger.

"Honestly? Only with Patrick." He's bashful when he admits this. You probably think he's lame now and totally off your radar. You're never gonna let him step foot into this apartment let alone sell to him again.

"Yeah you don't need an ounce," you say smiling, thinking of how he came in all politely with his tennis racket just like a puppy, tail tucked nervously between its legs, not knowing if he should stand or sit, silently observing your things. He has a good head on his shoulder with a future ahead of him and here you are selling him weed. Who are you to take advantage of such a thing just because Patrick sent him?

"So what do I need?"

"Probably some melatonin and a really good massage. But I'll give you an eighth and pretend like this never happened." This is the first time you've felt bad about selling. You take a jar from a drawer. There's even more weed in it than on the table, but in clumps. Green wads with streaks of purple. You set each on the scale in individuals first before packaging his pile in the bag you grabbed from earlier. "Here."

"How much?"

"On me this time. Think of it as a sample. You got a grinder or you smoking with Patrick?" Art's at a loss for words. He wants to pay you. He has cash too. He'll take you out to dinner. Instead he just says

"No, I, uh. Don't."

"Want me to roll you a joint?"

But before he can say anything you already find yourself folding a zig-zag with the filter, scooping the weed you have out with your fake nail into the paper. Art watches your hands. An expert at work. He thinks how everyone has their own niche and this is yours, just like how he has the tennis court.

When you walk him out you tell him to be safe. You're still smiling. You've never been this happy to not get money. He's about to leave but says, "I can pay, you know. I want this to be an honest transaction and everything."

"Art, I'm a drug dealer."

"Yeah, well--"

"Bye, Artie."

[ghostlyferrettarot]

•Pick a Picture: 🗝 Why are others curious about you?🐈‍⬛

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) (Open)

🪷If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🪷

🪻Masterlist🪻

🌸Pile 1: Four of wands, Seven of Cups, The Chariot.

Hi pile 1! People are curious about your personal life and activities. In the eyes of others you are seen as someone who has it all, although it may not be the case. People wonder how you do it, how you go through life with such a confidance and ambition; i see that you are a hard working person, you have the eyes on the prize pile 1. You may have perfectionist tendencies and be hard on yourself. The others wonder about your goals and plans, you seem as someone who is a force to be reckon with, al least this is the vibe that others pick up from you. You may be intimidating but this is because you know who you are and you are not afraid to take up space. I pick up a lot of envy from others, so please trust you intuitions when it comes to people; a lot of nossy energy too so probably others want to know about your personal life as well, i pick up a family member who is always on your back trying to get infomation about your life, don't worry about it tho your guides are always you and say to trust your gut feelings first✨️

🌸Pile 2: The empress, the Ace of cups, Three of swords.

Hi pile 2! I see that you've been working on your femenine energy and it shows! People are curious about your energy and aura. There's something so enchanting about you, it's so natural in you and people wonder how you do it. You may be in a glow up journey and this is something that other's notice, you are glowing pile 2!

I see that some people want to imitate your energy, they may be envious of you. Others see you as someone really charismatic and easygoing, you may have people approaching you or growing closer to you really quickly, this may be confusing to you pile 2 but it's because they feel at peace by your energy. I see that some of you may be into esoteric stuff; people also wonder about this aspect of you, about how in touch you feel with yourself, nature and spirit in general. I also see fairys so maybe you work or they would like to work with you.

You have a really beautiful energy pile 2 and you are doing an amazing job!

🌸Pile 3: Queen of cups, Nine of wands, Three of pentacles.

Hi pile 3! I see that you may be someone who is very careful with the people they let in their life. Other's wonder about this, about you in general pile 3, they wonder how they can get to know you and be ypur friend. I am hearing "exclusive" so others probably see you as someone who has a leader type of energy, other's probably look up to you in some way. Maybe you carry a lot of responsabilities pile 3 but you make it seem easy, i just heard Le sserafim song "Easy" haha so that may be important or something that your guides want you to listen. Others see you as someone misterious but those who know your enegy are the privileged ones. I see that you may have a close circle of friends but they are loyal and are the ones that know the real you. Others probably wonder how to be a part of your life too, there's something about you that sparkles a lot of curiosity on others, sometimes this peopleay even project their insecurities in you but don't worry about it, it has nothing to do with you pile 3; you are divinely protected by your guides!

🌸Thank you for reading and tell me if it resonated🌸

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere Jock x F! Bookworm reader pt.3

A/N: This chapter is more of a domestic life chapter.

TW: Dubcon, somnophilia, taking reader's birth control mention

Wanna but me a coffee: ☕

"Hey, Y/N, now that we're married, why don't we consum-" Brad flirts, loosening his tie and undoing his pants.

"Consume some food, yes. What a wonderful idea," You say, sitting on the bed and turning on the TV.

"Ugghh! Why do you keep avoiding sex with me?!" Brad groans, sitting on the bed next to you.

"You know why, Brad," You reply, not paying attention to your husband.

Ever since Brad tricked you into saying yes to his proposal for marriage by fucking you while he proposed, you've held a grudge. You didn't mind marrying him, but what angered you is that's how you're going to remember your proposal. Not being proposed to at an important place, a fancy restaurant, or near the beach, but on Brad's cum and sweat-covered bed while he rails you from behind. There was also the matter of the missing birth control pills, which infuriated you because you needed them for your period cramps.

"Baby, if you're still mad about the proposal, I can redo it. I thought you'd think it was cute to get a proposal after sex," Brad replies, touching your arm. "If you're that mad, I got a honeymoon gift for you."

You turn to look at Brad and see a giant carrot plushie.

"A carrot?" You question, looking at the zipper.

"Unzip it," Brad squeals, making you worried.

You unzip the carrot, and a bunny comes from inside (this plushie is real and very cute: https://lavenderconstellation.store/products/reversible-carrot-strawberry-bunny-plushies?variant=41187145121849).

"Aww, I'm slightly less mad at you now," You coo, kissing Brad on the cheek. "Still not going to have sex with you, though."

Brad groans, and he face plants onto his pillow. The two of you go to sleep until you're woken up by a force plowing into your pussy.

"Mm, Brad, what are you doing?" You groan, trying to lift your head only for it to be pushed back onto the pillow.

"Stay down, I'm almost-ah-finished," Brad groans, slamming his cock into you again.

You would've laid still and let him finish inside you, but a spark of rebellion rises in your chest. You raise your butt and start throwing your ass back onto Brad. He realizes what you're doing and slaps your ass hard.

"Keep fucking with me like that, and we'll never leave this room," Brad growls, making you blush. "Or maybe you'd like that?"

Brad finishes inside you, then leaves a trail of kisses down your neck. His hands roam your chest, leaving you no option but to moan into your pillow.

"What happened to the bride who didn't want to fuck her husband?" Brad teases, rubbing your stomach. "Wait a minute."

You've been caught. Although you were mad at Brad for the proposal and birth control, there was also the secret of your pregnancy that you kept from him. You knew that he's been suffering from baby fever ever since you two fucked in the school library. If he found out you were pregnant, he'd be worse than any bridezilla in existence.

"Y/N, are you pregnant?" Brad asks, pulling out of you.

"Yes. I did a pregnancy test three weeks before our wedding. Right now, I'm about nine weeks," You say, pulling up your shirt and showing your husband the little belly bump.

Brad suddenly hugs you tightly and kisses your stomach.

"I'm a dad! You're going to be a mom! We're going to be parents!" Brad happily exclaims, kissing every part of your body.

This is the happiest you've seen him since you danced with him during prom and your college graduation. You liked seeing him this way instead of the lustful, jealous, obsessive personality that scares you at times. Even if you did like a jealousy-fueled fucking, you don't like seeing your lover constantly in emotional distress and scared he'll lose you.

"So, can we go to the beach now?" You ask, making Brad look at you with confusion.

"Are you kidding me? No! What if you trip and fall while walking on the sand? What if you get hit by a beachball or stray umbrella? So many things could go wrong? You're staying here with me where I can pamper and protect you," Brad rambles, kissing your cheek. "Now, do you have any cravings because I can order room service?"

You have fed and fucked the monster, and now you've made it grow into an overprotective mate that will kill anyone who looks at you the wrong way.

"Brad, I'll be fine. I've been fine these past nine weeks," You argue, sitting up and moving off the bed.

"Y/N, get back on the bed where it's safe," Brad commands, his voice becoming deeper.

"I'm just standing up. In cases you didn't know, I can't lay on a bed for seven days straight. My legs will atrophy."

"I'm not playing with you today."

Brad grabs your hands and pulls you onto his lap. His furious eyes make your body go hot, and you obey your husband. After five years, his yandere tendencies have become a turn-on for you. Your subconscious told you not to find it attractive in any way, but pregnancy hormones are fucking with your brain.

"Come here," You squeal, grabbing the collar of your husband's pajamas and pulling it. "Act like that again and make me go crazy."

Brad smirks, then goes down on you. His lovebites bruise your neck, breasts, and shoulders, decorating you with red spots. He lovingly kisses your stomach and lays his head on it for a few seconds. Brad spreads your legs and begins to worship your pussy. He kisses and bites your clit, making you scream so loud the people next door could think you're being murdered. You keep a hand on Brad's head, slowly tugging it to signal your levels of pleasure. Brad sticks his tongue inside you, and you go wild. Your hand tugs Brad's hair so hard you could see him wince in pain.

"Easy, baby. I don't need my hair being pulled out," Brad says, looking at you. "Just relax and enjoy the ride. I've been fucking you for five years. I know what your body wants and how it reacts."

You let go of Brad's hair and lay your hands at your sides. He resumes eating you out, occasionally smiling from seeing you struggle to touch him. You cum on his tongue, making the last of your energy dissipate. Before Brad gets a chance to sit up, you're already demanding food.

"Of course, my darling, and our baby or babies need nutrients," Brad replies, kissing your inner thigh. "I'll read out the menu so you don't have to waste energy reading it."

"But I still have to waste energy comprehending what each dish and drink is. Then, I have to choose what I want," You reply, making sure to get the best out of Brad.

"You're right! I'll read the descriptions, and then you can order whatever you want," Brad replies, opening up the hotel's menu. "You know what, I'll just pick out what you want."

Brad picks up the phone and orders a buffet of food from the hotel's restaurant.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Crack another leg for me," You demand, eating a crab leg and tossing an empty one into a large pile.

"Yes, my darling," Brad answers, cracking multiple legs and handing it to you. "The cake I baked you should be ready in another 30 minutes."

"That's great. Can you stop by Barnes and Noble while you do your grocery run and get this list of books?" You ask, enjoying your food.

"Sure. Sweetie, there's not one parenting book on this list. You need to start learning how to parent before you give-"

"Ugh! I'm so hungry! I can feel the nutrients not reaching my baby!" You dramatically cry, making Brad stop worrying and return to feeding you.

Your marriage proposal may not have been the best, but having Brad bend to your every whim for the next eight months is a good replacement.

[adventuringblind]

Defensive Maneuvers

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!reader

Genre: fluffy with a pinch of angst

Request: yes! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Requests are open for Max, Charles, Oscar, and lando. Don't hesitate to send me ideas!

Summary: The normally soft-spoken leclerc sister becomes the out spoken girl her family knows. What triggers this change? Max Verstappen and his ridiculous father.

Warnings: Jos being Jos, mentions of verbal abuse, mention of physical abuse if you squint, *best Daniel Riccardo voice* nooooot prooooofreaaaad

Notes: written in third person . I am neither the youngest nor have brothers, so I tried my best to get an accurate relationship depiction. Ironically, I'm the oldest with sisters.

Masterlist

The Leclerc sister is known by her brothers as the baby of the family. Even Arthur, who is only older by mere minutes, holds it over her head that she is the youngest.

The constant teasing from her siblings made her learn how to use her quick wit. Verbal comebacks becoming her specialty at a young age. Because of her ability to be polite in public, no one suspects what she is truly capable of.

Her brothers tease her regardless but she lets them. Her sharp tongue making them regret not holding theirs.

Pierre had made this mistake once. Mainly under the influence of Charles convincing him to say something at her expense. The verbal lashing he received in response had him apologizing profusely. Charles doubling over in laughter as her practically lectured his friend. Needless to say, Pierre has yet to make this mistake again.

Charles was by far her favorite sibling. Lorenzo had a habit of bossing her around and Arthur shared a room with her. She loved all her brothers, but felt the most connected to Charles. She followed him around like a lost puppy some days. Ready to cheer him on at every Karting race.

This was where she first encountered Max.

After the race, she went to go congratulate Charles for a race well done. He was third but all the Leclerc’s were proud nonetheless. On the way over to him, she saw Max. He was at majority of the races Charles was at. The two had never talked formally, but they were aware of the others existence.

Something about the situation she was witnessing didn’t felt right. Max was standing with his dad, his knuckles turning white from gripping his second place trophy so tightly.

As she walked by, she almost fell over at hearing how his father was treating him. The slander leaving his mouth over his son placing second almost made her tear up. She was only nine at the time, but even she knew whatever was happening was wrong.

So she steeled herself, took a deep breath, and entered into the conversation. She walked up and tapped Max’s shoulder. He jumped at the feeling, not having seen you coming.

“Hello Max, Charles is busy with family but wanted to congratulate you.” She smiled warmly at the Dutch boy. Obviously taken off guard.

Jos turned to her, also not knowing how to handle this. “Not much to congratulate,” he sneered. The young Leclerc narrows her eyes at him. Not realizing how brash the older man is.

“What do you mean, Mr. Verstappen? There is plenty to congratulate.” She questions back, her tone mildly snarky. Obviously having no intention of backing down. The older man didn’t even bothering responding to her. He turns on his heels and walks away. Yelling back to Max “I’ll be in the car.”

Max looks between the girl who he’d never spoken too and his father. Unsure of what he should do in this situation. Thankfully the girl notices this. “Sorry for stepping in. He sounded unreasonably upset.” She apologized with a huff.

“Thanks actually- for what you did.” Max stutters out. No one had ever taken the time to defend him.it was an unusual feeling. He knows he can’t stay long though. “I should go. I’ll see you around- I guess.” Then he runs off. Waving as he goes.

She had told her mother about it. The older woman explaining what was probably happening at home. It made her sad for the Dutch boy. Having to hear that it happens more often then just races.

This was only the first encounter with Max. The Leclerc sister made it a point to find Max after every race and praise for a job well done. Much to his fathers dismay. She knew she couldn’t stop what was happening, but maybe her words would help ease some of the hurt.

The girls mother occasionally helped out with her quest. Walking with her daughter to find the Dutch and congratulate him.

It became a routine. One that Max was starting to enjoy. The seeking out now being reciprocated. The two even finding time to converse about things aside from racing.

Max’s father had started to become increasingly more annoyed at this fact. Pulling Max away from you. Spitting vulgar words at a child that wasn’t even his own.

Pascals had made a note that if she was directly insulting to Mr. Verstappen, it might make things harder for Max. She still made her snarky remarks and threw insults at the older man, but only loud enough to make Max chuckle.

Her brothers eventually caught on. Charles and Arthur saying nice things to Max in passing. Charles was more strained, but was trying nonetheless.

The brothers began teasing her relentlessly as they grew up. Her fondness for Max only growing. Her quick tongue seemed to falter when they brought up Max. She held a soft spot for him, as he did for her.

When Max and Charles were in formula 2, she was incredibly proud of both of them. She divided her time equally between the two boys. Still always making sure to sing Max’s praises loud enough for everyone to hear.

Originally she though Max’s father would cool down and maybe start to see how talented he is, but she was mistaken. The older man somehow seemed to get more competitive.

It was increasingly easier to talk to each other now since the two both have phones. She comforted over video calls as he ranted about something stupid his father said to him. He listens to her talk about her fathers battle with illness. The two became inseparable. Being the reason for each others smiles on most occasions.

Then formula 1 came. Charles driving for Ferrari and Max for Redbull. The youngest Leclerc baskets in both boy finally making it. Years of hard work paying off.

Max no longer lived at home. Having moved to an apartment in Monaco. This meaning the two could spend more time together. The, now young woman, takes pride in that fact she convinced him to move closer to her.

She’d become more outspoken recently. Opening defending both her brothers and Max. Most people knew not to say anything if she was within earshot.

The year is now 2021 and Max and Lewis are both fighting hard for the championship title. Max was visible upset at the end the race. Second place wasn’t enough if Lewis is going to keep winning.

The young woman immediately trying to find him after the podium celebration. She had seen the look in his fathers eyes and is now frantically trying to beat him to Max. Charles and Arthur found her in a frenzy. Confused because she is usually calm, her sarcastic remarks and opinions given so level that you’d think it was rehearsed.

“I need to find Max.” She explained, panting from running around the paddock. They decided three sets of eyes would be better then one and split off in different direction.

She was so caught up in her search for Max that she hadn’t noticed her phone buzzing in her pocket.

A text from Charles reading: In the back of the Redbull garage. It doesn’t look good.

She took off running spotting snarled waiting for her outside. She could hear the commotion from Jos.

“I was going to try and break it up but they won’t let me in.” Charles gestures to the wall of Redbull engineers. She however, wasn’t going to let them stop her from getting to Max. She shoved her way through with determination and surprising strength. Immediately settling herself between the two Dutch men.

Jos had turned his anger towards her now. His finger getting dangerously close to her face. “You are part of the problem.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “The only problem currently is you.”

“My son has been distracted because of you. His hopes for a title this year not getting any better because of you.” He spits. She can feel his breath on her face.

“Personally, I think Max is a good racer because he wants to be. Not because of you or me helping or distracting.” She lets a smirk form on her lips. “Your just angry because your finally running out of things to berate him about. Hard to be angry when Max is better then you.”

Jos’ face had turned red. She could feel Max’s anxiety increasing from behind her.

Then everything happened in slow motion. She hadn’t noticed Jos’ hand raised above her. Charles moved faster then anyone. Shoving Jos to the side, his hand not getting to connect with anything but the nearest wall.

He was raging now. Thrashing like a child who didn’t get their way. Pierre and Charles who had somehow managed their way inside kept a firm grip on him as Christian ran to get security.

The Youngest Leclerc. The one who spent her days defending Max in secret, keeping the haters at bay never letting Max go a day without know he is loved. Finally she turned around and stared deeply into his eyes. Blue irises glasses over from tears he’d been holding back.

She embraces him warmly. His face buried into the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” She apologized softly.

Max pulled away and gives her a confused look. “On the contrary, I think you were right on time.”

Security had come and grabbed Jos to escort him out of the paddock. Charles and Pierre now finding then tension between the two heating up. The two boys giggling. “I swear if you two don’t kiss or something I will no play nice with Max.” Charles laughed.

She didn’t care about the teasing. Just taking time to comfort Max. The two still conjoined in a loose hold.

Max leans his forehead against hers. “You know I’ve loved you for awhile right?” He smiles.

“You would be stupid to not.” She remarks. Max shaking his head at the remark. “But I have to agree with Charles on this one.”

Max doesn’t hesitate any longer. Placing his lips on hers. Pulling her as close to him as he can. He then pulls away, his lips still close to hers and voice barely a whisper.

“Thank you, for protecting me all these years.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

SWEETHEART!ANAKIN HEADCANONS 3

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Sweetheart!Anakin who knows how much you love stargazing, so one night, he surprises you with a late-night picnic under the stars

Sweetheart!Anakin who was great with kids. To even see him interact with other children as their uncle was so sweet. How he always listened to them, played and entertained them, how he was almost all the time surrounded by running little ones was just the most endearing thing you've ever seen those days

Sweetheart!Anakin who obviously had a golden retriever personality yet with some light shyness (yet it was attractive)

Sweetheart!Anakin who loved to hug you straight after coming back from work. He always said that seeing you was 'his favorite part of the day' and he had to at least have five minutes of hugging you before he could even go undress to some more comfortable clothes

Sweetheart!Anakin who was completely into decorating house for each season (like winter, fall, Easter, etc) with you

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually had a conversation with you about having kids. Although he was sleepy, all cuddled up to you after the long Christmas day spent with his and yours family, and he had a small baby fever (that you acknowledged since he sometimes had a habit of stopping by and looking through the baby clothes). So he was half 'alive' while he was asking you about having little ones running all around, although he highlighted that it's your body and it should be your choice to have kids.

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually collected Lego's. He had a small room for it and in free time he just went there, sometimes closed the doors to be with himself (although if you needed him or just wanted to be with him he didn't stop you from coming inside) and could even build an entire Lego city

Sweetheart!Anakin who wasn't a true sub and wasn't a true dom either. He'd not slap you or hurt you during sex. He knew he'd feel awful afterwards, even if you'd assure him it's okay, that you don't mind. So he tried to gently destroy you

Sweetheart!Anakin who began to feel suspicious about your behavior. Out of a sudden the smell of your lovely coffee was disgusting for you and brought a wave of nausea through you. Also your often morning sicknesses, and stuff like that

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually teared up after finding out you're pregnant and made sure to at least appear at most of your doctor appointments. In general he was very devoted/committed to your pregnancy. You needed a special pillow for pregnant women? He'd buy it the same day you mentioned it. Your back hurt? He'd make sure to relief pain as much as he could. Your feet were sore? He would leave what he had been doing to help you. You felt self-conscious about your body? He'd make sure to remind you how beautiful you are, how glowing, how radiant you are to him every.single.day

Sweetheart!Anakin who trained putting on diapers on everything. From plastic dolls to watermelons, to his mother's cat

Sweetheart!Anakin who was extremely cuddly after your announcement of pregnancy. He'd gently stroke your swollen belly, often searching for the baby's movements

Sweetheart!Anakin who absolutely was adoring you (even more) for carrying a literal human being in your own body for nine months. He himself made sure to remind you how strong you are, how he's proud of you and how he wouldn't be able to do it himself. For him you were a true inspiration, a woman who deserved to be pleased every day, a true super hero. No one could do it like you did, especially if you had not one baby but two

Sweetheart!Anakin who teased you about the gender of the baby;

"I'm fine, just a little dizzy," you said, brushing Anakin's concerned question about your mood. You knew Anakin was worried, but you didn't want to make a big deal out of it. "Really, it's nothing."

He frowned immediately, his smile fading as concern took over his features after seeing your tired face. "You sure? Want to sit down? We can head home if you'd prefer. Padmé won’t mind; she’s more excited about this baby than any of our friends," he added with a playful roll of his eyes.

"No, I’m okay. It’s not like he’s kicking all day or anything,"

“He?” Anakin raised an eyebrow. “I thought you told your doctor to keep it a secret.”

"I didn’t hear it from the doctor," you watched his confusion grow. "It’s my... motherly intuition" you added with a proud smirk.

“Motherly intuition, huh?” Anakin chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. “With kicks that hard? Definitely a girl” he grinned widely.

Sweetheart!Anakin who was shocked to find out you had twins yet was extremely excited, saying he'll have a bigger 'Skywalker's army'

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually was nervous with you when your waters broke. Yet, he refused to leave your side. Almost having an argument with the doctor

Sweetheart!Anakin who sobbed after holding the twins for the first time; a baby boy and baby girl

Sweetheart!Anakin who told you to absolutely take at least one entire week to take rest after childbirth (without any buts). So, the kids were on him and he brought them to you only when they needed milk (yes, it tired him out but you deserved like no one else a proper break)

Sweetheart!Anakin who had a deal with you that you change diaper by turns;

You were both a mess, but not the bad kind—just the kind that comes with adjusting to the whirlwind of having a newborns. It was exhausting, overwhelming, and yet, you wouldn't trade it for anything. The quiet of the night was suddenly interrupted by the boy's sharp cries from his crib, signaling either a dirty diaper or another round of breastfeeding. You groaned softly, feeling the weight of the day pulling you already down, and reached out to gently pat Anakin's toned arm, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

“Ani, your turn…” you mumbled, barely opening your eyes, too drained to even move.

Anakin grumbled in response, his head shifting slightly on the pillow, his messy hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision.

“Ugh, why my turn…” he muttered, slowly removing his arm from across his face, his eyes still squeezed shut against the reality of waking up. “...I changed him last time” he added, his voice low and raspy with sleep.

“I know, I know…” you replied, your voice soft and tired as you burrowed deeper into the covers. “Just… change him, please… I can’t handle his crying right now.”

Anakin sighed, the sound a mixture of resignation and love. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the dim light filtering into the room from the moonlight, and sat up with a groan, rubbing his face with both hands to try to shake off the fog of sleep. “What time is it…?” he asked, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.

“Dunno… Just… go, please,” you murmured, turning over in bed, desperately trying to find a comfortable position and a moment’s peace.

“I’m going, I’m going…” Anakin muttered, dragging himself out of bed. His body protested with every step, but he made his way to the crib and gently scooped up their wailing son into his arms. “Hey, buddy… hey there,” he whispered soothingly, pressing a soft kiss to his tiny head. He just prayed the girl next to him wouldn't actually wake up right now

The baby’s cries softened slightly at the sound of his father’s voice, but the discomfort remained. Anakin walked over to the changing table, his movements slow but careful, and laid the boy down, his large hands dwarfing the baby’s small frame. “Shh, it’s okay… Daddy’s got you,” he murmured

Suddenly, after Anakin removed the dirty diaper from the newborn, he felt a warm spray hit his chest. He froze for a moment, disbelief and exhaustion warring on his face. “Dammit—” he cursed under his breath, quickly grabbing the diaper and trying to cover the baby before the tiny stream could go any further. ���Little—” he started, but cut himself off with a sigh, knowing he couldn't really be mad at the baby.

The sound of your soft giggles broke through his frustration. You didn't have to look up to know what had happened and you would be lying if it wasn't somehow funny. But not for Anakin..He snapped his head in your direction, his eyes narrowing playfully as he saw you hiding your face in a pillow, trying to muffle your laughter.

“Oh, so this is funny to you, huh?” he grumbled, though there was no real heat in his voice. He finished changing the boy, making sure the new diaper was secure, before picking him up and heading back to the bed. Anakin flopped down beside you, carefully laying the boy in the space between you two. He knew how the boy was sensitive and just a small movement of putting him down to his crib could end up with more cries

“Yeah, go on, laugh all you want,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcastic amusement

“At least his aim is already on point…” you whispered, still grinning, unable to resist poking fun at the situation.

Anakin let out a mock groan, glancing down at the boy, who had mercifully stopped crying and was now staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes, cooing softly. “His aim is all over the damn place,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. He reached out to gently brush a finger across the boy's cheek, his frustration melting away as he looked at his son.

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually was so uplifting after you had twins in more ways than one but especially about sex;

The quiet room was filled with the soft sounds of Anakin’s belt unbuckling and his pants unzipping, the noise almost deafening in the intimate silence. The kids were with your mother, so the house was all for you. And since you haven't had enough time for such activities lately, why not use such opportunity now? He continued to trail gentle kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he spoke, “I’ve been wanting to touch you all day..”

You hesitated, a mixture of shyness and concern creeping into your voice. “Wait—I… You know that after childbirth, that place isn’t the same… Maybe we should wait a bit longer…”

Anakin froze for a moment, his lips still pressed against your neck as he absorbed your words. A flicker of disappointment crossed his mind, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of understanding and concern.. He lifted his head, his warm breath brushing your skin as he whispered, “Are you sure? Is it… uncomfortable for you?”

You looked away, your voice trembling slightly with anxiety. “I just want to make you feel good…but I know that place isn’t the same as before, and—”

Anakin softly shushed you, placing a tender finger on your lips to stop your nervous rambling. “Hey… relax,” he murmured, his tone soothing and patient.

He adjusted his position, hovering above you with his hands resting on either side of your head, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t care about that,” he said firmly but with infinite gentleness. “Your comfort and well-being mean more to me than anything else.”

His gaze softened as his hand moved to caress your face, his fingers now tracing the delicate curve of your jawline. “Don’t worry about me or how it might feel. Your comfort and happiness come first. If you’re not ready, I’ll wait—no matter how long it takes.”

You bit your lip, still uncertain. “I mean, I want to do it… but what if it doesn’t feel the same for you?”

Anakin’s expression softened with a tender smile, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. “Do you really think that’s what matters to me?” he asked, shaking his head slightly, his voice tinged with affectionate amusement.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and reassuring. “It’s not just about the physical sensation for me. It’s about being close to you, sharing that intimacy with you. Any pleasure I get is just a bonus. What truly matters is that you feel safe, loved, and happy.”

His eyes held yours with a sincerity that made your heart swell. “I don’t care if your body has changed. You’re still you—still the woman I love, still as beautiful and sexy as ever.”

Anakin leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So please… stop worrying about me and just let me love you"

Sweetheart!Anakin who would actually try to help your leaking with milk breasts..;

he paused, his lips still lingering over the sensitive bud, before gently nibbling and teasting it with his tongue. His voice - thick with desire, broke the silence "God, i just want to taste you..every day, every night.."

"A-ani" you gasped, a flush of embarrassment rising as you felt the milk begin to leak from your chest

Anakin's eyes widened slightly as he saw the milk seeping from your chest, a blend of surprise and fascination evident in his gaze.

“Oh… gods…”

He leaned back just enough to take in the sight, his eyes transfixed on the delicate droplets. A surge of primal desire mingled with his deep affection.

His fingers, gentle and tentative, traced the path of the milk, careful not to hurt you “Can I…?” he asked softly, his voice a hushed whisper filled with both awe and longing to which you nodded

Anakin continued his attentions with a careful, deliberate rhythm, his mouth and tongue exploring your chest with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. His gaze remained fixed on your face, every shift in your expression and every soft moan drawing him in further.

Occasionally, he pulled away just enough to murmur against your skin, his voice a low, husky growl laced with a mix of frustration and yearning. “How is our kids so lucky… having this all the time while I only get to savor it so rarely…”

Sweetheart!Anakin who would spend time to write his own short book to read for the bedtime. For him, most of the stories were simply the same and some informations were repeated - princess captured by dragon, etc

Sweetheart!Anakin who would definitely make his own drawings to the book and soon after read it for the bedtime to the twins

Sweetheart!Anakin who had a habit of saying encouraging phrases to his children, especially when they were crying and feeling down;

As some days before, today's was the day where your daughter had a low 'battery' in everything - tantrum after tantrum, cries after cries and it was all getting already to your head. So, to not leave you alone, Anakin of course stepped in and after a timeout and a talk about proper behavior, he began the small therapy session to lift up the girl's mood;

As Anakin knelt before his baby girl, the little girl's wide, brown eyes glistened with unshed tears. Anakin gently took the soft arms of his daughter into his large, calloused hands, offering a smile as he encouraged the toddler with his usual routine. "C'mon, baby," he murmured softly, "I'm big."

The girl's tiny voice struggled to form the words perfectly, although the lisped response only made Anakin's smile grow wider.

"I'm brave," he continued, and after the girl actually repeated he added "I'm beautiful"

"I beautifu-u-u-l-l" the girl sniffed the tears back in

Anakin's smile only widened at his girl's innocent attempts to pronounce the challenging word, and he gently reached out, tenderly wiping away the tears from the child's eyes. "Yes, you are, beautiful. So beautiful, so precious," he whispered, the genuine warmth in his voice showing through every word. He gave his daughter a gently nudge "Now, c'mere, give me huggies."

Sweetheart!Anakin who's daughter's personality was a spitting image of his with your looks and his son had his looks with your personality. So, he was over the moon with all of you

Sweetheart!Anakin who definitely used his friends to have a moment with you;

A brief silence settled between you, the room filled only with the soft sounds of the boy's and girls breathing. They were sleeping on your bed, after a rough night of breastfeeding, diaper change and toothing..Finally, you broke the quietness, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been this tired.”

Anakin sighed, the exhaustion evident in his voice as he kept his gaze on the ceiling “Me neither… I don’t know how someone so tiny can be so loud and exhausting.” He paused, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “What if we let Padmé take them for the weekend?”

You raised an eyebrow, catching his gaze. “You trying to get rid of them already?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant—” Anakin quickly backpedaled, turning to you with a mix of frustration and weariness in his eyes. “I just thought… maybe for a night or two, we could have a break. Just us.”

You hesitated, the idea of being away from your little twins tugging at your heartstrings. “I’m not even sure if Padmé would want them.”

Anakin’s frustration eased, replaced by a soft scoff. “Are you kidding? She’s absolutely smitten with them. I’d be shocked if she didn’t jump at the chance.” He chuckled lightly, the sound a balm to the heavy atmosphere. “She’s offered to babysit a bunch of times, you know. Don’t you think it’d be nice? Just the two of us… no babies, no screaming, no middle-of-the-night wake-ups…”

You bit your lip, still uncertain. “I don’t know…”

Sensing your hesitation, Anakin reached for your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb. “Come on… just picture it. A whole night with nothing to worry about. Just you and me. Do you know how long it’s been since we had that?”

“Probably a month ago,” you replied, half-smiling at the thought.

“Exactly… way too long. I just want to enjoy being with you for a change… we might actually get to sleep” he added, his weariness almost palpable.

You finally nodded, conceding. “Alright… just call her in the morning.”

Anakin’s grin grew wider, relief washing over him. “Don’t worry, she’ll take them. She loves them…” He glanced down at the little boy, who had finally settled. “Just maybe a little less after tonight”

“It’s so quiet…” you murmured, almost as if the silence itself was something to be suspicious of. After padmè took both of your children, the almost uncomfortable quietness overwhelmed your entire room, especially your head

“It is… I can actually hear myself think for once,” he quipped, his tone light and teasing.

“No screaming, no crying… just silence,” you added, almost disbelieving “It’s so quiet, it almost hurts my ears,” you confessed, half-joking but half-serious, as if the absence of noise was too good to be true.

Anakin pulled back slightly to look at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hurts your ears? You’ve been begging for silence for days, and now that you’ve got it, you’re complaining? I thought you’d be celebrating.”

He paused, the smirk fading slightly as he considered your words. “But, honestly, I get it. The buddy's a sweetheart, but he’s a handful and the small princess is already sassy. We both needed this break. You can’t fool me—I saw how tired you were this morning.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a knowing look that stopped you in your tracks. “Don’t tell me you miss them already.”

Anakin laughed softly, shaking his head in amusement as you kept being quiet, almost ignoring his comment. “Already missing twins after half an hour? You’re such a softie.”

“I’m not a softie” you shot back, a hint of defensiveness in your voice.

“Are you sure about that?” Anakin raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “You’re missing our little balls of energy after less than an hour. Sounds pretty soft to me.”

“Stop,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m enjoying the peace and quiet, see?” you waved your hands in the air to emphasize your words

Anakin smirked, obviously not buying it. He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, really? Then why have you sighed four times in the last five minutes?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not appreciating being caught out. “Oh, stop,” you muttered, turning to head upstairs, hoping to escape his teasing.

Anakin’s laughter followed you, his smirk never fading as he moved to follow. “Ah, the denial is strong in you,” he teased, clearly enjoying every moment of this playful exchange.

Despite your attempt to brush it off, a small frown tugged at your lips as you climbed the stairs, knowing he was right. As much as you relished the rare quiet, a part of you did miss the noise—the chaotic, beautiful noise that had become the soundtrack of your life. Which was completely weird to you.. because what the hell is wrong with you to miss the 24/7 loudness?

He reached the top of the stairs and saw you walking towards the bedroom, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Come on,” he teased, his voice light and coaxing, “just admit it. Say you miss them.”

You didn’t slow down, but he quickly caught up to you in the hallway, gently grabbing your wrist to stop you in your tracks. He stepped closer, his gaze soft as he looked down at you, still holding onto your wrist. “Admit that you miss those little devilish infants.”

“they're not some devilish infants,” you protested, your brows furrowing defensively. “they're a very cute, sweet, pair of twins with just a few growing teeth, and…” Your voice wavered as tears welled up in your eyes. “And he has those blue, smiling eyes and she has those brown eyes that I adore… that wide, innocent grin… and they have this thin layer of baby hair on their little heads…”

Your voice broke, the tears finally spilling over. Anakin didn’t hesitate—he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight, protective hug. He gently rubbed your back in soothing circles, trying to calm you. “You’re proving my point,” he murmured, his chin resting atop your head.

“I miss them so much…” you sobbed against his chest, your words muffled by his shirt. “I don’t even know why… I’m so tired of changing diapers, feeding them, making sure they doesn’t swallow their toys, changing their clothes… but I still miss them.”

Anakin held you tighter, his embrace firm and reassuring as you cried into his chest. He continued to rub your back, his touch gentle and comforting. “Shhh… it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft and calming. “theyre fine. They're with Padmé, and probably having the time of their life right now.”

“Do you really think so?” you asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him, your nose red and eyes puffy from crying.

Anakin smiled tenderly down at you, using his thumb to gently wipe away the tears that clung to your cheeks. He nodded, his expression full of reassurance. “Of course. They're in good hands with Padmé. She’ll take care of them like they're her own.”

A new worry crept into your mind, and you hesitated before voicing it. “Do you think they'll forget about us?”

Anakin couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he shook his head, guiding you gently into the bedroom. “You’re overthinking again, Rapunzel. We’re their parents—there’s no way they'll forget us. You’re his and hers mother. He’ll always know who we are.”

He closed the door behind you, the room now filled with a comforting silence. “Come on,” he urged softly, leading you towards the bed. “Let’s get some sleep. We need it.”

Sweetheart!Anakin who after ten years, on your anniversary, showed you your dreamed house he had been building behind your back and soon later you moved in to live there

Sweetheart!Anakin who sometimes let his kids wake him up in the middle of the night;

Anakin slept deeply, his arm draped over your waist and his head nestled into the crook of your neck. His breathing was steady and calm, his usually intense features softened in sleep.

Suddenly, a jolt woke him as he felt a small, unexpected smack on his leg. He shot up, instantly alert, scanning the room for the source of the disturbance.

His gaze softened when he saw the twins standing beside the bed, wide-eyed and grinning mischievously.

“What are you two doing up at this hour?” Anakin asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and drowsiness.

“Can’t sleep,” the girl replied, her voice lisping with a playful smile.

“We want ice cream!” the boy added, his tone matching his sister's in enthusiasm.

Anakin raised an eyebrow at their request, struggling to suppress a smile. “Ice cream, huh? Nice try, but it’s way too late for that. It’s past your bedtime.”

“Please!” They both chimed in, their pleas growing louder.

Anakin winced at their volume, casting a worried glance at you to make sure you weren’t disturbed. “Shhh... Mommy's sleeping. No ice cream tonight. You need your rest.”

“Please, Daddy... just this last time,” she begged.

Anakin’s resolve wavered as he saw the pleading in her eyes. He knew giving in now might lead to more late-night requests, but their innocent faces made it hard to resist.

“Fine,” he relented, “but this really is the last time. No more ice cream in the middle of the night, okay?”

With a reluctant sigh, Anakin climbed out of bed, his movements stiff from being jolted awake. He ruffled the twins’ hair affectionately, his amusement barely concealed.

“Alright, let’s go,” he mumbled, taking their little hands in his bigger ones. “But we have to be quiet so we don’t wake up your mom.”

Sweetheart!Anakin who actually made time for the special 'family time' - you'd play together different games, go out for long walks (which was a perfect way to tire out the kids), watch on the repeat 'Toy Story' or any different Disney's/ Pixar's real good movies while you're all cuddled up together. Also teaching kids from a young age how to cook/cut (although he swore to God that he was extremely nervous about giving them a small knife to cut vegetables or other stuff)

Sweetheart!Anakin who was a patient man. Not only with you but especially with kids. He didn't yell at them, but yes he gave punishments for bad behavior (mostly like time out, no dessert and etc) but it all was with unconditional love. Anakin always had a small talk with twin (that behaved badly) about their behavior and teach them the proper way to communicate their emotions and needs

Sweetheart!Anakin who made sure to prioritize your time together and in all craziness of raising twins, make time and spend it with you alone (like small dates, flowers without occasion, again the love letters whenever stuck together with flowers or by your bed in morning when he left to work)

Sweetheart!Anakin who made sure to teach the twins the true prospect of love, to treat everyone with kindness and to help others

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

The Nine Worlds series (Hands of the Emperor)

nothing less than the world by ariex09

At least there wasn’t an audience for the look Ludvic turned on Kip and the too neutral way he said, “Tor?”

Kip could feel himself flushing - in Astandalas this was the kind of thing that had lost him jobs before - but he had the excuse of, first of all, amnesia, and second of all, “He didn’t give me any other name!” Kip hissed. “He deflected me off the topic twice!”

-

AU where the landslide at the Liauu happens several years earlier, and the younger Kip has a rather different experience of the future.

diving for a flame pearl by ariex09

It took me an appalling three hours and thirteen minutes to even realize that Kip was gone.

Ah, but that was too charitable. Once we had a timeline together, we discovered that Franzel had seen Kip last, turning in for bed at twelve minutes before midnight, and it was not until Shoänie went to wake him at dawn that anyone knew he was anything but asleep in bed. This meant that by the time the knock on my study door came, shortly past the third hour of the morning, Kip could already have been missing for more than nine hours.

-

In which Cliopher goes missing midway through The Hands of the Emperor. Fortunately, he has friends and family willing to do whatever it takes to bring him home.

A nap at the feet of the sun by SunInGlory

Prompt: Cliopher somehow falls asleep on HR’s robe, and rather than wake him, HR has one of the guards cut that part of the robe off of him. Just looking for something soft and sweet here, but of course go in whichever direction you’d like. Bonus points if Petty Treasons era.

---

Cliopher decides to take a nap. Okay, perhaps decides is too strong of a word.

Stranger Things

Robin's Guide to the Care and Feeding of Your Newly Adopted Former Mean Girl by formosus_iniquis

She extends a hand, ignoring the laugh it gets her, “Welcome to Hawkins, I’m Robin, occasional Dustin babysitter.”

The girl’s smile pulls lopsided at her mouth, kissed with a bit of irony and undeniably charmed. “It’s nice to meet you Robin,” her voice is soft, and a little unsure. Wavering like Becky Simpson’s tone deaf oboe playing, unsure of what pitch and timbre to land on. “I’m Stephanie Henderson, Dustin’s cousin.”

The bit crumbles immediately between Robin’s fingers.

“Stephanie? You went with Stephanie? Are you kidding? We workshopped so many names!”

Marvel

Three Kinds of Learning by luchia

Erik intends to recruit Raven's supposedly amazing, all-powerful older brother. Instead, he finds himself dealing with Charles Xavier, a weak, tweed-addled professor who seems to think powers don't matter nearly as much as personality. Erik's misconceptions are blown apart when Raven goes missing.

SVSSS

In Durance Veil by Mikkeneko (+ podfic)

Right, the villain's beautiful daughter, who had caught a glimpse of the Protagonist from afar and, naturally, fell madly in love at first sight. She'd used her knowledge of her father's lair to sneak into the dungeon where Luo Binghe was being held and eventually proved the key to his escape, betraying her father for love. "So, you want to try to find some random girl who's willing to sneak in past the guards to Luo Binghe's prison and..."

"What random girl could we possibly trust? I'll do it myself!"

"You know what," Shang Qinghua said. "Somehow I feel like I should have expected this."

---

Shen Qingqiu self-detonated at Hua Yue City, but he didn't die. Instead, he wakes up to a world where Cang Qiong is victorious and Luo Binghe has been imprisoned beneath the mountain. What's a poor transmigrator to do? He has to find a way to free the Protagonist before he breaks out and razes the Sect to the ground! Clearly, the best way to do this is to pretend to be one of Luo Binghe's future wives.

Clearly.

Harry Potter

A Place That Fits by BitchesLoveAngstImBitches

Harry had been prepared to save Sirius’ life, no matter what the cost. Harry put himself in danger, and Sirius had come running, and it was the last thing he ever did.

And then it turned out Harry’s life wasn’t even worth saving: Neither can live while the other survives.

At the rate of Voldemort’s rising power, Harry would be lucky to survive the year.

Sirius had died trying to help Harry. He’d died for nothing.

-

Harry is struggling in the aftermath of the Ministry battle to come to terms with Sirius' death. His isolation and mistreatment at Privet Drive only make things worse. Remus Lupin checks on him in Surrey, but with both of them grieving, his assumptions about Harry might only hurt him more.

[countessvalentines]

Private Dancer

pairing: cooper howard/f!reader

word count: 2.1K

warnings: 18+ Only, Minors Do Not Read!! sexual tension, smut, P in V sex, light bondage, swearing,

summary: you meet cooper howard at a vault tec singles mixer after his divorce, things heat up when he recognizes you from your night-time activities...

notes: this is my first time posting a fic, pls be nice :)

dividers by @saradika

gif by @doortotomorrow

This is definitely not where you'd thought you'd find yourself on Valentine's day… in an over-expensive and exaggerated bunker.

Vault-Tecs Hollywood Vault just happened to be completed on Valentine's Day, so they combined their grand reveal with a singles mixer. They definitely know how to put a positive spin on the end of the world, or at least, try to.

The place is decorated to the nines… even Vault Boys dressed like Cupid. The usual blue and yellow replaced with pink and red, hearts everywhere and roses sprinkled throughout. There are people dressed in the trademark jumpsuits going around passing out champagne, and you grab the closest glass as it passes by.

You don't even know what youre doing here,

this isn't usually your idea of fun, but Vault-Tec damn near guaranteed to match you with the "ideal partner" after all of the personality tests they made you do. You figured, what do you have to lose? They have so much money and if you get a free few drinks and a night out on them, it's worth at least an hour of your time.

"Ya got anything stronger?" a familiar voice sounds from behind you and I instinctively turn around. No. It can't be. Cooper. Fucking. Howard. You'd heard about the divorce, so did everyone, but this is the last place you'd expect to find him. A Vault-Tec singles mixer? They must have paid him to make an appearance.

Before you realize you've been staring, he makes eye contact with you and dips his hat in my direction. You're frozen and starstruck, he was your first crush…

You used to watch his movies every Sunday, they'd comfort you when you were sick…and when you werent. It's too late to run as he approaches you and you do your best to think straight.

"Pardon me, miss. I think you dropped something." He says as he points down to the red, heart-shaped clutch you swore you were holding a minute ago. You blush in embarrassment and begin to bend down, but he beats you to the punch.

He stands up and holds the bag in one hand, holding it out for you to retrieve. Still apple cheeked, you reach for the bag and your hand brushes his, and let it linger a little too long.

"Of course, I try to make a good impression and I end up looking like a fool instead."

"No, not at all. We movie stars all just look slick because we get to do it more than once. In life, we just get the one shot."

You grin at his immediate charm and winning smile. It's hard not to blush, but you try to cover your girlish glee by taking a sip of champagne.

"Cooper Howard." He introduces himself as if the entire world doesn't know who he is.

You introduce myself in turn and he clinks the glass of whiskey he was just handed against your champagne glass.

"I hope you don't mind me sayin, but, you don't seem like the type of woman to be at a function like this."

It's not what you expect to hear, and it seems to be a compliment… it can't be, right?

"Oh? What makes you say that Mr. Howard?" I ask earnestly.

"Well, you're one of the Dollface Dames ain'tcha? One of Lola's girls."

As a married man for most of the time you've been a burlesque performer, you wouldn't have expected him to have seen me on that tiny Santa Monica stage.

"How'd you know that?" You ask with piqued interest.

"I've been a regular at that bar, oh, going on ten years now. Usually don't make it to the Wednesday night shows, on account of being a workin' man and all. But, lately, I ain't been workin' as much, found myself there the last few shows."

"I can't say that makes me feel any less embarrassed around you." You confess.

"Oh, forgive an old cowboy if I've made you uncomfortable…"

"No, it's just that… you know what's underneath this dress." Your cheeks only get redder and you feel yourself even more flush than before.

Cooper seems to blush along with you, and gives a sideways smile.

"I s'pose I do…" He trails off as he takes his own awkward sip. By the look on his face, you feel like he might be picturing it…

"I'd ironically feel more comfortable taking my clothes off in front of strangers." You continue earnestly.

After a pause that seems like it lasts an eternity, you get the courage to break the silence.

"You're right though…" you agree. "It's not my usual scene." You take another sip of champagne, polishing it off and putting the glass down on a nearby tray.

Cooper exhales a laugh. "Yeah, I think im with you on that."

The thought of Cooper Howard twirling around a bar half naked with glimmering rhinestone panties is enough for you to erout into laughter and he can't help but join you.

You lead him down hallway after hallway, twisting and turning until you're sure that it's far enough away.

You press the button on the wall, and it opens into a spacious suite. There's a balcony that overlooks the simulated pacific ocean with a perpetual sunset. It's quite breathtaking, but you're not here for the view.

You motion for him to follow you inside and you take his hand. You lead him to the edge of the bed and push him gently against the chest.

"Ready for your private performance Mr. Howard?" You ask, taking a pose in front of him.

"As I'll ever be, sweetheart." He replies, resting his hands on the bed and leaning back slightly.

You begin to dance seductively to the song playing in your head. You turn around, facing away from him and swaying your hips from side to side. Slowly you pull one sleeve of your dress down over your shoulder. You flash your eyes to catch his gaze and smirk when you notice him transfixed.

The dress gets to your waist and you pull it down slowly so it pools at your ankles. The black lace of your underwear enhancing the beauty of your skin.

Again you turn, this time facing him. Your hands crossed across your chest to hide your immodesty for now.

You manage to reach a hand up in your hair and grab it between your fingers, twirling it and pulling it in a flirtatious manner.

Cooper is watching intently, eyes barely blinking as he follows your movements. You turn your dance moves into steps, moving closer to him. As you do, you notice his growing erection and can't help but bite your lip.

It's then you feel is best to reveal your assets fully to him, and you teasingly move your arm away from your chest.

"Ain't you a sight." He says in a raspy, deep whisper.

You're so close now that you're standing between his thighs, you lean forward, sliding your hands from his shoulders down his arms to his hands. You pick them up and place his hands on your waist before you whisper in return.

"Your turn, Mr. Howard."

One by one you begin unbuttoning his black, button down shirt and kissing each bit of skin you uncover, leaving little red lipstick marks behind. You're able to get to his navel before he puts two fingers below your chin and forcefully pushes up so you look at him.

He leans down to catch your lips with his and kisses you deeply. He runs his tongue over yours before sucking your lower lip. You stand up briefly, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer.

Without a thought, you straddle his waist and begin undoing his embellished, silver belt buckle. You're able to pull it out of the loops of his black jeans, but then he grabs it from you.

For a moment, the flurry of kisses stops and he smirks at you. In a matter of seconds, he's expertly tied the belt around your hands.

You've no choice but to keep them together in front of you and he tightens the grip so you can't get yourself free.

"Now, that ain't too tight, is it darlin?"

You're taken aback so much all you can do is shake your head no. You weren't expecting it, but you also weren't expecting to be so aroused because of it either.

He nods and sits up on the bed for a moment to unbutton and remove his jeans and boots. His attention goes back to you, kneeling with hands restrained.

With calloused fingers, he grabs your jaw and whispers so close you can feel his lips move against yours.

"You're sure you want this?"

You nod softly before taking his lips in yours again. After a few more passionate kisses, you move your lips to his chest, down his stomach and on his inner thighs.

You push your body against his so he lies back, your silky hair brushing against his sensitive skin. You look up into his eyes, watching you with lustful interest and you smile knowingly before taking his cock in your lips.

A blissful sigh escapes him as his lead leans back in pleasure. You wrap your mouth around the tip, then remove it briefly before taking a bit more of him between your lips and repeating, tasting more and more of him each time your mouth returns.

You feel his strong fingers intertwine with your hair and pull, instinctively you look to him in response.

"Cmere." He motions with his free hand.

You adhere to his request and he slides his hands over your breasts, to your sides and your waist. He digs his fingers into your skin as he pulls you against his body.

You place your tied hands behind his neck and wrap your legs around his waist. He's holds you up with ease, his strength evident.

Effortlessly, he lifts you and slides you onto his length gradually. He exhales a satisfied groan as he begins to move you both. He fills you entirely, and you can't help but whimper as he continues to guide you along his shaft.

You feel your arousal build faster and the sensations of lust increasing, your hips instinctively grinding against him. You yearn to feel him, to feel the way his cock feels inside you and how he positions it just so.

He puts one arm underneath you to hold you up and with the other, his fingers reach between you and find your clit. He starts swirling his finger around in a circle over the sensitive bud as your whimpers get more and more frequent and higher pitched.

"Cooper…don't stop." You plead with him in a whisper against his cheek.

"I don't intend to, darlin." He reassures, his breath hitching and his own groans and grunts creating a melody of sexual pleasure.

As he promised, his fingers continue to expertly stroke your clit, and his cock continues to buck into you as he leads you to the nearest wall to push you into it.

With a soft thud, he pushes into you and buries his face in your hair. You can feel your muscles contracting around his shaft, your

cunt throbbing in time with his thrusts.

"That's it, baby." He coos in your ear. "Come for me." Coopers instructions reverberate through your body and it doesn't take long for it to oblige.

You feel yourself convulsing around him, your head tossing back and your hands trying to grip his shoulders. You claw at him as you feel your ecstacy reach its peak. You scream in time with your release, repeating his name over and over like a prayer.

"Cooper…Cooper… mmm." You try to speak in between gasps but are unable to say much.

He follows quickly behind, his release spilling into you and you can feel the warmth flooding you inside. You plant a soft and tender kiss on his gasping lips, gripping him tightly with your thighs.

His body starts to come down, the both of you catching your breath and holding each other skin to skin. Neither one of you want to break the contact, and Coopers eyes flutter open to meet your gaze.

"That was one hell of a dance, sugar."

[blushstarot]

PICK A CARD: a message from your future self

Pick whichever picture you feel more attracted to and skip to that pile.

Pile 1

nine of cups, four of wands (reversed), the magician (reversed).

Okay, but this pile is giving me really sweet vibes, your future self feels like a genuinely carrying person, and looks back at you as a mother figure would. They just want you to be happy and feel welcomed and the energy is overall very heartwarming. Quick thing I want to add before y'all actually read the letter, i don't know if some of you are fans of musicals, specifically of Hamilton, but while I was writing the letter, the melody of dear theodosia was playing in my head so yeah, it might be important for you to know.

"Right now you may feel like you don't fit in, that you lack support, and that you aren't enough. I know you feel insecure but believe when I tell you that you don't have to be scared about that, you are enough and you all the skills and abilities you need to be successful. The universe is working to bring blessings your way, but you have to put some work on it too. Use your intellect, concentration and willpower to make this wonderful things happen, you have the power to manifest the outcome you want. Leave the past behind and put your mind in anything you want to accomplish, I know all our wishes and dreams will become a reality soon enough, for now it's the time of time of happiness, joyfulness and fulfillment."

**As in all the PACs, just take what resonates and leave what doesn't, this is for entertainment only, so have fun with it!

Pile 2

page of cups (reversed), strength (reversed), page of pentacles.

I actually had to redo this pile because I got busy with something important mid reading, and when I had time to continue I couldn't really connect to it again, so I pulled other three cards to do the reading again. The vibes then and the vibes in this new one, suggest that your future self know you are having hard times, and are probably dealing with some childhood related issues, but they want to tell you that things will get better. Also something tells me that they REALLY wanted you to get their message, since they sent both the bearer of messages and the bearer of good news.

"You're going through difficult times, and right now I want you to try to connect with your inner child by embracing the fun side of life. I've always loved how we are young at heart, even sometimes a little bit naïve, but lately you've been ignoring your inner emotions and listening too much to people that are bringing you and your self-esteem down. I bring you good news from the future, a future where all our goals are achieved, but that is only possible if you make the right decisions now and put the groundwork necessary. The future I'm from might seem too far away from were you are today, but time passes quickly and is unforgiving, so I want you to take my advise and keep it close to your heart. I know you can become a person who is both mature and young at heart, I've seen it and have been cheering for you through all that journey, because after all I'm you, and I've already done it."

**As in all the PACs, just take what resonates and leave what doesn't, this is for entertainment only, so have fun with it!

Pile 3

the fool, strength (reversed), five of swords.

I feel like your future self is encouraging you to start something new, maybe something you always wanted to try but never really made time to give it a chance. They want you to focus on the positive and to stay away from people that don't support your dreams. Overall, I feel this is more of a warning of what's to come, in hopes it helps you to be more prepare to face it.

"You're going to enter a new chapter in your life, it may look like something difficult at first, but you need to tap into your inner strength and don't let your fears and anxiety paralyze you. This new chapter is full of exciting and thrilling adventures, you just have to trust your heart and make a leap of fate. If you are not careful, you might end up self-sabotaging and getting involved in a serious conflict, causing unnecessary stress. When the time is right, I need you to stand up for what you truly want and what you believe."

**As in all the PACs, just take what resonates and leave what doesn't, this is for entertainment only, so have fun with it!

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think of your message.

You can find more of my PACs on my master list, and if you have any suggestions on future PACs you want to see me do, you can send me and ask.

Bye byeee ✨

[jackoshadows]

I think we don't talk enough about how Jon Snow secretly had a sword made for Arya at Winterfell - without anyone knowing! And that this was something he was planning on for a while, with the intention to teach Arya some fundamental sword skills - without anyone knowing!!

It reminds me about how much Arya must have poured out her heart and soul to Jon Snow about EVERYTHING, considering how much Jon knows about her. The very best of confidantes who guarded their secrets with each other and are the most loyal of siblings.

It was to Jon Snow that Arya goes, after being bullied for her looks, worried that she too was a bastard and Jon who consoled her (ignoring his own pain at being one). It's Jon who praises her as pretty and clever and understands that deep curiosity and ambition in her.

It's Jon who understands that Arya is interested in something different and that this is also deserving of attention. The ONLY person in the whole of Winterfell - not her parents, her other siblings, her teacher. Only Jon Snow.

I can imagine Jon and Arya just hanging out in a quiet corner of the Godswood, under the weirwood, with Arya pouring out her frustrations and chatting about playing with the serving girls and Jon talking about his day practicing the sword. They know each other so well, that they are famous for finishing each other's thoughts. They share such a singular bond that he even got her sword name right!!

Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together: "Needle!" The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north. - Jon, AGoT

Making Needle wouldn't have been easy considering it had to be done secretly. Clearly Jon thought that both his father and Catelyn wouldn't have been happy if they knew that the bastard was having swords made for their daughter.

"Give it to me." Reluctantly Arya surrendered her sword, wondering if she would ever hold it again. Her father turned it in the light, examining both sides of the blade. He tested the point with his thumb. "A bravo's blade," he said. "Yet it seems to me that I know this maker's mark. This is Mikken's work." Lord Eddard Stark sighed. "My nine-year-old daughter is being armed from my own forge, and I know nothing of it. The Hand of the King is expected to rule the Seven Kingdoms, yet it seems I cannot even rule my own household. How is it that you come to own a sword, Arya? Where did you get this?" - Arya, AGoT

Jon Snow took the time to research swords that Arya could hold and handle. He must have been up in Maester Luwin's turret looking through books for the design and asked questions of the Winterfell master-at-arms Rodrik Cassel about Braavosi swords.

She giggled at him. "It's so skinny." "So are you," Jon told her. "I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're fast enough." - Jon, AGoT

He'd had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo's blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. He wondered if she still had it. Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her, but if she tried to stick the Bastard, it could mean her life. - Jon, ADwD

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl. - Jon, ADwD

After getting the idea of what kind of sword works for Arya's small hands, Jon then goes to Mikken, requesting that he make a small Bravo's blade. I feel certain that Mikken had no idea that he was secretly having a sword made for the Lord of Winterfell's daughter. I wonder what Mikken's thoughts were on Jon Snow wanting that specific blade made. He clearly did not think it important to mention to Ned. And no one knew - not Robb or Theon or even the Winterfell master-at-arms!

Given how sudden the whole deal was with Ned leaving for King's Landing, IMO, it's clear that Jon was planning on secret rendezvous with Arya where he could show her the basics of using a sword. Jon is certainly no Syrio Forel and Arya certainly learned more from an actual Bravo master fencer than from Jon Snow.

And yet just knowing that Jon had Needle secretly made and was planning on secret lessons for Arya because he knew just how desperate she was to learn something different, something unacceptable for Winterfell's daughter and that he did so at the great risk of displeasing a father he looked up to and the Lady Catelyn Stark who already wanted him gone.

He truly is Lyanna's son in every way that mattered.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Good post about elon musk's twitter acquisition, but why did you spell it gaol instead of jail? I assume jail was what you were referring to.

...

Okay listen. You're not a bad person. I recognise that you are fundamentally well-intentioned, and you most likely did not intend offence with this question, just as I suspect all the other Americans who have seen fit to ask this probably didn't intend offence.

But you must see how incredibly rude this is? You must do. You cannot actually think it's socially acceptable to ask a stranger why they are using their own dialect instead of yours. You must realise how rude it would be for me to send you an ask saying "Good post, but why did you spell it neighbor? I assume neighbour is what you meant."

Here's the thing: I first started reading books in American English when I was nine years old. I loved Point Horror books, and Goosebumps, and the Saddle Club. And as I read those books, in a dialect not my own, with foreign spelling and unfamiliar words I hadn't encountered before, you know what I did?

I dealt with it. I just... coped. I recognised it was a different dialect. And then I spent a while confused as to what a pacifier was because Google didn't exist yet but through context I figured it was a small toy Americans give babies, and then eventually my Dad told me it was a dummy and I went OHHHHH...yeah that makes more sense.

But the point is, I just worked this out. I worked out what a sidewalk was, and galoshes, and teeth-floating in horses, and that 'pants' means something different, and that 'fanny' means something VERY different. I didn't get so confused at words having Z's instead of S's that I felt the need to write to the author and ask them why they did it; because I understood that I was reading a different language from someone in a different country.

I did my time at this particular coalface, is what I'm saying.

I recognise that Americans don't. Harry Potter was an international giant, but it had to be translated into American English so poor little American children wouldn't get confused; ditto His Dark Materials, and I will never understand why the translator for both of those franchises changed the titles of the first books (apparently Americans can't be trusted to understand what a philosopher is, or the Northern Lights.) But even so.

I encourage you, and all other Americans who are feeling the need to weigh in on this, to take some time to ask yourselves why, on seeing an unfamiliar dialectic word, you couldn't just work it out for yourself, but HAD to comment on it and even ask for a justification.

[cryptidghostgirl]

I had this though on a cute little one shot for Alastor x chubby reader in the hotel I was wondering if you would like to run with it? Where the reader gets some nail varnish that matches their lip color without thinking about it. Alastor becomes rather fond of them wearing the color and eventually it vanishes after Angel points out that it’s almost the exact same color as the reader’s lips.

The reader ends up pouting a bit over it because they can’t find it anywhere in stores anymore. They ask Angel if they borrowed it to Angel’s confusioned response to the tune of “why the fuck would I want to wear your lip color?” And it gets to the point they ask for Nifty’s help finding it while Alastor is trying to avoid the topic entirely. Eventually Nifty DOES find it in the radio tower much to Alastor’s flustered frustration.

A/N oh hell yes i can do this. 11/10. Also I am skipping the fuck around in my request order, I am so nervous about posting cover up pt 4. I promise it will come out soon.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Gn!Chubby!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Uhhh I got a little suggestive with this one guys. Sorry. Also,, Alastor is a little creepy and stalkery and has a thing about hands. This one just came out all around weird. Also, I named it after my favorite lip and nail polish matching combo so don't judge the fic by its name. Also Alastor sexualizes the reader a bit. Let me know if I missed anything. (guys i really have no idea what happened with this one, i am so sorry. I hope you still like it.) Also,, Alastor is for sure ooc.

Word Count: 3,675

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List 

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

"Is that a new color?"

Alastor's ears perked up. He didn't turn to face the source of the sound but he listened. There was only one person in the hotel Angel would direct such a question towards after all.

"Yeah. It's essie, Berry Naughty is the name I think? Nail polish and makeup products always get called the silliest things. Do you like it?"

Y/n was the Hazbin Hotel's newest resident. They had arrived just a few weeks before, brought into the fold by Angel himself. The pair were old friends apparently, knew each other from back when they were alive.

"Yeah, it suits you. A lot more than that blue you used to wear."

There were three things the pair could be discussing in Alastor's mind. The first was Y/n's clothing. They were always dressed to the nines, decked out in some crazy ensemble or another.

At first, it had seemed foolish to Alastor. Anyone who cared that much about what they looked like had no shot at being an enjoyable person in his mind. That was before he had started to get to know the demon, seen the joy it brought them to indulge in fashion, realized the things they wore were for them and them alone. Everything had changed with that. It wasn't about persuasion, getting attention, facade. It was just who they were.

The thing about this first theory, however, was that Y/n almost never wore blue.

"Hey!" Y/n laughed, sounding a tad offended, "I liked the blue and I still might go back to it."

The second option was lipstick. Another little hobby the demon indulged in that had caused Alastor to misjudge their character upon their arrival was the makeup. Every few days, they would come down from their room in one crazy look or another. It was always something dramatic, coordinated perfectly to whatever else they had going on. If Y/n loved anything, they loved a theme.

Alastor had again made the mistake of assuming Y/n's enjoyment of such a thing was a representation of their vapidness when he had first met them. He would not be making that mistake again. The thing was, for all their wild self expression and experimental use of colors, he had never once see them sporting blue lipstick, he couldn't even picture it.

"What! I'm just sayin." Angel teased.

The third and final option, the one Alastor decided was what they must be discussing, was their nail polish. Y/n loved the act of painting nails, called it a ritual of self adoration. The way they talked about it, someone would think they were dedicating sacrifices at an alter to the gods. Every week, like clockwork, they would repaint them. Monday afternoons, four o'clock sharp. Their favorite color of late had indeed been a dark, almost black, blue. Alastor had liked it. The color had made something about their hands shine.

"Rude." Y/n scoffed in reply.

Alastor had always loved Y/n's hands. He had always had a thing about hands. In his opinion, hands were the most telling part of a person, or demon even. They showed nerves, experience, hard work -- went straight through to the core of who a person was. A carpenter's hands were rough, a cook's were scarred, an artists stained with color, a string musician's had calluses on the fingertips. Yes, a lot about a person could be learned from their hands.

Y/n's hands were soft, on the smaller side, and without the bony protrusions of their knuckles so many people seemed to admire now days. Alastor had never understood the desirability of skeletal thinness. It was impractical and uncomfortable. Y/n's hands suited them perfectly, Alastor thought. They were his favorite pair of hands to watch, the way they would flit across the keys of a piano, the way they kneaded the dough when she baked, the way they held a pen.

"I mean, it does match your lipstick now which is kinda a look."

At this, Alastor really did turn around. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n and Angel were lounging on the couches of the hotel lobby. They were dressed down, wearing a pair of jeans that hugged their legs and a crop top that accentuated their body perfectly. They looked soft, they looked comfortable, they looked delicious.

The idea of hunger was a complicated one. When Alastor thought of other demons as delicious looking, it was because he wanted to eat them, to consume their flesh that is. Y/n was certainly delicious but, he had no desire to eat them. Not like that, at any rate.

Angel had been right, Alastor could see it from across the room. The soft ruddy red of their nail varnish matched the gloss coating their lips perfectly. Alastor had always loved the color red.

"Wait, really?" Y/n asked, holding a hand up to their face, by their mouth, their nails turned out towards Angel, "Is it bad?"

"Nah, it's honestly kinda a look."

Y/n hummed, moving their hand from their face and staring intently at their nails.

"Maybe it'll be my new color then... This is the gloss I wear when I'm just doing normal makeup."

"Cohesion is key." Angel noted, "If you have a look to fall back on, people tend to like that in my experience."

Y/n stayed true to their word and Alastor relished in this revelation. Over the course of the next week, nearly every time he spotted them around the hotel, they were wearing that same combination of nail polish and lipstick. It was a secret indulgence of his, a treasure.

They nearly caught him staring one time as they were talking with him. It was nothing special, just one of their average, casual chats about the ethics of one situation or another. For someone who had ended up in Hell, Y/n had a soft spot for moral philosophy. It was clearly spill over from some preoccupation of their mortal self.

Mid conversation, he had drifted off. He hadn't meant to, it was the way they talked. Y/n was an animated conversationalist, always moving their hands to accentuate their words in one way or another. It drew his eyes to their hands and their face equally, their nails and their pretty, dark red lips.

"Hey, Alastor... Alastor!"

"Yes, my dear?" he had quickly replied, snapping out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"You just kinda... trailed off there."

Alastor tried his best to push his embarrassment to the side, to shake it off his shoulders seamlessly. Miraculously, he succeeded. He wasn't quite sure how, when they were watching him with such concern filling their eyes, a slight pout to their lips.

"Just a little distracted. Lots to do today. My apologies, my dear."

"And here I thought you loved deontological thought." Y/n had teased.

Everything was fine. Alastor didn't mind Angel having noticed, it was a well known fact the spider demon saw Y/n as a sibling rather than a potential partner. The pair had grown up together and when Sir Pentious, one night, had asked whether or not they had ever messed around with each other, seeing how close they were and comfortable with physical contact, the pair had made eye contact before each putting on their own display of disgust.

Alastor was good at seeing through people, he knew it hadn't been a show. What was a problem was when Husk somehow noticed the pairing of their lip and nail color as well.

Alastor had been talking to Charlie about one thing or another as Y/n shared a drink with Sir Pentious at the bar. He was half listening to Charlie, half to their conversation. Alastor always kept an ear out for Y/n's saccharine tones.

The pair had been chatting about how their respective journeys to redemption were going when Husk had cut in.

"Did you match your nail color to your lipstick?" he asked in mild amazement.

Alastor bristled. That fact was his, was for him. No one else was allowed to see.

"Yeah!" he heard Y/n brightly reply, a tinge of pride to their voice.

Though Alastor's back was to them, he could picture the way they must be holding their delicate, gentle hands up now.

"Isn't it cute?"

Husk whistled.

"Damn, Angel is finally rubbing off on you."

"I mean, I guess." came Y/n's hesitant reply.

"You trying to catch someone's attention?"

Alastor could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that proceeded their reply.

"I mean, not on purpose. Not with this. I just like the way it looks... I don't know, it makes me feel... pretty."

Y/n was right. Alastor knew for a fact, had seen it with his own eyes, how irresistible the combination made them look. Now others were starting to notice it as well and, well, Alastor couldn't have that, now could he.

The next morning, when Alastor came down for breakfast, he noticed Y/n sitting at the table, looking uncharacteristically despondent. His back to them as he began to prepare his morning cup of coffee, he smiled.

"What's got you down, my dear?" he asked and Y/n sighed.

"My nail polish disappeared."

So, they had already noticed. Alastor picked the carton of milk up off the counter.

"Don't you have others? You're always a veritable rainbow of color!"

Alastor kept his voice light and cheery. His coffee made, he took a seat at the table across from them.

"Yeah, I guess. I just liked that one. It matched my favorite lipstick."

"Couldn't you try another color? That midnight blue last week was rather nice."

"Yeah, I guess." suddenly, their eyes shot up to his, a smile breaking out across their face, "Wait, Al! You're a genius! I'll just go buy another bottle!"

When Y/n returned from the store a few hours later, their gray cloud had returned.

"Are you alright?" Vaggie asked as they slumped onto the couch beside her.

Alastor couldn't help but note, from his hiding place, the way the act of sitting changed their body. They were beautiful standing, stunning even, but something about the way their thighs spread out over the surface of the couch...

"Yeah." Y/n grumbled, "Just... bummed."

"Oh no!" Charlie exclaimed, walking away from the bulletin board she was planning their next lesson on and joining the pair, "What happened?"

"It's stupid." Y/n groaned, throwing their head back.

"Wrong guy hit on you?" Angel teased and they immediately righted themselves, shooting him a glare.

"No." they pointedly replied, "Just... that nail polish? Berry Naughty or whatever its called? The one that matched my Spicy Sienna gloss?"

"Damn, you're pulling out the color names." Angel laughed, "Yeah, I know. What about it?"

"I can't find my bottle anywhere and I went to like seven different stores today and none of them had it! Not one! You didn't borrow it, did'ya Ant?"

Angel put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Who, me?"

Y/n rolled their eyes.

"Nah." he waved them off, "You know I always ask before I borrow. I learned that lesson about you the hard way."

Y/n sighed despondently again.

"I'm sorry." Charlie hummed, patting Y/n's knee comfortingly, "I know it was making you really happy."

"It's silly." they shook their head, "It's just nail polish."

"Yeah but, it clearly brought you a lot of joy." Charlie insisted, "What if I ask Nifty to keep an eye out for it around the hotel?"

Alastor almost let the shadows hiding him from the group in the corner of the room dissolve in shock. He hadn't expected that. He had really thought everyone would just let it go. Yes, he knew Y/n would probably be upset about it for a few days but, that just gave him all the more of an excuse to be near them, to comfort them.

"Really Charlie?" Y/n brightened immediately, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! I mean, I'm not making any promises but, you know."

Y/n pulled themselves from the couch, throwing their arms around Charlie's neck.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's just a nail polish." Vaggie chuckled, watching the interaction warmly.

Y/n let go of Charlie, who shrugged back at her girlfriend.

"It makes them happy."

Two weeks had gone by with no sign of the bottle of nail polish. Y/n still went to the stores every few days, checking for the color, but had yet to have any luck. Nifty too had come up empty handed.

Alastor was very pleased with himself. The trick of using his shadows to empty every store in the surrounding area of the color before Y/n went shopping was something he was particularly proud of.

Of course, all along, he knew where the missing item was. It was in the top drawer of his night table on the right hand side of his bed. Nifty only went in to clean his room maybe once a month or so and she knew better than to snoop. It was all going off without a hitch, even the comforting aspect. Alastor had had the absolute pleasure and honor of showing up at just the right place, at just the right time (imagine that), so as to be included with Angel when Y/n had the bright idea to see if she could find any other matching colors between her vast collection of lipsticks and lipglosses and even larger collection of nail polish. He wasn't sure how their hands could sustain that much acetone, or their skin that much makeup remover, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Alastor was in his studio, fixing one of the control panels, his mind filled with spinning memories of the past couple days (Y/n had even hugged him! The feeling of the cushion of their waist against his arms, their stomach, was not one he would soon forget), when he heard a knock at the door. He straightened up, eyeing it suspiciously.

The guests of the Hazbin Hotel, as well as its staff, knew better than to disturb him while he was at work. It's owners, on the other hand, were much more foolhardy. He ran a hand over his hair, straightening it a bit so as to make himself presentable, and called for the knocker to enter.

The door creaked as it swung open, just like Alastor wanted it to. A creaky door was a good thing, it made sure most people couldn't sneak up on him when he was at his most vulnerable, most distracted.

"You'll want to grease that." Y/n hummed as they stepped into the dingy space, "I think we have some WD40 in the basement, if you want me to bring it up for you."

They had never come to visit him up here before, never dared even come near the rotting wooden door. Alastor walked forward, shutting the door behind Y/n now that they were fully in the room. He was close enough to feel their breath on his skin as he smiled down at them.

"No need, my dear, although, I do appreciate the offer."

A silence fell between the pair as Y/n took a few steps further into the room, their eyes running across every surface available before them. Alastor noticed their hands were clasped behind their back. It wasn't an unusual position for them but, something seemed different about it this time.

"What can I help you with?" he cordially asked and Y/n turned to face him.

"Well... I... um..." they locked eyes with Alastor, finding their words at last, "Nifty found something today. While she was cleaning."

Alastor was glad Y/n's demon form was not all that powerful in this moment. If it was, they would have heard his heartbeat spike. His voice, his demeanor, even his expression were easy to control but his heart? Not so much.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I..." Y/n trailed off.

With a sigh, they brought their hands forward, opening them to reveal the source of Alastor's anxiety. Nestled there, in the softness of their palm, was the nail polish.

"She found it! Congratulations, my dear. You must be thrilled."

"Yeah." Y/n replied uncertainly, looking away.

Alastor knew why they were so uncomfortable, but his hope was stronger. There was an uncanny sense of optimism in him, one that was unfounded and unfamiliar. It drove him to pry, to see how much they really knew. For all Alastor knew, there could be something else entirely going on.

"Where was it?"

"I..." Y/n looked back at him once again, "That's the problem, Alastor. Nifty said... well, she said she found it in your room."

"In my room?" Alastor repeated, feigning confusion, a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Y/n nodded.

"In your night table drawer."

They must have known him better than he thought, have seen the flash of sudden anger in his eyes or something like that, maybe he had tense his body. Whatever had ticked them off, they continued.

"She didn't open it. Nift said it was open and went to close it and just... spotted it in there so don't get mad at her, she didn't do anything wrong."

Alastor stood in silence, watching Y/n carefully.

"I just... Look, I'm not mad, I am just confused. Why was it in your room, did you take it from me?"

A shock of nerves fluttered in Alastor's stomach. The heat rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, a hand flying instinctually to his collar and tugging at it just the slightest bit, as if the room was too hot. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

"Why?"

Alastor turned back to Y/n and nearly stumbled back a few steps when he realized how much closer they had brought themselves to him. Nearly every other time, he was the one to bridge the distance, to step into their personal space. His breath caught in his throat, a sort of thrill flooding his mind.

"I... I..."

He had stuttered. Alastor didn't stutter. He had never stuttered, not even when he was alive.

"You..?" Y/n prompted, leaning forward slightly.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't tell if that was their goal, secretly, if they had finally realized the effect they had on him and begun to use it to their advantage. Alastor looked away again.

"It was..."

"You knew it was my favorite. Why did you take it?"

Fuck.

They were upset, maybe even angry. Alastor had seen them mad before but it had never been directed towards him. Normally, he would relish in the wrath of another but Y/n's wrath? Fuck. He realized right then and there, he would rather die.

"Husk." he admitted at last, his hands now fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, his face flushed.

Alastor dared a glance at Y/n. Their brow was furrowed.

"Husk?"

"Yeah. Husk."

"I... why Husk? Did he dare you? Did he... I... what?"

Whatever feelings they had previously held had been replaced by pure confusion. Alastor could handle confusion. The situation at large was still unwelcome and rather untenable but, at least there was the confusion.

"He..." Alastor cleared his throat, brave enough to meet their eyes again at last, "He noticed."

"Noticed.... oh."

"Yeah."

They fell silent. This wasn't a thing Alastor had felt since he was very young. There was a wild animal in his chest. In this moment, he didn't just look like a deer, he was one and Y/n was the hunter with their gun trained on the spot between his eyes.

"It wa-"

"Did you also take it off the shelves all over the neighborhood?"

They had always been smart, smarter than he gave them credit for. Alastor grimaced, nodding slowly.

"Alastor, why did it bother you so much? Is it illegal to match my nails to my lips? Does it go against your... your weird ass deontological code?"

"No, it's just... it was... fuck!"

Y/n had never heard him curse before. A hand flew to Alastor's head, he took a deep breath.

"Alastor, I-"

"It was for me, okay? I... I didn't want anyone else noticing. It was just for me."

Y/n looked somehow even more confused as he lowered his hand once again. The releif that had accompanied the admission was greatly outweighed by his anxiety as he waited for their response.

"But Angel noticed too? Before Husk?"

"That's different." Alastor sighed, "He... You... I..."

"Alastor, what's going on?"

There was concern now, lacing their voice in its gentle vines. It almost made everything worse.

"I like you, okay!? There. Are you happy now!?"

He didn't know why he was yelling. Y/n's eyes went wide.

"You... like me? Like, like like me?"

He glared at them and they put their hands up in surrender.

"Just trying to clarify the situation!"

Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Yes. I... like like you or... whatever nonsense you just said. Are you happy now?"

It was a stand off, each training a metaphorical pistol at the other. Y/n was the one to finally break.

"Yes." they curtly replied, crossing their arms to mirror his position, "I'll... I'll let you get back to work now."

Someone had driven a nail right through Alastor's chest and into his heart. He watched their retreating form as they opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Just as it was about to fall shut, they miraculously stuck a foot between the closing door and its frame, peeking their head back into the room.

"Just so you know: if you asked me out on a date," they began, their eyes flicking up to his from where they had previously been fixed on the floor, "I'd say yes."

-----

A/N Ant is a pretty common nickname for Anthony in NYC (where I am from and where I'm pretty sure Angel is supposed to be from). Yes, I will be using it in another fic I am working on too (its part two of Unexpected (Vox x Reader). Also,, deontology is when you have a strict set of ethical rules/maxims you stick by no matter what (Kant is a deontologist).

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

[moonselune]

Hello there, hope you're having a good day!

Can I please get an Astarion x fem reader story where the reader gets injured when out of camp. Astarion finds them, and brings them back to camp to treat their wounds. Thank you in advance!

Something about writing an injured Tav just 😙👌

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x f!reader | Injured

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the forest floor as you stumbled through the underbrush. Your side throbbed where the bandit's blade had caught you, the wound deeper than you initially realized. You cursed under your breath, clutching the makeshift bandage you had wrapped around yourself. Each step sent a jolt of pain through your body, and you knew you needed help soon.

You had strayed too far from camp, chasing after a lead on some supplies the group desperately needed. Now, you regretted your decision as you struggled to make your way back, your vision blurring with every passing moment.

As you broke through the last of the trees, the sight of the campfire flickering in the distance was a welcome relief. You could see Astarion standing near the edge of the camp, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. The moment he spotted you, his expression shifted from casual boredom to intense worry.

"Where in the Nine Hells have you been?" Astarion exclaimed, rushing to your side as you collapsed onto your knees. His eyes widened as he saw the blood soaking through your bandage. "What happened?"

"Good evening to you too, my darling" You tried to muster a reassuring smile but winced instead. "Got into a bit of trouble… nothing I couldn't handle."

"Nothing you couldn't handle? You look like you've been through a meat grinder!" he snapped, his hands already working to support you as he guided you back to the campfire. "Honestly, do you have any sense of self-preservation?"

You groaned as he helped you to a bedroll, the pain intensifying with each movement. "I didn't expect to run into bandits," you muttered, feeling a bit defensive.

Astarion knelt beside you, his movements surprisingly gentle as he inspected your wound. "Of course not, because that would involve some forethought and caution," he retorted, his voice laced with frustration. "You could have been killed!"

You couldn't help but smile at his concern, despite the pain. "Astarion, your softer side is showing, people might start believing you love me more than yourself"

He shot you a withering look, not in the mood for your teasing. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm merely annoyed that you seem determined to get yourself killed before I can even enjoy a proper meal tonight. I mean look at all this blood- wasted!"

You chuckled, then winced as the movement jostled your wound. Astarion scowled, but you could see the worry etched in his features. "Hold still," he ordered, carefully unwrapping your makeshift bandage. "I need to clean this properly."

You hissed as the cool night air hit your exposed wound, but you forced yourself to remain still. Astarion's hands were surprisingly steady as he cleaned the cut, his touch gentle despite his earlier harsh words. Astarion was absolutely the last person you expected to be such a good healer, you had literally seen him step over a speared Gale, with a pathetic excuse of not knowing how to open the healing potion bottle.

"You know," you said, trying to distract yourself from the pain, "for someone who claims not to care about the process of mortal healing, you're awfully good at this."

He paused, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of exasperation and something softer. "It's a skill born out of necessity," he replied quietly. "When you've lived as long as I have, you learn a few things about tending to wounds."

You watched him work, noting the way his brow furrowed in concentration. "Thank you, Astarion," you said sincerely. "I appreciate it."

He huffed, but you could see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Just try not to make a habit of this, will you my love?"

As he finished bandaging your wound, you couldn't hide your smile, you had earned back your endearment privileges again. You reached out to touch his hand. "I'll try to be more careful next time."

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression softening. "I'll hold you to that," he said, his tone begrudgingly affectionate. "But for now, just let me take care of you without any fuss and no more wasting blood, understood?"

You nodded, smiling up at him. "Understood."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I realised writing this Sasstarion came out more than lover Astarion - whoops, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :))) - Seluney x